Christmas in Bluebell Cove (3 page)

 

In the middle of the night she could smell the turkey cooking quite strongly and wondered if the oven setting was too high. On impulse she crept downstairs in her nightdress to check on it.

It was a mistake. When she opened the kitchen door Ethan was there, basting the turkey. She turned to make a swift exit but he'd seen her and asked, ‘What's wrong?'

‘Er, nothing,' she said hurriedly, ‘I just thought that it might be cooking too quickly.'

‘I see,' he said evenly. ‘Well, you can sleep easy as I've just turned the heat down, so go back to bed, Francine. Remember you're visiting. I'm in charge.'

She turned and went back up the stairs with the message crystal clear that she had overstepped the mark by butting into their Christmas.

 

‘I'm in the way, aren't I?' she said the next morning while the children were opening their presents. ‘I'll go as soon as there is a flight. There should be some on Boxing Day.'

‘I thought you came because you wanted to be with Kirstie and Ben over Christmas and New Year,' he said levelly. ‘There is no rush as far as I'm concerned. Just don't get any ideas about taking over now that you're here. As I told you last night, I'm in charge. I've had to be whether I wanted to or not.'

As he watched the colour drain from her face he was
ashamed for letting his hurt manifest itself so clearly. Whatever Francine did, he would never stop loving her. He'd been just as inflexible in what he saw as his priorities as she'd been in hers when their difference of opinions had started to take a stranglehold on their marriage, so at least he should be civil.

At that moment Ben came dashing in, carrying the sledge that had been one of his father's presents to him. ‘It's great, Dad!' he said. ‘Can I go and try it out?'

‘Yes, take Kirstie with you?' he told him. ‘She'll want to have a try.'

‘Not now she won't. She's too excited by what
Maman
has brought for her.'

‘And what might that be?' Ethan asked.

‘Fancy boots and a necklace.' He turned to his mother, ‘The telescope is great,
Maman
.'

‘And so are both of you, my darlings,' she said softly as he went chasing off to try the sledge.

At that moment Kirstie appeared, still in her pyjamas and wearing the boots and necklace. They smiled at the vision she presented and it was almost like old times for a moment.

Francine had come down to breakfast in a robe and slippers, not wanting to miss the children opening their presents, and now, with the memory of having been made to feel surplus and in the way, she went back upstairs to get showered and changed.

 

It was a strange sort of day, alternating between happy moments with the children and long silences when Ethan and she were alone. She'd noted that the turkey was cooked to perfection and wished she'd not interfered the previous night, and in keeping with her general
feeling of being in the way broke the silence between them at one point to ask, ‘Have you invited anyone round for Christmas dinner?'

‘Such as?' he asked with dark brows rising.

‘Er, Phoebe and her baby perhaps?'

‘Phoebe Howard. Why would I do that? She does have family to be with, you know.'

‘She was your partner when everyone was dancing through the village.'

‘So? I had to find someone, and as she's been to see me at the surgery with depression a few times I thought it might cheer her up if I asked her to join me.'

‘Ah! That is what Ben must have meant when he said you made him dance with Kirstie because you wanted to partner Phoebe.'

She saw his jaw line tighten and when he spoke again his voice was even colder than it had been in the kitchen in the middle of the night. ‘Do you honestly think I would consider replacing you after so short a time?' he said. ‘I valued our marriage more than anything on earth—you were the one to cast it aside like an old shoe.'

‘Surely you see there was more to it than that, Ethan,' she reminded him in a low voice. ‘Our differences of opinion were too big to ignore, and now that I'm here will you please let me help with whatever has to be done instead of shutting me out.'

‘All right.' he agreed sombrely. ‘We're both of the opinion that we don't want to spoil the children's Christmas so maybe it is best that you do help out.'

‘Thanks for that, and I'm sorry I jumped to the wrong conclusions about you and Phoebe. It was just that I
thought you deserved someone special to fill the gap I've left and that she might be it.'

He didn't reply. If he had done he would have told her that the gap she referred to would never be filled…that he didn't want patronising.
He
knew what he deserved and it was her, back in his life where she belonged. But it was too late for that. The marriage would soon be over. The solicitor's letter amongst the Christmas mail had confirmed that the divorce proceedings were progressing satisfactorily.

When she came downstairs later she was holding a gift-wrapped parcel and offering it to him said, ‘I didn't want to give you this earlier as I was concerned that the children's excitement might be spoiled if you refused to accept it.'

‘But it's all right if I refuse it now, is it?' he enquired quizzically.

‘I'd rather you didn't, but it's up to you,' she said, and went back upstairs with the feeling that she'd made things worse again.

Yet there was light in the darkness. Shortly afterwards he came up after her, wearing the cashmere sweater she'd bought for him in Paris and been doubtful she would ever see him in it, and announced, ‘If you look in the top drawer of the dressing table in the master bedroom you'll find a belated birthday gift and something for Christmas that have been waiting for you to show up, so that you might receive them in a less impersonal way than in the mail.'

‘And you can't be bothered to give them to me personally?' she asked as a lump came up in her throat.

‘Why, Francine? Would you want me to?' he asked gravely, and thought he was punishing her again because
even in the present circumstances to have her beside him in the flesh was bringing joy to his soul.

‘Yes, so either that or leave them where they are,' she replied, and went to gaze out of the bedroom window.

When she turned she could hear him going back downstairs and when next she saw him he had his cook's apron over the sweater and was preparing to serve soup and a sandwich for lunch to appease their appetites until the main meal in the evening.

F
RANCINE
was whisking the cream to go on top of the dessert she'd made for the Christmas meal and keeping an eye on the vegetables at the same time when Ethan announced, ‘I've invited my parents for New Years Day. They've always come before and I don't see any reason to alter the arrangement. When I made it I didn't know you would be here.'

‘Fine by me,' she told him with a sinking feeling inside. ‘It will be nice to see them.'

‘Yes, my mother maybe, but as you already know, my dad is a man who doesn't mince words.'

‘I'll go out for the day,' she offered hastily.

He was frowning, ‘The children won't want that.'

‘They won't even notice. They'll still be engrossed with what they've had for Christmas.'

‘Nevertheless I don't see why you shouldn't be there. Mum and Dad might feel hurt if you can't be bothered to spend some time with them. After all, they are not to blame for this situation.'

‘And I am?'

‘We both are,' he said grimly, ‘but it's past. We've made our beds and must lie on them. To get back to what I was saying, it would do you no harm to see them.
You've known them long enough. If Dad gets out of hand about the divorce, I'll deal with him.'

He was asking her to be polite to his parents, Francine thought wretchedly,
polite
to the kind mother-in-law that she loved. Jean Lomax had only moved from northern England to the south when she'd married his father, but had known what homesickness was and had understood how much she'd wanted to live in Paris in the house that was the only thing she had left of her parents.

She'd been sympathetic and supportive, but she loved her son and had accepted that he had to support his family
and
keep to the promise he'd made when he'd taken over the practice. Like someone on the rack, Ethan had been pulled both ways and she knew that he had stood his ground with an aching heart,

Her father-in-law, more volatile than his wife, had been furious with the French daughter-in-law that he'd always adored, and made no bones about it. The thought of coming face to face with him again made a chill run down her spine, but she would cope somehow for Ethan's sake.

‘All right, if that is what you want.' she replied, wishing herself miles away. With tears threatening, she told him thickly, ‘I'm taking the children back to France the moment New Year is over. I should never have come. It was stupid of me to think it could be civil between us, and as I'm already here it will save you having to bring them back the following weekend.'

He'd been putting crackers on the table while she'd been busy at the stove and knowing she was close to tears was gripping the back of a chair to stop himself from going to her and taking her in his arms. What
would it achieve if he did? It was all too late, he told himself as he'd already done countless times before.

Their marriage was on the slippery slope, had been for months because he'd made a commitment that he'd felt he was not in a position to back out of, and Francine, who was usually most understanding and logically minded, hadn't been prepared to back him up on it.

 

When the four of them were seated around the table for what Francine was expecting to be a travesty of a Christmas dinner, Ethan produced the gifts that he'd told her about earlier, and with Kirstie and Ben watching intently she unwrapped them slowly.

The belated birthday present was a book that she'd once said she would like and she thought how achingly different it was from the lingerie that he usually chose with care.

There was an unwritten, unspoken message in the gift he'd given her and she understood it all too well. It was the same with the Christmas present, an exquisite gold bracelet decorated by a jeweller with tiny shells that he'd gathered from the beach. It was another reminder of what she was missing, she thought, beautiful Bluebell Cove with its golden sands and breathtaking countryside—and him.

‘Thank you Ethan,' she said in a low voice and when Kirstie insisted on her wearing the bracelet she slid it carefully on to her wrist.

 

That night, sleepless once more in the spare room, Francine's mind was going over the day just gone and the strange mixture of it. The children's pleasure had been the highlight, and the giving and accepting of gifts
between Ethan and herself bizarre and hurtful when she thought of how it had once been. Yet she was still wearing the bracelet, couldn't bear to take it off.

New Year's Day was going to be strange too with the visit of Jean and Lawrence Lomax planned. At the beginning of the marriage break-up Ethan's father had told her angrily that a wife's place was with her husband and if this was where he earned his living it was where she should be prepared to stay.

The dread of meeting him again was still with her, but he was the last person she was going allow to tune into the state of panic-stricken indecision in which she was floundering.

In the meantime there was a week's grace before she had to face them. She was going to keep a low profile where Ethan was concerned, spending all her time with the children or on her own. The feeling of panic was still with her, the choking sensation every time she thought of the years ahead without him.

If she were to tell him that she'd changed her mind and was going to forget about the house in Paris, would it make any difference? she wondered. The scars on their relationship were not going to heal overnight, if ever.

 

When she discovered that the children had been invited to the home of one of their friends for Boxing Day she decided to spend the time they were absent walking along the coast road and stopping off for lunch somewhere.

As soon as they'd left she went to get ready and came down within minutes dressed in a warm jacket, jeans and her boots. Ethan was reading a medical journal in
the sitting room when she appeared and asked, ‘Where are you off to? There's still a lot of snow around after the heavy fall on Christmas Eve.'

‘I'm going to walk along the coast road and will eat out at lunchtime.'

He nodded and went back to his reading. There had been a time when he would have been beside her, she thought, happy that they were spending some time alone together, but not now. He was probably feeling relieved that she was going to be out of his orbit for a while as her role in his life had changed from cherished wife to intruder.

Outside there was a cold wind that stung her cheeks and the snow that had been there on the day of her arrival in Bluebell Cove still lay thick and crisp beneath her feet. Down below she could see the beach and the cold blue expanse of the Atlantic surging in once more.

In past summers when Ethan had finished at the surgery they'd spent lots of time down there, with the children fishing in rock pools and playing in the sand, and all of them swimming when the sea wasn't too rough.

It was far too cold for that sort of thing now, but she hoped he would still take Ben and Kirstie down there when they came to stay with him in the spring. The beach and the sea were two of the delights of Bluebell Cove, as was the enchanting village surrounded by the rolling green fields of the Devonshire countryside.

If she were to put all that on to one side of the scales of life, and on the other side place living in a house she owned on the outskirts of one of the most famous cities in the world and the place where she'd spent her child
hood,
but had sacrificed her life with Ethan because of it,
which way would they tip? she wondered.

The wind continued to bite. She pulled her jacket more closely around her. What was the point of thinking those sorts of thoughts? She'd made her choice and her life was a mess.

 

It was going dark in the cold winter afternoon and Ethan kept looking at the clock. Where was she? he wondered, the pale and drawn-looking stranger who not so long ago had been happy to live with him here, and now incredibly was back as a visitor, sleeping in the spare room instead of next to him in the double bed they'd shared.

But, he thought bleakly, he wasn't there to watch over her in Paris, so why get all steamed up because Francine was late from a walk that they'd done countless times before? Yet he couldn't help himself.

When their marriage had started to collapse she'd been immovable in her desire to live in France and in the end he'd given up on her and after being stunned by her request for a divorce had agreed.

But she was different now, he thought, lost and vulnerable, but not so much that she hadn't been quick to remind him when he'd seen her in the square on Christmas Eve and joy bells had rung in his heart that she was only over on a visit
to see the children.

He was going to have to keep a tight hold on his emotions because she'd been the one who'd wanted to end it, not him, and the pain of knowing she didn't love him enough to stay with him was unbearable.

He'd gone upstairs to find the sheepskin coat that he wore in this kind of weather, having decided that make
of it what she would he had to check that no harm had befallen her, when through the bedroom window he saw her coming up the drive and hung the coat back in the wardrobe.

She was blue with cold and he thought it could only have been a desire to get away from him that had driven her out into the wintry weather for so long. What a fiasco Christmas was turning out to be, both of them wary as warring armies with undercurrents all the time instead of straight talking.

When he went downstairs she was in the hall, taking off her boots and jacket, and he said, ‘Go and sit by the fire. I'll make you a hot drink.'

She was opening her mouth to refuse, he could tell. ‘Just do as I say, Francine,' he said, and she obeyed meekly.

He left her slowly sipping a hot toddy and went into his study, deciding that she didn't have to worry about him crowding her. It was the last thing he had in mind. He'd been dreading spending Christmas without her and now that she was here he didn't know which was worse—having no communication at all or the stiff dialogue that was all they were left with.

Everything had always been clear and uncomplicated between them. They'd been in tune in every way, including fantastic sexual chemistry, until Francine had inherited the house in Paris and her overwhelming homesickness had shattered what they'd had.

 

The children had just been dropped off. Tired and happy, they were full of the day they'd spent with their friends. As they were about to go up to bed Ben said, ‘
Maman
, we want to stay here where all our friends are.'

‘Yes,' Kirstie agreed. ‘We like it in France, but we have no friends there.'

Ethan watched the colour drain from Francine's face and thought that the children were quite unaware that they'd just dealt their mother a body blow. How would she react?

She'd been warm and drowsy after the cold walk, curled up in a big chair in front of the fire, but what they'd said brought her wide awake. As she was about to speak he motioned for her be silent, and ushering the children towards the stairs told them gently, ‘It's late. Let's talk about it in the morning. Your mother has been for a long walk and is tired.'

He went up with them and waited until they were settled, and all the time he was thinking that he should be rejoicing at what they'd said. Francine wouldn't take Ben and Kirstie back to France if they didn't want to go. She wouldn't see her children unhappy, but neither would she be able to exist without them if they weren't under her wing. They would visit her, of course, like they did him, but he would have the most control over the situation, their roles would be reversed.

‘I'm getting what I deserve, aren't I?' she asked in a low voice when he went back downstairs. ‘I put my own needs before those of you and the children and am going to pay the price.'

There was no triumph in him, just sadness as he said, ‘You'll find that Ben and Kirstie will have forgotten all about what they said in the morning. It was because they were on a high after spending the day with their friends.'

‘You must hate me, Ethan.'

‘Why would I do that? I've never had to live in a
foreign land like you did, so I can't pass judgement on that, but I've learned one thing and it is that no marriage is a rock. I thought that ours was and it proved to be on shifting sands. I won't ever get married again, Francine.' And with that announcement for her to mull over, he went to make them a late supper.

 

Ethan had been right, Francine thought the next morning as the four of them sat down to breakfast. There was no repeat of the comments of the night before and the children went off sledging on a snow-covered slope nearby the moment they'd finished eating, but as far as she was concerned the words had been said and she couldn't ignore them.

It was the first time she'd heard anything of that nature, which could mean that the novelty of living in France was wearing off, and if that was the case, what was she going to do? She was feeling guilty enough already for what she'd done to Ethan. She didn't want to spoil their lives too.

They knew that things were not good between their parents and that the separation was going to continue, but she and Ethan hadn't explained about the impending divorce as yet. They'd been more concerned with showing them how much they loved them. Yet the day would have to come and she thought achingly that if only he hadn't called her bluff when she'd taken them to live in France with her and had followed them, instead of letting it happen.

He was seated across from her at the dining table, waiting for any comments she might have, and she didn't disappoint him.

‘Are you upset that the children didn't pursue their request from last night?' she asked.

‘Why? Should I be?' he asked abruptly. He got to his feet, ‘I'm due back at the surgery this morning so I'll see you whenever.'