Hothouse Flower (60 page)

She was seeing a ghost, conjuring an image in her mind. He was not real, she knew that.

When I open my eyes, he will be gone
…

She did so. He was still there.

Then the figure spoke. ‘Hello, my Julia. I am returned.’

53

Julia had no concept of how long she stared at him. Still her brain refused to process the messages her eyes and ears were sending.

Because it was …
impossible
.

As she gazed at him, she realised that this was Xavier – and yet it was not Xavier. Or at least, not the Xavier she had carried in her head since the day he had died. This Xavier had aged ten years, perhaps twenty; a Xavier who was no longer merely thin, but gaunt to the point of emaciation. And a Xavier who had acquired a jagged scar running down the left side of his face.

‘I understand you are shocked to see me,’ he offered.

Julia had an inappropriate urge to giggle hysterically at his understatement.

She managed to find her voice. ‘I am trying to work out,’ she said slowly, over-exaggerating her words, ‘whether or not you are a ghost. A hallucination.’

He shook his head. ‘No. I am not.’

‘Then …’ Julia struggled to find the right words, but merely managed a half-swallowed, ‘How?’

‘My Julia, there are many things we must speak of but, please, come to me. Hold your husband, who is back from the dead. And feel for yourself that he is real.’

Xavier held out his arms to her.

Slowly, following his instructions, Julia rose and walked towards him.

‘Oh,
ma chérie
, my Julia,’ he murmured, as he took her in his arms. ‘You cannot know how long I have dreamt of this moment.’

The touch of him and his familiar smell confirmed he was no hallucination.

It was all too much. Julia burst into tears.

‘I don’t understand, I just – don’t –
understand
!’

As she slumped against him, Xavier half-carried her to the sofa and sat her down, his arms locked about her.

‘I know, I know,
ma petite
, it was always going to be a terrible shock for you to see me again. I tried to think how it would be best for you,’ he said, stroking her hair, ‘but there was no good way.’

‘But how?’ she cried. ‘How can you be here? You are dead,
dead
! You died a year ago … and if you didn’t die, then where the hell have you been?!’

‘I will tell you everything, in good time,’ he soothed. ‘For now, we should celebrate that we are reunited.’

‘No!’ Julia pulled away from him abruptly. ‘I need you to tell me
now
! Xavier, tell me now,’ she implored.

‘
D’accord
, you are right. I must tell you. But first, perhaps we both need a glass of wine to help calm our nerves.’

As Xavier left the sitting room to pour the drinks, Julia sat completely still, unable to comprehend what had just happened.

‘Drink this,
chérie.
It will help,’ he said, handing her a glass.

Julia didn’t think it possible that anything, and certainly not a glass of wine, could ‘help’. But she sipped it as he told her to, if only to have something to concentrate on. ‘Please,’ she implored again, ‘you have to explain to me, Xavier. Until you do, I feel I might go mad. Please.’

Xavier took the glass from Julia’s hand and put it on the coffee table. Then he put his own, long-fingered hands over Julia’s, his eyes never leaving hers.

‘
Ma chérie
… I have wanted, yet dreaded this moment for so long. I did not know what to do for the best; should I stay away from you forever? Prevent the shock of this instant, and protect you? And, yes,’ he nodded, ‘in some ways, it would be easier for me too to stay away. To hide, not face up to the terrible thing I have done to you. But then … no! I knew I must not run away, I must be brave and face my responsibility as a husband, and as a father.’

A sudden, urgent thought came to Julia’s head. ‘Oh my God!’ She clapped a hand to her mouth. ‘Tell me, Xavier, tell me, tell me – if you are alive – is Gabriel –?’

Xavier shook his head. ‘No
, mon amour
, he is gone, he is gone. I … saw him with my own eyes.’

Julia withdrew her hand from his. She took a deep breath, garnering every ounce of her strength. ‘Just tell me.’

Xavier gulped down the rest of his wine then tried to reach again for Julia’s hands. She pulled them away. ‘No! Don’t touch me!’ She could hear hysteria edging into her voice. ‘Please! Just tell me!’

‘
D’accord,
c
hérie
, I will begin. That day, that terrible day, we left the party at seven o’clock. Gabriel asked me if he could sit in the front of my new car and I agreed. We drove off towards home, with the roof of the car down, Gabriel so excited about being in the front of Papa’s sports car. He was screaming and laughing, urging me to “Go faster, Papa! Faster!” And because –’ Xavier choked – ‘I simply wanted to please him, I did as he asked. I took the bend too fast, and swerved to avoid a car coming the other way. I lost control and the car left the road and tumbled down the hillside.’

Xavier broke down. ‘Forgive me, Julia, forgive me …’ He swallowed, then continued. ‘The car finally came to a halt when a tree blocked its way. I was in shock, and my face was bleeding,’ he touched the scar on his cheek, ‘but I was still conscious. I looked immediately to see if Gabriel was all right, but the seat next to me was empty. I realised he must have been thrown out when the car fell down the hill. I managed to climb out of the car, and ran back up the hillside to find Gabriel.’

Xavier put his head in his hands. ‘Oh Julia, Julia …’

She watched him numbly as he composed himself, but said nothing. What could she say?

‘I found him,’ he whispered, ‘further up the hillside. At first I thought he was just unconscious. You see, there was not a mark on him. But then – Oh! God help me!’ he cried. ‘I lifted him up and his head lolled on his neck like a – broken doll. I knew then he was seriously injured, that the fall had caused terrible damage.’

‘You’re saying his neck was broken?’ Julia had to know, she had to know exactly
how
her baby had died.

‘Yes. Then I realised his eyes were open … wide open, but they were not blinking, Julia, they were not blinking. I checked his pulse and found nothing, shook him, tried to rouse him, but I knew then he was not seeing me any more, that he was –
no
!’ He choked, then shook his head. ‘I cannot say the word.’

‘You are saying you knew then that Gabriel was dead?’ Julia uttered the words for him.

‘
Oui, chérie
, he was … dead. I sat with him for I do not know how long, holding him in my arms, willing him back to life, but there was no response. And then,’ Xavier shuddered at the memory, ‘I hear a loud bang and saw the car below us had burst into flames. Everything was so dry in the forest, it took only a few seconds for the fire to travel towards me. And – how can I tell you this, how can I?’ Xavier sobbed, great heaving sounds of anguish. ‘I ran. I ran and ran. Through the forest and away from the fire. And –’ he let out another strangled cry – ‘I did not take our little boy with me! I did not … take … our boy … with me!’

Xavier could go on no longer. He put his head in his hands and sobbed.

Julia sat next to him, staring into the distance, willing herself to stay where she was. ‘Please, Xavier, keep talking. I need to know everything.’ She could hardly believe the eerie sense of calm which had descended on her.

A few minutes later, Xavier continued. ‘Every day, I ask myself why,
why
, in that moment, I did not pick up our
ange
in my arms, and carry him away with me? I cannot explain … I cannot explain.’ He shook his head manically. ‘I left him there, alone! Perhaps, it was the shock, the terrible grief …
a madness
, that overtook me in that moment. Perhaps it was simply a selfish instinct for survival. But I did it, Julia, I left him there, I left him there.’

He was weeping again, but Julia was still unmoved. ‘So, where did you run to?’

Xavier wiped his eyes and nose on the back of his hand. He shook his head. ‘Julia, I cannot tell you where I went, but when I had stopped running, when I knew that I was safe from the flames, I simply lay down where I was in the forest and fell asleep, or perhaps I was unconscious. When I awoke, night had fallen. I closed my eyes and again went back to sleep. The next time I opened them, it was morning. And then – the realization – I must come home to you, explain what had happened. But every time I thought of this, of getting to my feet and coming back to you, I found I could not. In the end I did start walking, and I realised I was close to St Tropez, so I went on until I reached the town.’ He paused and took a deep breath before saying: ‘Julia, I beg you to understand that, at that moment, I was half-mad with grief. Outside a
tabac
, there was a newspaper. You know what the headlines were that day.’

‘No. I didn’t read them.’

‘Well, of course, it was you on the front page. They did not have a picture of me yet, but no one would have recognised me that morning.’ Xavier grimaced. ‘When I saw myself – with blood caked down my cheek and my clothes ripped – I looked like a vagrant, not the husband of the famous Julia Forrester.’

Xavier stood up abruptly and began to pace around the room.

‘I cleaned myself a little in the public facility, then bought some water and a newspaper. And read about the accident, about Gabriel and about myself. And I realised that, as far as you and the rest of the world were concerned, I was dead. And in that moment,’ Xavier stopped pacing and turned to face Julia, ‘I knew I could not return to you and tell you the truth of what I had done; I knew you could never forgive me. I had killed our
petit ange
, and left him there in the forest to burn.’ Xavier stood, drained of tears now, staring past Julia. ‘So, I ran away.’

‘Where to?’

‘I took a boat, a pleasure cruise, that was sailing along the coast. It took me to Nice, where I boarded a ferry to Corsica. I checked into a small
pension
in the hills and stayed there until the cash I had with me ran out. After that, I spent some weeks fruit-picking, but always moving on so no one would recognise me.’ Xavier shrugged. ‘Perhaps no one would have done, but I did not want to take that chance. I did not want to be found. I think … I must believe that I was having a breakdown. I could not think rationally; my mind had closed to what had happened. I only existed. Can you understand that, Julia?’

His eyes beseeched her for a response, but she could not give him one.

He sighed. ‘And then, I suppose, I slowly began to heal. And I started to think again, think not only of what I had done to Gabriel, but also of what I had done to you. I had allowed you to believe that not only your beloved son was dead, but your husband too,’ Xavier ran his hands frantically through his hair, ‘and what a terrible thing it was to do to you. It took many months before I found the strength and courage to return to you. But eventually I did. And here I am.’

There was silence between them for a long time.

Finally, she said: ‘How did you know I was here?’

Xavier looked at her, an expression of surprise on his face. ‘Where else would you be? If you had been away at a recital, I would have waited for you here. Anyway, you were here,
ma chérie
.’

‘I haven’t been,’ Julia replied impassively. ‘I’ve been in England. And certainly not playing the piano.’ She stood up briskly, needing to be away from his shocking presence. And to grapple with the horrific truth of their son’s death. And Xavier’s part in it.

She walked out through the hall and the kitchen, and on to the terrace.

As she stood, gazing up at the ink-black sky crowded with stars, she wound her arms round herself in a futile protective gesture. And remembered with derision how she had believed life had taught her as much as she would ever need to know about pain.

She had been wrong.

‘Forgive me, forgive me …’ Julia asked the heavens, as she acknowledged that, of the two of them, she wished it was Gabriel who had been spared.

He killed our child.

NO! Julia shook her head. She could not, must not, think that. It was an accident, a moment of irresponsibility, a tragic choice any parent might make during the many years of caring … Besides, it was impossible to know whether Gabriel would have survived, even if he had been strapped in his child seat in the back of the car.

He left him there in the forest to burn.

‘Oh, God,’ Julia whispered.

How could she ever forgive that?