La Vie en Bleu (12 page)

“Yeah,” Rebecca answered. She was crunching crisps. The sound made
me hungry. “Weirdest thing is, I got a call from your mother.”

I hadn’t eaten when I’d gotten up and my stomach rumbled. I ran my
hand over it to try and quell its protest. Why didn’t I pick something up on
the way? I could never concentrate when I was hungry.

“You listening or what?”

“Hmm?” The man across from me had some kind of roll. It looked
yummy. Ham, was there ham in there?

“Pip!”

“Right, yes . . . my mother.”

“Yeah, your mother,” Rebecca mumbled between crunches. “She said
you went AWOL on her.”

Maybe I should go see if there was a buffet cart. Did the TGV have
one? I swore I’d brought lunch when Bern—

“Pip, focus!” Rebecca sighed in the background.

My stomach rumbled louder. I was starving now.

“Pepe, where are you?”

Berne’s voice brought my stomach to attention. In fact, my whole
body did an about turn.

“On the train.” I had no idea why I’d whispered like I was in a
library.

“Where are you going on the train?” Berne whispered back.

Her response made me chuckle. It was official, I was a loony. “
Je
ne sais pas
.”

“You do not know?” Berne tutted. “I do not think that is true.”

My first thought to flee the stifling baby talk in Paris had
driven me to the train. I’d intended to get on the train and go somewhere quiet
to think. Looking down at my ticket, I felt the embarrassment wriggle up
through my stomach until it heated my cheeks.

“If I tell you, it won’t be a secret.”

“This is true,” Berne said. “
Mais
, if you tell me, I will
keep your secret and your maman will not need to send out a search party,
oui
?”

“I’m an adult. I can get on a train if I want to.” Yes, because
that was so mature. Thirty-one going on eight. “I told her I needed a few days
to think.”

“Then, let me meet you at the station and escort you to this place
of thought,
S’il te pla
î
t
.”

“I’m not going to Marseille,” I said. The fact Vivi-vixen was
strutting her sultry voice in the same city coated it with a “no go” sign.

“But you go to Lyon,
non
?”

I looked down at my ticket. Hmmm . . . maybe. “No?”

Berne laughed, her voice filled my ears and made me feel like I’d
ended up in some bad country song. Why was everything about her so close to
need? Why did she do this to me?

“Let me get you to your sanctuary. I will ask for no more.”

“Liar.”

Berne laughed again. “Then I will feed you first,
oui
.”

Oh low blow. My stomach rumbled. It was hopeless. She was like
breathing. “I’ll be at the station in half an hour.”

“
Merci
. I have someone who will bring a smile to your
face.”

I doubted it. The last thing I wanted to do was to face anyone.
“Rebecca is more likely to give me stomach ache.”

“But this is not her.” Berne’s dropped H’s made my stomach growl
again. I knew how it felt. “This is someone who misses you much.”

A smile split across my face, making the man opposite grip his
baguette like I would launch myself at him. “Babs?”

“Who else?”

My intended solitude forgotten, I lay my head back against the
chair. Babs was one of the most electric people I’d ever met. She was thrumming
with energy, laughter, and an erratic spirit that exhausted and exhilarated
anyone who came within feet of her.

“Keep her away from Rebecca. Poor girl won’t know what’s hit her.”

Berne chuckled once more and my mood was lifted. It was official.
She had some kind of superpower that made my brain dribble out of my ears. “It
is too late for that,
mais
I think your friend has some wiles of her
own. It will be an interesting battle.”

I looked out at the scenery and remembered a very old bet Berne
and I had once made. I smiled. It would be more than interesting, it would be
epic.

“SHE GOT ON the train to Lyon?” Babs’s lips curled into a smile as
she swung Clio around a bend and Berne tried to suppress the jolt of
electricity in her stomach. It didn’t mean anything that Pippa had run towards
her and not London.

“I can’t believe she ditched her mother and ran,” Rebecca said
through gritted teeth, her knuckles white on the seat. “I have never seen her
so much as breathe out of place round the old bat before!”

“Her mother is strict?” Berne rubbed her hand over her tense
stomach muscles as they whizzed along the road towards an old guy on a bike. It
had shown courage for Pippa to walk away but what did that mean? Was she
following her heart once more?

“Yes and no,” Rebecca said. “Think it’s the
fact that Pippa never felt good enough, never quite fit the box her mother
wanted.”

“I cannot imagine Pepe feeling such doubt.” Babs yanked the
steering wheel to avoid the cyclist, throwing Rebecca into the door. “She is
sure of her heart and soul.”

“She was sure enough to leave.” Berne shrugged off Babs’s look. It
was foolish for such a betrayal to ache after all these years. Pippa had her
reasons back then, she had apologised. Why then, did it still hurt?

“You know, I’m gonna be grilling her about that.” Rebecca nodded
as Berne turned around to look at her. “It’s not like Pip to duck out on anyone
without at least explaining.”

“Like she has with her mother?”

Rebecca sighed. “You got me there. Something is shifting inside
her cold shell if she’s breaking free.” She offered a gentle smile and let go
of her seat long enough to squeeze Berne’s shoulder. “Maybe you hit her deep
down.”

“Perhaps.” Berne braced herself as Babs overtook a tractor on a
bend. “
Mais
, it is not my place to find out these things.”

“It’s always your place, Bebe,” Babs said. “I married you,
remember?”

“You what?”

Both Berne and Babs turned to look at a stunned Rebecca.

“You . . . what?”

“Not officially,” Berne said, grabbing the wheel and steering the
car onto the right side of the road as Babs adjusted her bobble. “Babs decided
that we would be so during a day at the beach.”

“What did you do to her?” Rebecca shut her eyes as Babs leaned
forward to dig out a hairbrush. “Doug had to blackmail her into getting
engag—wait.”

Babs took control of the wheel as Berne tried to read the frown on
Rebecca’s face. “There is a problem?”

“Oh great llamas in pyjamas!”

Berne looked at Babs for help only for her to shrug.

“Did you give her a ring?”

Even the thought made Berne grin from ear to ear. “
Oui
. It
was handmade . . . an heirloom.”

“Kinda swirly and silver?”

Babs nodded, shooting Berne a grin.

“Oh great mice of Marsden!”

Again, Berne looked at Babs who again shrugged. “Maybe it is a set
saying?”

“She never takes the stupid thing off.” Rebecca seemed to forget
that they were hurtling Babs-style through the growing traffic. “She had it on
the night he proposed. She really didn’t want to swap fingers . . .
Merde!
”

“Now
that
I understood,” Babs said with a smirk.

“She wore it until then?” What did it matter? It was not official.
Doug’s ring would replace it for good and then it would be nothing but a
memory. A silly token from a past stranger.

“She
still
wears it now!”

The car screeched to a halt in mid-traffic. People beeped and
swerved as Babs spun around.

Rebecca covered her face in her hands. “I need more whiskey to be
in a car with you.”

Babs pulled Rebecca’s hands away as Berne looked on. Her heart
hammered a pulsing march through her head.

“She wears the ring . . . now . . . still?”

“Yes, she only switches them when he’s round.” Rebecca took deep
breaths, cringing as the traffic continued to hurl abuse at them. “Can we move
already?”

Babs shook her head. “That means she must still love you.”

“We know this already.” Berne motioned to the wheel, trying to
calm her silly heart. “She told me she loves me. It changes nothing.”

Roaring them into motion, Babs waved her hand in the air. “Oh no.
It means we need to get her to that beach so we can make it official this
time.”

“You are forgetting Vivienne.” Berne folded her arms as if that
would settle the matter but Babs would ignore it, she always did. “You are
forgetting that she wishes to be with him, that she left me to go back to her
life.” She wagged her finger in the air to stop Babs protest. “You forget that
she has not explained this, only repeated the escape from him.”

“You think she’s a commitment phobe?” Rebecca chewed on her lip.
“Maybe you’re onto something there.”

“
Alors
, it does not become a question of love then,
non
?”
Berne’s heart seemed to wilt with the reality. It still hurt, it still ached,
nothing had changed. “It is more a question of who she loves enough to conquer
this fear.”

“Oh eggshells in Ealing, we’ll be having DVD fests in a retirement
home.”

Berne frowned at her.

“I love Pip, I do. I adore her, but what happens if
I
fall
in love?”

“Pepe talks of your wish for this never to happen.” Berne raised
her eyebrows, enjoying Rebecca’s blush. “She says you like to be free.”

“I do . . . but . . . well . . . things can change . . . can’t
they?”

Berne looked at Babs whose eyes twinkled with mischief. Pippa was
right. No doubt this battle would be epic.

“Either way, if she comes to me, I cannot just break my promises
to Vivienne. What if Pepe leaves once more?”

Babs slammed her fist onto her horn. Rebecca
leapt up and smacked her head on the ceiling. “We need to find her heart, her
courage. We need to draw her out and make her believe in love!”

Rebecca cheered in response. The pair were dangerous together.

“I will—
we
will—not do such a thing.” Berne scowled at them
both as Babs whizzed them into a parking space. “If Pippa wishes for more, she
will need to explain much.”

“
Merde
,” Babs spat her way. “Pepe will simply need to flash
those beautiful—”

Berne opened the door to escape, the station was busy and humming.
Pippa’s train would be pulling in at any moment. Why, if she was so set on not
caring, why was she rushing to her rescue?

Because they were friends?

Because they had once been more?

Berne glanced back and rolled her eyes as Babs squeezed her hands
in a gesture that made Rebecca roar with laughter. They were trouble together
that much was clear.

Looking up at the board, Berne tried to ignore the fact that she
should be with Vivienne. She’d done exactly the same thing Pippa had done and
left without an explanation. Would she be brave enough to tell the truth on her
return?

Again, she was at Pippa’s beck and call, again she was falling
into that pattern of coming to the rescue. How could she not? Pippa was
everything. Pippa was who she connected with. Pippa was—

Berne sighed and slowed to an amble as the train pulled in.

Pippa was on that train coming to her. Doug was in Paris. Pippa
had run to
her.
Like always, she would be waiting, like always, with
open arms.

Chapter Ten

THE NERVES SWIRLED around in my stomach as I caught sight of Berne
standing on the platform. Although I’d seen her quite a few times since being
back in France, my body seemed to hum, heightening in intensity with every
glance. I groaned to myself, she was incredible. To call her simply beautiful
wouldn’t do her justice. She was one of those women who you could happily sit
and stare at all day and still not tire of looking at.

She was forty-one and she had a line in the middle of her
forehead. She had a longer face maybe but the years had added to her. I had no
idea how to explain it but she looked even better than she had when I’d known
her. I guess she was more herself now, more aware of who she was. Not that
she’d ever been under-confident in any way but, well, she seemed stronger. I
didn’t miss her wince as she shifted between her feet however. So I wasn’t the
only one who was aching from digging after all.

As I got off the train, I couldn’t keep the grin from my face as a
pocket-sized bundle of French energy hurtled at me and nearly tackled me to the
ground.

“Pepe!”

It had been years since I’d been Babs’d, but memory served me well
enough to turn my cheek before she planted a smacker on my lips.

“
Ça va
, a million
bisous
, I cannot believe you are back here!”

I knew better than to attempt to smooth over my clothes and
pretend that I hadn’t suffered a full-frontal assault from the Flying
Frenchwoman. No one in the station raised an eyebrow at the public show of
affection. Nope, they were quite used to enthusiastic greetings clearly.

“And ah!” Babs pointed to my chest and I half-tensed ready for
some smutty comment, only for her to tap my left breast. “This is familiar,
non
?”

She dragged me by the hand over to Rebecca and Berne. “I know this
shirt, do I not?”

Feeling the cringe-worthy realisation of why she was making such a
fuss, I glanced down at my French rugby top, or rather it had been Berne’s top
once. Hmmm . . . explain that, Saunders. Freudian slip much.

“
Alors,
how did she get this?”

Berne sighed as though she thought anyone would think she was
tired of Babs teasing.

She wasn’t.

They were a duo, they had always been.

I’d loved the fact that Babe, as I’d dubbed them, had been as
close as Rebecca and I. It was one of the many things I adored about Berne.

“We should be escorting her to her thinking place, not digging
up—”

“There’s another story?” Rebecca’s eyes glinted and my stomach
wriggled with the embarrassment. “You
have
to spill it.”

Babs grinned. “Oh, it will make you see her with new eyes.”

Rebecca leaned in closer. “Please tell me it’s something I can
blackmail her with.”

Babs tapped Rebecca on the nose with her nail. “Without one
doubt.”

I turned from the ping-pong conversation and glanced at Berne, who
shrugged, seeming to read my thoughts. “You’ve been outnumbered for a good
while, huh?”

“
Oui
, my mother combined with these two was . . .
interesting.”

I loved the way she talked. I turned to walk towards the steps and
nudged her shoulder. “Do you have scars?”

Her gentle chuckle made the hairs on my arms ripple. It was a
laugh that put visions in my head. Visions of long, hot summer days on a
secluded stretch of sand with—

“Now, what do you whisper?” Babs yanked me by the hand and led me
towards a very familiar red Clio.

“You still have her!” I ran over to the beaten up old beauty. “I
have great memories of squeezing into the back of this baby.”

“Did you seriously just call a car baby?” Rebecca raised her eyebrows.
“Who are you and where is Pippa Saunders?”

“This is Pepe,” Babs said. “She is the mischievous twin,
non
?”

I ignored the teasing and patted Clio on the bonnet. She seemed as
well-loved as I’d remembered. How I’d missed this place. Every single part of
it. Winston and Clio would be soul mates, this I was sure of.

“Where would you like to go?” Berne’s voice held an edge of an
untold question. I was confusing her. I was confusing myself. What right did I
have to come crashing into her life after all these years and cause her chaos?

I swallowed back the ache that she probably wished she could be
with Vivienne right now. Palpitations stuttered through my heart. Why
wasn’t
she in Marseille or was Vivienne here? “I won’t keep you. I just need to get to
where we’re staying so I can pack a few things.”

“You leave?” Babs sounded irritated by my answer, she didn’t look
much happier either.

Wonderful, Saunders. Where were my manners?

“Well, not without catching up and letting you tease me
mercilessly.”

A smile burst onto her face and she bellowed her laugh out as she
opened her door.

Rebecca started at the booming chuckle and blew out a long breath.
“You know she’s a lunatic on the road, right?”

“That’s why I’ll do the driving.” I held my hand out and Babs
happily threw me the keys.

“Hey, I didn’t know that was an option.” Rebecca looked more
relieved than annoyed.

“You did not ask, my little English banana.”

Her accent wrapping around banana gave it a joyful tone that made
Rebecca’s cheeks colour but only enough that I could see.

Rebecca waggled her eyebrows. “Well, my little French peanut, next
time I most certainly will.”

I looked at Berne and she wiggled her eyebrows in silent
agreement. “I think they need to avoid beaches for a while . . .”

WE ARRIVED BACK at Ajoux-Sur-Rhône and Rebecca and Berne concocted
a wonderful feast together as Babs cut some kind of business deal on her phone.

The woman was one of the most high-powered business women in the
country. Her fortune made Doug’s look small but she still lived in her tiny
apartment and drove Clio. I loved her for that very, very much.

In fact I absolutely adored the three women with me in the little
holiday cottage. Berne and Rebecca busy at work in a small, but functional
bland kitchen. The brown tiles on the floor had been recovered from the
eighties and the cupboards looked like something from the fifties.

The cooker and microwave looked modern enough though. Okay, cheap
brands that meant they had to be newish. Nothing with those names on it lasted
very long. Especially if there were oafs like me using them. Berne and Rebecca
working together made it look more professional.

Berne always cooked with an apron around her waist. Why, I didn’t
know because she was always neat and tidy. Rebecca had her own habits, sleeves
rolled up, jewellery off, and a baseball cap on backwards. I never understood
why, because her hair was shorter than Doug’s but yet she always did it. If she
bore a faded green baseball cap, food was forthcoming.

I sat on the sofa because it was safer for all concerned if I
stayed away from hot surfaces. Instead I curled up in the corner, tucked my
feet underneath me, and enjoyed being in their presence. It felt good to be
with them. I felt happier here. 

Berne caught me looking and strolled over to sit beside me. “Where
did you plan to go?”

Something I’d run over and over on the train. “Here’s the thing .
. .” I turned to look at her, hoping that if I looked, I’d not falter and end
up causing chaos. Besides, with this angle, I could feel Rebecca buzzing about
the kitchen and it would help me behave. “You know that I love you, right?”

Berne smiled in response and her eyes twinkled. I gripped the
chair to stop from moving.

“Thing is . . . I need to know myself . . . I need to figure out
who I am now.” I wrapped my arms across my chest, it was better than launching
myself into her arms. “I promised to marry Doug. When . . . if . . . I do, I
want it to be truly me . . . to be right.”

There was more. Much more I needed to explain but it was stuck and
wouldn’t budge. She needed to understand.

“That makes sense.” Berne’s dulled tones made my stomach ache.

“I love
you
though,” I said, confusing her as much as
myself, no doubt. “I mean . . . I need to know if . . . why . . . I need to
understand if that’s because we were young or if . . . well . . .”

Why wouldn’t the truth come out? Why couldn’t I explain to her why
I’d left?

“How do you wish to do this?” Berne asked, her apron as spotless
as when she put it on.

Wishing wasn’t a wise subject with my heart in overload. No,
better for the well-mannered approach. “Doug will be worried if I just head off
into the country. He’ll have the cavalry out before I can blink. I owe him an
explanation for leaving.”

“Then tell him that you want time to think.” I didn’t miss Berne
averting her eyes. I owed her an explanation too.

I wanted to reach across and cuddle her, instead I hugged myself
tighter. “It won’t work. He won’t listen. Besides, he thinks I’m pregnant for
some absurd reason.”

Berne frowned and I couldn’t resist a quick squeeze of her hand.

“I’m not by the way. I need you, Babs, and Rebecca to cover me.”

“Got your six, Saunders,” Rebecca chimed from the kitchen.

“
Oui
,” Babs added, poking her head in from the porch.

“You aren’t meant to be listening.”

Both of them shrugged and went back to their tasks.

“Can you take a few days, I . . . well . . . can you?”

“Of course, my father will happily call in someone to finish the
foundations.” Berne smiled. “You wish to do the Ardèche once more?”

How did she know me that well? Why was she making this so easy for
me? If I was her, I would have . . . well . . . no, I’d have done exactly the
same. I would have done what she needed and pined away inside. I would be
wearing that look she was now.

“Would that be okay?” I closed my eyes, hoping that she wouldn’t
tell me she needed to be with Vivienne.

“I will happily be your guide.”

“Why are you so patient with me?” My mother’s words about being
less pedigree than her other offspring rubbed at my already raw senses.
Especially my sister. She was so perfect.

“The same reason you suffer my presence,” Berne said. “We fit well
together.”

I linked my fingers with hers. My breath quickened as she smiled.
I needed to do something or I’d end up leaning forward, planting my lips to
hers, sweet, slow—

“Food, ladies!” Rebecca threw the tea towel at my face. “You can
dish out.” She rapped my knuckles with a spoon as I reached for a taste. “And
then you can tell me why Babs was so excited about your shirt.”

“She’s patriotic?”

Rebecca poked me in the ribs. “You owe me the truth, Saunders.”

I owed a lot of people the truth.
Take a ticket and wait for
your number to be called.
I sighed. It was the least I could do. It must
have hurt to learn how different I’d been here in France. It must have been
hard for her to realise how much had been buried.

There was much I needed to explain to everyone concerned but most
of all, I needed to understand what I wanted to say. I needed to understand
what I felt and what it meant.

However I found the answers inside me, I would still be hurting
someone and perhaps, after my actions in recent weeks, I could end up alone.

I owed it to everyone, and I owed it to myself, to find out
exactly where my heart lay even if that meant uncovering parts that I’d happily
forgotten. There was a lot of pain I needed to face before I could get there.
What hurt would I reawaken within my thudding heart?

DOUG WAS NOT in the best of moods when I called him later that
evening. If he could have seen that I was lounging out on the sofa with my head
on Rebecca’s lap, he may have been even grumpier. It was the very reason I
neglected to video-call him.

“Sweetheart, I know that you have some problems at the moment,” he
began with the tone that adults used with toddlers. “But running off like that
makes everyone unhappy.”

Everyone but me. I was perfectly happy. I had three people with me
who made me feel like me.

“Doug, I need time to process everything.” How could I say this
without bottling out? “I need time to come to terms with how I feel.”

“Your mother said you would be unreasonable at this time.” His
voice sounded more like my father’s than a future spouse. “I suppose we will
have to expect these little blips, won’t we?”

The fact that Doug thought I was pregnant didn’t take away from
his patronising. Okay, so I’d been a bit crazy but crazy did not mean stupid.

“I suppose you will,” I snapped. “I’ll call you when I’m ready to
talk.”

“Now, sweetheart. Why don’t you let my guy come and pick you up?
You don’t need to be working now.”