Biarritz Passion: A French Summer Novel (13 page)

Caroline snatched a glance at Yvette and Birdie. They were still deep in conversation and hadn’t noticed her agitation. She was on tenterhooks while Yvette paid the bill and they gathered their things ready to leave. A
n inexplicable sense of anxiety gnawed at her as she ushered Yvette and Birdie out of the restaurant, hoping neither would turn round and spot her sister and Edward.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a whirl of shopping. Caroline was carried away by the excitement and the novelty of the occasion, but the scene at the Savoy kept intruding, the image of her sister gazing up at Edward, and the
strange expression on his face. She couldn’t put her finger on what exactly was bothering her.After all, she kept reminding herself, they were friends, why shouldn’t they have lunch together? Julian was probably tied up somewhere; maybe they were meeting him later. But the look on Annabel’s face nagged at her. And as for Edward, she could only come up with the word ‘serious’ to describe his expression, his whole manner even. But serious how, exactly? Fortunately she was distracted by the chatter of the other two women asking her opinion about this and that and urging her to try what seemed like hundreds of outfits. They had started with the big department stores.

‘For casual clothes,’ said Yvette, ‘it’s not worth paying designer prices. Ah, here’s their sel
ection of beachwear. Let’s see, this, and this one, perhaps this, no the colour’s not you at all...’

She swept along the racks of clothing, a woman on a mission, piling articles into the arms of Caroline and Birdie, rejecting others with a shake of the head or a f
rown. An hour later it was done, changing rooms, inspection by Yvette and Birdie, and finally exit from the store clutching a selection of bags.

‘I still think those jeans are a bit tight,’ said Caroline.

‘Nonsense my dear!’ The exclamation came in chorus.

‘Now, Marie-Claire’s favourite boutique.
For something a little special. Mind you the things you’ve bought look ravishing. That pretty little sundress in blue gingham! So retro! And the tops. The white halter neck will be perfect with a tan. But it’s nice to have something a little more chic, just in case you get invited, well, who knows where?’

She gave a little wink at Caroline and dived into a small shop set back from the pavement. Inside comfortable chairs sat on a thick grey carpet. Caroline and Birdie sank down
gratefully.

A tall red
head in a cool linen dress came through a door at the back.

‘Madame Delorme!
How nice to see you!’

‘Belinda my dear. How are you? You’ve changed your hair. That colour suits you to perfection!’

Yvette made the introductions and explained what they were looking for.

‘Not t
oo too dressy. Something with a little chic.’

Belinda nodded, her eyes on Caroline.

‘We have a couple of things just arrived from our Italian supplier. I think they may be exactly what you have in mind.’

She led Caroline towards the back of the shop.

‘Ah, bliss,’ said Yvette, sinking into the chair Caroline had vacated, thrusting off her shoes and wiggling her toes. ‘Now Birdie what do you really think?’

Birdie thought that Caroline looked just lovely, and that Yvette had done a marvellous job and that Margaret would be thrilled to bits. Yvette smiled and admitted with some satisfaction that she had ‘the eye’. A good hairdo, well-chosen clothes. These could help to transform anyone. But Caroline’s natural assets, her face and figure, made the job so much easier. Yvette marvelled at how plain
the girl had managed to appear, quite a work of art in itself. Only a close observer, someone with ‘the eye’ would have seen past the air of mingled severity and reticence, would have noticed the beautiful dark eyes under their sweep of lashes, the delicate bone structure, the sensuous curve of the pale lips. Now with a little touch of make-up...

‘What do you think?’

Framed in the doorway, Caroline wore a pale aquamarine dress. The deceptive simplicity of the cut did not deceive Yvette’s trained eye. A slight gathering under the bust accentuated the natural curves; below, the fluid lines of the material clung to her figure in just the right places, without the slightest hint of vulgarity, flaring out into a skater skirt.

‘It’s lovely isn’t it?’

Belinda exchanged a satisfied smile with Yvette.

‘Perfect. Now all she needs are the right shoes.’

Wedge heels with delicate straps, thought Yvette. They would find them later on.

‘Let me see the other?’

Caroline tried on a couple more things, before Belinda brought out a sheath dress in dark navy lace over a peach silk underslip.

‘
What about this? It’s by a young designer, he trained in the Alexander McQueen
atelier
. I think it’s right for Caroline. Elegant, sophisticated but... a woman.’

Yv
ette nodded, her eyes gleaming.

Even in her bare feet, Caroline looked stunning, thought Yvette, watching her step out of the changing room and walk towards them.

‘Oh my dear!’ Birdie began to dab at her eyes. ‘If only your mother...’

Yvette and Belinda exchanged nods of satisfaction.

They finished up in the shoe shops, where between them they tried on two dozen pairs of shoes and ended up with more boxes than they could carry. Birdie had been persuaded into buying some low-heeled sandals which as she said would be perfect for Vicarage tea parties.

‘A lot of standing about, but one must make an effort.’

‘Quite right Birdie,’ said Yvette. ‘Now, quick, here’s an empty taxi, we’ve just got time to get you to the station for your train, then Caroline and I will whisk off home to prepare for our evening on the town.’

They dropped an excited Birdie at the station, clutching her bags, while Yvette insisted that she come up to town more often, that a day’s shopping was an excellent remedy for all ills.

‘Thank you so much,’ said Caroline, giving Birdie a big hug. ‘Tell Auntie Mags I’ll be down to see you both before I leave for Biarritz.’

‘I wouldn’t have missed it for the world,’ called Birdie over her shoulder, hurrying off into the crowd.

Caroline climbed back inside the taxi.

‘My dear what a wonderful day,’ said Yvette, linking arms. ‘Now as soon as we get back, a nice bath. You’ll feel much better after a hot soak. I do hope this person that Jacques has invited is entertaining
. Some of his business associates are such hard work.’

‘Mmmm,’ said Caroline, her eyes closing as the taxi bore them off towards Belgravia.

Yvette was right, thought Caroline as she lay in the steaming water. She flexed her toes, feeling the tiredness ooze out of her bones. What an amazing day. She closed her eyes and smiled. During that period of, what was it, seven hours or so, it was as though she had turned into a different person.

It was not
just the new clothes and hair do, it was something more fundamental. As though a page had been turned and a new chapter begun. She felt a revival of self-confidence, an interest in life, that she hadn’t felt in ages. In recent months she had put off visiting big cities with their crowds of unfamiliar people, the bewildering level of noise, the rush. On her rare visits to London she had gone straight to the National Gallery, or headed for a quiet walk by the water’s edge in St James Park. Now it was as if she had been injected with some of Yvette’s vitality, her enthusiastic interest in the minutiae of life. She felt capable of striding into a classy hotel, throwing down her shopping bags, sliding onto a bar stool and ordering a cocktail. All on her own. Suddenly life was full of exhilarating possibilities.
Merci
Yvette.

Except
for one niggle. Edward Rayburn sitting at a table and gazing at her sister. She tried to push the memory to the back of her mind, telling herself it was none of her business. Maybe Julian was in Frankfurt. And if Edward happened to be in London, why shouldn’t he take his best friend’s fiancée out to lunch? She would not give it another thought. Time to get going. Stepping out of the bath she rubbed herself briskly with the fluffy towel, warm from the radiator, then reached to examine the bottle of lotions and scents that filled the shelves of Yvette’s guest bathroom. She unscrewed one or two tops, sniffing appreciatively. One in particular she liked. She splashed the cool liquid along her arms and neck, revelling in its sweet crisp scent, like white lilac. She finished off with clouds of scented talcum powder, using a ridiculously thirties-style swansdown puff in a crystal bowl that covered the bathroom in a mist of fine particles and got up her nose. Fabulous. She padded through to the green and white guest room to dress. The final one she’d bought, Yvette had insisted, with a nudge.

‘Jacques will be so distracted when he sees you he won’t notice I’m wearing something new!’

At the foot of the stairs Caroline paused, took a deep breath, threw back her shoulders.
All that money I spent on ballet lessons.
She smiled and pushed the half-open door of the drawing room.

‘Come in,
chérie,
come in! Oh, my word you look lovely!’

Yvette turned to her husband.

‘Doesn’t she Jacques?’

‘A goddess!’ said Jacques, taking Caroline’s hand in both of his and raising it to his lips with a smile.

‘And this is Jacques’ friend, Edward.’

Caroline, turning to meet the Delorme’s guest,
stopped in astonishment.

‘It must be Fate
.’

The voice was teasing, the blue eyes gleamed with a mixture of irony and frank admiration. Edward Rayburn placed one hand dramatically on his heart and rolled his eyes.

‘Twice in as many weeks! Allow me to say Miss MacDonald you look absolutely stunning.’

He leaned forward and gave her a kiss on both cheeks, French style.

Caroline, who had blushed to the roots of her hair, felt her knees
turn to water. Yvette and Jacques were observing the scene in surprise. Edward, turning towards his hosts, began to explain.

‘Caroline and I already know each other. We met at her Aunt’s. My parents live practically next door.’

‘What an extraordinary coincidence! Jacques, isn’t that too amazing?’

Yvette couldn’t hide her delight at this strange twist of destiny, the cherry on the cake in terms of her day’s organisation.

‘Indeed,’ chimed in Jacques. ‘I was convinced that Edward, in spite of his name, was well and truly French! In fact we haven’t exchanged a word in English all afternoon. I feel as though I am meeting a new person.’

‘It’s not the first time I’ve been called a sp
lit personality,’ said Edward, with a laugh. ‘But I have to admit I feel more at home in France than in the UK now, after all these years.’

‘Edward
was telling me he works in Toulouse, Caroline,’ said Yvette ‘but maybe you know that already? ‘

Caroline made an effort to pull herself together.

‘Yes, yes, he told us all when we met at Willowdale. Annabel was there, with Julian. ’

She risked a look at Edward
. A mistake. Her heart rate accelerated.

‘Ah yes, your little sister, it’s so strange to think she is old enough to have a fiancé. Julian, did you say his name was?’

‘That’s right, in fact he’s...’ Caroline hesitated.

Edward opened his mouth to say something but Yvette gave a little shriek.

‘Jacques! We are forgetting our manners! Our guests have nothing to drink! Caroline, what would you like? A glass of champagne?’

‘That would be lovely.’

Caroline perched herself on the edge of a yellow silk sofa, trying to pull down the skirt of her new dress and gather her thoughts at the same time. Things were not helped by the fact that Edward was staring at her legs with a bemused expression. She wished that Yvette would hurry up with the drinks.

‘Are you just over for the weekend, Edward?’

‘A long weekend. I have a couple of work meetings. I did manage to fit in a quick visit to Ravensfield, see how my mother was doing.’

Caroline looked at him suspiciously. Had he been to see her aunt, by any chance?

‘So,’ his gaze slid up from her legs to her breasts. She had known the peach underslip was too low-cut. The see-through lace was a tease. ‘You’re the culprit Caroline, shopping all day with Yvette, I hear there’s nothing left in Oxford Street.’

‘Oh that’s true,’ said Yvette. ‘She really needs that drink.’
She handed a glass to Caroline. ‘And so do I. I just hope we don’t both fall asleep over dinner tonight.’

Jacques raised his glass in a toast.

‘To the goddess of shopping,’ he said, ‘but forgive me, ladies, most of all I would like to raise a toast to our new baby. Edward, may she be a great success!’

Both women paused in mid-sip.
Edward put down his glass and leaned forward. His eyes lit up.

‘Our latest plane. Jacques has agreed to come over to
Airbus in Toulouse to christen it. I was just arranging the final details with him.’

‘Oh that’s wonderful!’ exclaimed Yvette. ‘I shall no doubt be accompanying him,
n’est-ce
pas chéri
?’ She gave her husband a sparkling smile. ‘I hear there are some marvellous boutiques in Toulouse. And you know Jacques, we could take a few days’ holiday, explore the region. How exciting! Do you know that part of France my dear?’

‘I’m afraid not,’ said Caroline. ‘I’ve been to Paris a couple of times, but nothing further south.’

‘Never mind,’ said Yvette ‘in a couple of weeks you’ll be in Biarritz. With your new wardrobe. Did you know Caroline was going to France this summer Edward? ’

How had things become so entangled? Caroline
laughed nervously and threw a ‘help me!’ look in Edward’s direction.

He stepped in as smoothly as Fred Astaire.

‘I did. She’s going with me, actually. No, I’m just teasing. Caroline and her sister are coming to stay at my family’s house in Biarritz.’

‘
Mais c’est extraordinaire
!’ Yvette was thrilled. ‘This really is the most incredible coincidence! Or indeed, Fate, as you say, Edward! Oh I shall have to tell Marie-Claire about this. She will never believe me. She is always accusing me of, how do you say it, setting people up? But this time I am totally innocent. So, Caroline, all the day we have been shopping, it was to impress this handsome young man here in my drawing room!’

‘Oh no!’

Her response was so vehement they all burst out laughing.

‘I mean
, well, I don’t know what I mean really. Sorry.’

She
looked up at Edward and was irritated to see that he seemed to be finding the whole situation hilarious.

‘Yvette, consider the mission accomplished.
I am impressed. I’m only worried about my rivals. Those Basque males are a passionate bunch.’

‘True,’ said Jacques drily. ‘You know of the Basque movement for Independence, Caroline?’

‘Oh Jacques
chéri
we are not going to talk politics.’ Yvette laid her hand on Caroline’s arm. ‘Don’t pay any attention to them, my dear. Tell me more about this holiday. How on earth did it all come about?’

Edward and Caroline looked at each other. Edward
shrugged a twinkle in his eye.

‘
Annabel’s fiancé is a friend of mine.’

There were more exclamations of surprise from the Delormes and murmurs of ‘a small world’ and ‘six degrees of separation’
as Edward continued to fill them in on the relevant details.

‘Have you seen him this weekend? Julian I mean?’

The question came out more challenging than Caroline had intended.

‘Afraid not, he’s
away for a few days actually.’

Was his
answer a little too glib?

‘And my
—’

Edward interrupted her before she could finish.

‘He’s in Frankfurt, on business. I don’t know if he’s mentioned anything to you, Caroline? About this new contract and everything?’

She tried to read Edward’s expression. He was looking at her intently.

‘He did say something. When we were at Willowdale.’

‘Yes. It’s a terrific opportunity for his firm. One he really can’t afford to pass up, in spite of one or two...complications.’

‘Yes, I gathered that.’

The two of them stared at each other.

Yvette gave a little cough. Caroline realised she had picked up on the terse exchange.

‘Oh I’m so sorry Yvette, we got side-tracked, nothing important.’

With the smoothness born of years of practice, Yvette assured them it was ‘of no matter’, then gave a little exclamation as she glanced at her watch.

‘Good heavens is that the time? Saturday is always busy. We’d better get going.’

Rollins was waiting at the kerb. Jacques ushered his guests into the back and took a place
in front. Caroline, seated between Edward and Yvette, leaned back against the cushions. She felt light-headed, her thoughts whirling. She was aware of Edward’s leg pressing against hers and wished she had worn something less revealing. Her new dress was definitely for standing-only occasions. She gave it a little tug and saw Edward smile out of the corner of her eye.

As they got out of the car in
Soho she lifted her face gratefully to the evening air. There was a festive atmosphere in the city, probably due to the warm weather. Couples strolled arm in arm along the pavements, groups of young people spilled into the middle of the road chatting and laughing, oblivious to the hoots of exasperated taxi drivers.

Following Yvette into the restaurant, Caroline felt a surge of interest. As a teenager she had developed a passion for cooking, never missing a programme on television, trying out her experiments on Margaret, Birdie and Annabel.

They were in a large square room with old-fashioned net curtains at the windows and a wooden floor that creaked as the waiters hurried past. There was a zinc topped bar, with bottles standing on glass shelves behind it. The tables were covered in red cloths, each with its own lamp, casting a pool of light on the red. It was a far cry from the sleek ultra-minimalist chic of the fashionable restaurants you saw nowadays on TV or in magazines. More like an old Parisian
bistrot
from the 1950s. Caroline thought it was charming.

Edward was standing just behind her
. She felt his warm breath on her neck as he bent to whisper in her ear and her arms broke out in goose bumps.

‘
Looks just like the corner café near my flat in Toulouse. They do a mean sausage and chips.’

She
gave a nervous laugh, which she turned into a cough.

‘Everything alright, my dear?’

Yvette was looking at the pair of them with interest.

A lady of a certain age, dignified in a black dress with a gold brooch pinned to
her bosom, was standing on a raised platform behind a high wooden cash desk. When she saw the Delormes she emerged from behind the battlements to greet them, delivering torrents of high-speed French in an unintelligible accent while embracing them both several times.

The restaurant was almost full, but the murmur of voices was low and discreet. The diners were applying themselves to their food with evident seriousness, not letting banal conversation get in the way of gastronomic appreciation. The
patronne
led them to a corner table. Jacques pulled out a chair for Caroline, and sat down next to her while Edward seated Yvette. There was a rapid discussion between the Delormes and the
patronne,
involving the evening specials. Edward joined in with a couple of questions, nodding in appreciation each time
Madame
brought her fingers to her lips and kissed them.