A Hidden Life (50 page)

She'd nodded. Of course she wanted it, but everything was so sudden, so quick, so overwhelming that she felt that one of them had to keep their feet on the ground.

‘What if it doesn't work out?' she said.

Jake had stopped in the middle of the pavement, and stared at her. ‘No question in my mind. Tell me if there is in yours and I'll take all this stuff back to the shop.' He'd been grinning as he spoke, so what could she say? They'd gone back to his house and spent a couple of hours putting up the cot and hanging the butterfly mobile and unpacking all the soft, fluffy, white and pink-checked bed linen – cot linen – and then he'd taken her into his bedroom for the very first time and undressed her and they'd made love till it was time to go and fetch Poppy. When she got up from his bed she was weak and trembling with satisfied desire and just wanted to stay there in that bed for the rest of her days, with Jake kissing her and touching her and taking her to such extreme edges of feeling that she found herself crying out and clinging to his hair, to his back, wanting to fold every bit of him into herself. It was completely exhausting and yet she was always ready for more … He had a habit of waiting till she was out of bed, on the way to the bathroom, on her way to getting dressed and then he'd come after her and stop her and carry her back to the bed, to the warm sheets they had just left for one more kiss, one more caress. Often Jake took her to the nursery to fetch Poppy in the car but there were times when she had to go on her own, and leaving the house when he was in it became harder and harder. She used to sit on the Underground and throb all over with longing, wondering whether everyone else could guess at what she was remembering.

Even now, when she was supposed to be sad for poor Mme Franchard and opening her last letter, most of her thoughts were with Jake. Okay, concentrate, she told herself. Open the damned thing:

Lou picked up her mobile. She punched in her father's number, feeling a little giddy. First the announcement of Mme Franchard's death and now this. Was it true? Would it happen? She was finding it hard to take in. Dad would know what the legal position was.

‘Dad? Yes, I've found it. I think Mme Franchard has left me a house … Yes, okay. I'll read it to M. Thibaud. Right … Hello, M. Thibaud. Are you ready for Mme Franchard's letter? … Okay.'

The page lay open on the table and Lou read out what was written on it, feeling a bit of a fool, her voice sounding unnaturally loud in the empty room. When she'd finished, she was almost ready for M. Thibaud to say something along the lines of
well, these are the ravings of an old lady and we cant take any notice of them.
To her amazement, he asked only one question:

‘Is the letter signed and witnessed?'

‘Yes … Mme Franchard has signed it and Solange Richoux has witnessed it. And there's a date: twenty-fifth of July 2007.'

‘Excellent. That will make everything easy. There are no competing
claims on her will, so there will be no problem, I think. I will have to find out about the details of this house. I did not know of it. Your great-aunt is – how do you say in English? A black horse?'

‘A dark horse.'

‘
Exactement.
A dark horse. She tells me very little about herself. I think you will have to come to France, when I have discovered what is to be done, to sign the papers and of course you will wish to see the property, is that not so?'

‘Yes, thank you. I don't know what to say. Thank you!'

‘I have to thank you, Mademoiselle. Without this, there is only one bequest. To Mme Richoux, your great-aunt had left all her furniture and effects. There is very little money. Very little savings.'

‘Oh,' Lou said. ‘Right.' What else could she say?

‘You are fortunate that she has not told me of this house. I would have advised her most strongly to sell it, if I had known about it.'

‘Perhaps that is why she didn't tell you?' Lou said.

‘
En effet
,' said M. Thibaud, chuckling at the other end of the line. ‘That is quite true. She was a clever woman, I think.'

As she listened to the Frenchman talking, Lou began to take in what had just happened. She had been left a property in Brittany. I'm a property owner, she told herself. I own a house. Neglected, Mme Franchard said, but I can do it up. A vision of herself and Jake and Poppy in Brittany flashed through her mind, in which they looked like something out of a TV property programme – designing features in blond wood and whitewashing a picturesque cottage. She'd be in denim dungarees but still look beautiful – stop it, she told herself. That's mad. Denim dungarees – where did that come from? She'd been watching too many reruns of
The Good Life.
And I refuse to count my chickens till I've signed all the papers. But I must tell Jake. I wish M. Thibaud would stop talking. I need to talk to Jake. Oh, God, I wish he could be here now …

What am I letting myself in for, Phyl wondered. There was no way she could have refused to come to this lunch. Nessa had made a point of saying she needed everyone in the family to be there. There was something she wanted to share with them, that was the way she put it and all sorts of possibilities had gone through Phyl's mind since she'd received the invitation. There was an actual, physical written invitation: that was unusual. She couldn't recollect anything more formal than a telephone call on other occasions when Nessa wanted them to visit her at home. This must be something important. Could she be pregnant? Who by? There had been no evidence that she had seen another man since her divorce from Gareth.

‘Has Nessa said anything to you?' she asked Matt. He was humming under his breath as they drove.

‘About what?'

‘About this lunch. I'm dreading it.'

‘Why? There's nothing to dread, Phyl, truly.'

‘You're being stupid, Matt. Ellie will be there. I'm going to feel most uncomfortable.'

Matt said nothing for a while and Phyl was working up to shouting at him for not being sensitive to her feelings when he suddenly turned into a lay-by and stopped the car. He turned to her. ‘I couldn't say what I wanted to say while I was driving. There's nothing to be uncomfortable about. Ellie's the one who might feel that, though of course she won't. You have to realize something, darling. She doesn't attach importance to sex. That's the truth of the matter. It's just
— well, like going for a swim, or having a nice meal. Not an activity which has any emotional significance to it.'

‘You don't know that. I think she wanted you for herself. I think she'd have loved it if you'd left me and asked her to marry you again.'

‘Maybe. Or maybe she thinks she would. I know, and I think if she's honest she knows as well, that it would be an even greater disaster than it was last time round.' Matt took her hand. ‘You're my love, Phyl. Okay? Really, truly, for ever. Do you believe that?'

Phyl nodded. He said, ‘Then just remember that. Hang on to it. This lunch is about Nessa in any case and Ellie will have plenty of distraction. Don't worry. And we can leave as soon as you like. Just give me a signal. Okay? Ready?'

‘As I'll ever be.'

‘Well, you look fantastic. So no worries there.'

That was kind of him. Phyl had never been sure of herself where clothes were concerned, but today she reckoned she looked okay. She'd decided to go for a more formal version of what she normally wore because the one thing that she
did
know was that she looked her best in casual clothes. Dark grey tweedy trousers, a very expensive cream silk shirt, a long string of malachite beads to set it all off and a cashmere cardigan which was exactly the same colour as the necklace. Black suede shoes with a patent leather wedge heel. She'd even gone to the hairdresser and looked, she reckoned, as good as she ever would. Bring it on, Ellie, she thought as they went up the drive of Nessa's house. I can take it. She took a deep breath. Even with her new-found confidence, she would be delighted when the lunch was over and they were on their way home again.

Nessa had certainly pushed the boat out. The table was laid with a white tablecloth and the white, pink and dark red roses in the gloriously over-the-top centrepiece were obviously proud to be made of silk and didn't pretend for a moment to be the real thing. The food had been provided by a firm called Simply Natural. Lou knew this because she'd seen the logo on the van delivering the grub earlier that morning. She and Jake had been the first to arrive. Nessa had asked
them to come early, because she wanted what she called ‘ballast' against her own mother and Matt and Phyl.

Tamsin had been put in charge of Poppy and was doing a very good job too. Lou hoped that having someone dance attendance on her every second of the time wouldn't go to her daughter's head. Poppy had only to indicate that she wanted something and Tamsin rushed to provide it. She cuddled her, she talked to her, she read stories to her and now the two of them were in the kitchen. Poppy's meal had been heated in the microwave and Tamsin was tucking into what looked suspiciously like fish fingers and chips. To each his own. There were a couple of members of Simply Natural's staff overseeing the serving of the meal, and they'd promised to keep an eye on the children.

‘Call me if she's any trouble,' Lou had told Tamsin before she sat down at the table, but so far so good. Occasionally, she tuned out of what was being said around her and listened to the sounds coming from the kitchen, but there'd been nothing untoward and so she began to relax. Nothing had been said so far, but Lou knew what this lunch was about. Nessa was going to tell Ellie and Matt and Phyl (and Justin, too, if he didn't know already) about Mickey. She'd clearly thought carefully about the seating. A round table made things a little easier. Mickey was on Nessa's right. Then, going anti-clockwise round the table, Matt, Phyl, Jake, Lou herself, Justin, and Ellie on Nessa's left. Lou felt like blowing a fanfare or something, to herald the announcement that was surely due any minute now.

They'd eaten smoked salmon, a delicious Greek pie made from filo pastry with a filling of cheese and spinach and had just tucked into a chestnut and brandy trifle which was quite the most delicious thing Lou had ever tasted. She wondered fleetingly whether she could get the recipe from someone at Simply Natural but dismissed the thought almost at once. She wasn't a cook and had no real intention of becoming one in the near future.

The talk, all through the meal, had been general. Topics covered included America and the pros and cons of living in Britain rather than in the States. Justin told them about a new scheme of his, which sounded even more dodgy than the last one. He was going to Argentina with Ellie to look into setting up a property business
there. Dad, Lou thought, looked as though the less he heard about this plan, the better he'd like it. Argentina! That was a long way to go to start over again. Mum was very quiet and Lou wondered why that was. Could it really be that she hadn't got over being Dad's second wife, after Ellie? Was it possible that she still felt unconfident after all these years? That would be astonishing, but it was quite true that Ellie did put everyone else to shame when it came to OTT showbiz-type glamour. Even Jake was mesmerized by her, though she could see from his expression that part of the fascination was amusement at her outrageousness. The scarlet silk thing she was wearing would have been more suitable on some yacht on the Riviera … long and flowing and kaftan-like, but embroidered round the neck with so many sequins, bugle-beads and other assorted gems that she gave the impression of having turned into a kind of Christmas-tree decoration. You could do worse than have Ellie on the top of your tree, Lou thought, and smiled. Nessa was as smart as she always was, in a clinging silky dress in shades of rust and beige with long amber earrings. Mickey wore a moss-green velvet jacket over a white satin camisole. Lou felt her own black skinny jeans and cream shirt were only just okay, but Jake had bought her a long Missoni scarf in about thirty shades of red which she reckoned was easily the most beautiful thing in the room. It made her feel as though his love was wrapped round her throat. What a soppy thought, she told herself, and took another sip of wine.

‘Okay, everyone,' Nessa said, tapping her glass with the edge of her knife. ‘I'm sorry to stop the conversation and it won't be for long, but you must all have been wondering at the reason for this lunch. Some of you may have guessed. Others of you know already, but I thought I'd make a formal announcement so that we can all, well, get it out of the way.'

Dad was pale. Ellie was leaning forward and Lou could see the tops of her breasts and wondered how many garments in her wardrobe had buttons up to the neck. Mum looked bemused and you could just see that Justin had an eyebrow ready to raise. Jake was sitting quietly, wearing what Lou thought of as his poker face: the one that gave nothing away.

‘Here it is, then. You are all of you invited to our wedding.
Mickey's and mine. We'll be married in a civil ceremony on the twenty-second of December and then spending our honeymoon in St. Lucia – Christmas in the Caribbean.'