La Vie en Bleu (22 page)

“What’s the matter with her?”

His words, “mistake” and “I wanted to tell you” filtered in. I
tried not to smirk. “You slept with a woman called Brandy?”

Doug burst into tears. He clutched me to him and sobbed into my
shoulder like a little boy. “It was a mistake but she’s pregnant. I have no
choice, Pippa.”

He
was breaking up with me. “You’re marrying her?”

Why was that funny? It was no laughing matter. Do not snigger,
Saunders.

Doug sobbed harder, soaking my already sticky t-shirt. “I don’t
want to. She won’t get rid of it. She’s threatening to tell the papers, think
of the scandal.”

My, my, the golden heir of Fletcher enterprises knocking up a girl
called Brandy. Golf club dinners would never be the same. Stop it, that’s too
funny. Nope, no laughing.

A gross thought chased away the mirth. “How long?”

Doug held on tighter.

“Doug?”

“Just after you resigned. You were crazy. She was there.”

That made me feel better. We hadn’t . . . well . . . since then.
If I’d felt sympathy before, I definitely didn’t now. Way to show support,
numbskull.

“She the only one?”

He nodded into my shoulder. “Pippa, I adore you. I don’t want to
marry her. I promised you, I can’t go back on that.”

There was no way that Doug could survive cut off from his parents
and no way that Fletcher enterprises would continue to thrive without him.

“Doug, I love you, even though you are a complete idiot.” I
stepped back from him, pulled his ring out of my pocket, and handed it back.
“You are released.”

His mouth opened and closed a few times but then he hugged me
again. “You are trying to do what’s best for me.” He held onto me, confusing me
once more. “You’re such a good person.”

“Er . . . thanks?”

Doug looked me in the eyes. “You can have this place. I know what
it means to you . . .” He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. “I just need
you to sign this and I’ll sign the deeds.”

He’d certainly come prepared. The matter of me signing a gagging
order and I got a house.

A gagging order?

“Doug, who am I going to tell?”

“You can’t tell anyone,” he said. His eyes wide. “My parents don’t
even know. I need . . . I need us to have split up . . . for a reason that . .
. um . . .”

“Doesn’t make you look bad?” I said, desperate to hold the grin
back. He was so flustered it was cute. How was it that only now I realised he
felt more like an annoying brother?

“You understand . . . thank goodness . . . will you?” He held out
the gagging order again.

Thankfully, it was in plain English. I wasn’t to go selling my
story to the press about him or contacting him
ever
again. That bit
hurt. I loved the daft clot. He’d been a part of my life for eight years.

“Pippa . . . I love you . . . please . . . please know that.”

“Why don’t you tell them I’m gay,” I said, happily signing the
form. “You could say that I left you for . . . say . . . Berne?”

Doug shook his head at first but then rubbed his chin in thought.
“That could work. I mean, you always dress so shabbily. You hang around with
Rebecca . . .”

Nice touch there, Fletcher. Shabbily, wonderful. Thank heavens I
wasn’t breeding his rugby team. I waited until he handed me over the signed
deeds to the house. He’d had them put into English for clear reading. One thing
with him, he was fair in business.

“And, I
am
leaving you for Berne,” I said, tucking the
papers into my back pocket. “Doug, it’ll work because I’m in love with her.”

Now he was staring, then he laughed. “You almost had me convinced
there.”

“I should, it’s the truth.”

He scowled. “What?”

Before he could tear the deeds back off me, I held up my hand. “I
signed your waiver, which I think you will see at the bottom, only counts if
you leave me alone too and I get this place.”

“I don’t give a crap about the wreck. Why would you do that to
me?” He put his hands on his hips. It looked more camp than threatening.

“Doug, you knocked up an office girl. Neither of us seems capable
of fidelity.”

He sighed and bowed his head. “How did it end up in such a mess?”

I nudged his shoulder. “We had eight years. I love you to pieces
but maybe we just need different things now.”

“In your case, a woman,” he muttered.

“In your case, office girls.”

He sighed. “I’m not sure what I’m going to do without you. I hate
that we’ve ended up exchanging contracts.” He stared up at the ceiling. “Who
will I call when I need to talk?”

Did we talk that much? When had I become a valuable part of his
life?

“You got me through fending off that merger, you made me believe
in myself.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, which I could see was to hold
back more tears. “How will I cope without your voice to make me smile?”

Tears brimmed up in mine at his sweet words. “You don’t have to
tear me out of your life. You know where I’ll be. You can always call.” I
stroked his arm, feeling strange that I was the one in control for the first
time.

“What about the contract?”

I held his shoulders. “I’m about to go out there and tell my
parents and Catherine that I’m in love with another woman. You really think I
want to confess my life to some tabloid?”

He sucked in his breath.

“My thoughts exactly. You’re a part of me.” I straightened out his
shirt and pulled out a hanky from my pocket for him. “I know when you’re
married to Brandy,” oh what a name, “then you’ll do your best to be
honourable.”

He blew his nose, loudly.

“If you don’t love her, don’t marry her.”

He slumped down onto the stairs. “I have to, my father—”

“Will yell at you and then get over it. It’s not like he hasn’t
done the same thing himself, remember?”

Doug scowled and then hung his head again. “I cheated on you and
you’re the one consoling me.”

I sat next to him and leaned against his shoulder. “I cheated on
you too.”

He glanced at me. “Her?”

I nodded.

He squeezed my knee. “That why you didn’t want to come back to
France?”

I nodded again. “The only reason I left her was because Catherine
threatened to ruin her life.”

We both stared at the doorway. Eight years and we’d imploded like
one of my mother’s soufflés.

“Guess it’s a good thing I’m not pregnant, huh?”

“Right. What kind of parents would we be?” He shook his head. “Can
I really still call you?”

“If you understand that I’m with Berne and
will always be . .
. then yes.”

He smiled and nudged into me. “You said that to me, remember?”

I tapped him on the nose with my finger. “That was before you
knocked up Brandy.”

Huffing out his breath, he stared down at the contract. Then
proceeded to rip it up. “I don’t want her. I do want to know the child though.”

“You’ll make a great dad.” I got to my feet. “And you may want to
leave before I launch my thunderbolt at them.”

Doug didn’t need telling twice, he kissed me on the cheek and fled
like a gazelle from a lion.

I half wished I could flee too. The door looked pretty good
closed, shutting them out.

I stared down at the deeds. I was a homeowner. Yay me. I tucked
them in my back pocket and clung to the thought. With one last glance around
the gutted shell, I pulled open the door. Hopefully I wouldn’t resemble it
after confronting my personal ogre.

I glanced up at Catherine.

Oh shit.

Chapter Eighteen

BERNE PULLED THE food out of the oven and flashed a smile at her
hovering mother as she carried the delicious smelling pastries over to the
counter.

“You have something on your mind, Maman?”

Her mother laughed that cheery laugh that filled Berne with
memories of childhood. “What makes you think I have anything simmering?”

“Because you have been quiet since you saw Pippa kiss me.”

It was nothing new, Berne had always brought her girlfriends home.
Her parents had welcomed every one with open arms, but then they were like
that, loving.

“She moves you so deeply that I worry.” She passed Berne the
melted chocolate and began work on her own half of the batch. “I have not seen
you breathe so easily since she left you.”

“She did so to protect me, Maman. I only wish she had talked of
that time to me, written to me, anything.”

Spreading the chocolate on, Berne tried to let go of those empty
years. It didn’t matter now. All that mattered was that Pippa may come to her
and never leave again.

She would cling to that hope with every part of her, simply
because the alternative to it was beyond unbearable.

“I know that she loves you,” her mother said, touching a finger to
Berne’s cheek. “I know that to be away must have hurt her as much.”

Berne shrugged. Her default reaction to anything she couldn’t put
into words.

“What will you do if she wishes to live in England?”

“I will commute. Maman, I love this place. I do not wish to
leave.”

Her mother smiled. It was clearly the answer she’d been looking
for. Berne could see the relief shining through.

Although she would follow Pippa anywhere, Berne really hoped Pippa
would want to stay here. Pippa belonged in the sun, she excelled in France.
There was something about here that ignited a fire in her eyes. It was hard to
imagine the dull grey clouds of London doing the same for her.

Babs burst in through the door. “Bebe, I know that we said we will
stay out of it—”

“Where are they?” Berne strode to the door, her mother pulling her
apron from her.

“At the cottage, the man has just left. Rebecca is there . . .
mais
. . . there are three of them.”

Berne nodded as she walked through the doorway and strode up the
roadway. Babs, whose legs were shorter, trotted alongside. “You think they will
do something?”

“I do not know but I would prefer to be there . . . in case.” It
was silly to be so protective but she couldn’t help it. She couldn’t let her go
this time.

Babs smiled. “And to give her a reason not to run,
oui
?”

Berne looked at Babs and let how she felt show. “If she loves me .
. . I want her to run
to me
this time.”

THE HEAT OF the sun tingled at my skin as I made the slow march
towards the enemy. Doug had left nothing but a dust cloud and Rebecca was
holding my father in conversation. I was sure that on TV shows and in books,
women who faced their family found some kind of hero juice and presented their
innermost feelings with complete and utter confidence.

I was anything but.

Okay, I loved Berne. I wanted to be with Berne. I had no real idea
what that meant or why. Even acknowledging that I only wanted to be with her
didn’t seem to pump rainbow juice into my veins and make me want to ride a
Harley.

Now, I was pretty sure that I was being slightly stereotypical but
I could have really done with some kind of leather jacket “I don’t give a
monkeys, like me as I am or get stuffed” attitude. I could have also have done
with the scary staring thing that Rebecca’s ex had turned into a fine art.

Instead I felt like a toddler shoved in front of a pack of roaring
lions. I also felt completely naked, which I wasn’t, I checked, a lot. Naked,
terrified, without confidence, and about to be devoured by lions. Yup, I was a
wimp, a big wimp who wanted to run.

“Now look what you’ve done. I hope you didn’t upset the boy
because you can get right in that car and apologise.” My mother launched a
prize shot as I headed over to them.

What was it with that tone?

Mothers seemed to have this innate ability to rip the foundations
from under your feet. I looked at Rebecca for help. She smiled, urging me on
with her eyes.

“I . . . I . . .” Breathe. It helps not to pass out.

“I did upset him.” Nice start, you birdbrain.
“He and I have . .
. we . . . called it a day.”

A chorus of almost hostile “What?” filled the air.

My father looked like he may turn into a raisin with the purple
colour he was sporting. “He will
not
abandon his child. I’ll not stand
for it!”

Oops, he thought I was pregnant. Quite moved that my father was
leaping to my defence, it took a cough from Rebecca to hurry forward and stop
him giving chase.

“Dad, I’m not pregnant.”

He looked from me to my mother who threw her hands in the air.

“Daphne?”

“Don’t tell me you
told
him that?” My mother’s exasperation
seethed through her words. “No wonder he left you. Why would he stay with you
otherwise?”

Ouch. Sucker punch. I glanced at Rebecca. She nodded to me. She
believed in me. I’m glad one of us did.

“I . . . I . . .”

“Yes, yes?” my mother snapped.

“I . . . left him.” And silence. One way to stun the crowd,
Saunders.

“Are you out of your mind?” My mother looked like she was about to
storm over and shake me. She strangled her handbag instead. “Who will look at
you now?”

“Daphne!” My father’s shock echoed my own.

Ouch and then some. Was I
that
worthless in her eyes?

“Look at her,” my mother shot at me. Her coiffed hair flopped
about as she waved a hand at me. “She’s on the shelf at her age.” She wagged a
finger at me. “Your biological clock is ticking. Soon she’ll start to look like
she dresses and then what?” She flapped the bag around. “Is she going to spend
her life living with that?”

The “hey” from Rebecca made my jaw tense until my ears wiggled.

“Why flipping not?”

“Phillipa, language!” My mother placed her hand over her chest as
though civilised society might just see her in this embarrassing situation.

“I told you.” Catherine’s half-smirk, half-pitying look stung.
“She’s sick.”

Two words that at nineteen had brought me to my knees in a quivering
mess. Two words that had robbed me of my confidence and instilled so much fear
that I’d buckled. Two words that still rocketed agony through every pore. How
could she think that of me? I hadn’t hurt anyone. I had looked up to her and
the disgust hit me as hard as it had back then.

“Sick?” Rebecca shot back at her. “You want to try that one with
me, you uptight little bitch.”

“Girls, enough!” my father boomed, stopping the impending fight.
“Phillipa, what is going on?” His voice was soft. I’d never seen him so gentle.

“I . . .” Flashes of the motorcyclist on the ground. Cold English
rain. Catherine’s words, “you’re sick,” pounded through my head. “I . . .”

“Can’t even say it, can you?” Catherine sneered. “Disgusted at
yourself?”

“If you don’t shut the—”

“I said quiet, Catherine. Not. One. More. Word.” At his command
she shrank back. My mother glared at me.

Rebecca nodded to me. “You can do this, Pip.”

“I . . .”

What if they walked away? What if I lost them? What if they hated
me? The motorcyclist, the rain, the taunts, over and over.

“I . . .”

“Phillipa, tell me the truth. What is going on?” My father
positioned himself to block out the others. His warm hands over mine. He’d
always been so distant, so busy with other things, would he hate me too?

“I left him because . . .”

Come on, Saunders . . . Come on. Will you run and hide forever?

“Because . . .”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Berne stride into view as
though she was riding to the rescue. Every part of my body and soul got up and
bounced around in joy. I
could
do this.

“I love her.”

“Rebecca?” my father asked. No judgement in his voice, not even a
bit.

“Well, yes, but no. I’m
in
love . . .” I pointed at Berne,
Babs scurrying alongside. “I’m in love with her.”

“Which one?” he asked, leaning into me.

“The short ass is mine, Mr. S,” Rebecca chimed with such pride, I
smiled.

My father looked me in the eyes, really looked at me. “You have
known this for a long time?”

“Yes.” I tried to keep my chin up, ignoring my mother’s sobbing
and Catherine’s glares. “I met her when I studied here. We worked together.
She’s who Roger placed me with. She’s . . . she’s what makes me feel alive.”

He frowned at me. I tensed ready for the abandonment. “Why did you
go out with Doug, then?”

Well, I wasn’t expecting that.

I glanced at Catherine. Her sneer was so venomous that I wondered
just where that hero of mine had gone. How did someone get that mean and
bitter?

“Ah, I see.” My father straightened out his shirt and marched over
to Berne who hadn’t slowed at all. “Pleasure to meet you, I’m Phillipa’s
father.”

Berne shook his hand warily. “
Bonjour
, I am Berne . . .
Pippa’s . . . friend?”

He nodded. “Yes, yes . . . Well, it’s good to finally put a face
to the name.”

“
Pardon
, monsieur?”

“Doug. Has been talking about you and your father for months . . .
poor chap.” He shook his head. “Well . . . as you can see Daphne, Phillipa is
happy and well. It’s time we went home.”

“Well?” Catherine snapped. “You just leave her to these . . .
freaks?”

“Oh shut up,” Rebecca snapped. “Like you’re a picture of purity!”

“What would you know, you little tramp.”

“Will you two desist?” My father motioned to my mother who was
still sobbing. “What will they think of us, hmm?”

My mother stopped as did my sister.

“As I can see, these ladies have their emotions under control.” He
shot a fatherly smile at Rebecca. “This one has her own rules.”

“You can’t really be defending
that
against me,” Catherine
spat.

“Catherine, dear, if you don’t wish to end up having a corrective
nasal procedure, perhaps it’s best
not
to taunt the redhead.”

He pulled her by the arm and shoved her at the car. When she was
in, he turned and glared at my mother. “If I find out that you knew about any
of this, you’ll be sorry.”

My mother got into the car without a word. I was terrified for
her. My father didn’t do angry or raise his voice often but when he did,
everyone took cover.

I ran over to him. “You don’t hate me?” I felt all of eleven years
old.

“Girl, what is there to hate?” He shook his head at the car. “Good
old Roger has been the most amazing chap. Served together.”

“I know, but what does Roger have to do with it?” I knew he’d
recommended Berne as my tutor but huh?

“Fine man,
wonderful
golf swing.”

Not sure if my father was about to drool, I touched his arm. “What
does he have to do with it, Dad?”

“He’s been living with a chap from Italy for years.” He chuckled.
“He has a terrible shot—the man couldn’t hit a ball if his life depended on
it.”

I should have known that with my father everything came back to
golf.

“His handicap would make your mother’s look professional.” He
laughed at his own joke.

I dived at him and hugged him as the tears flowed down my cheeks.
“He knew?”

“Wiley man, Roger. Wouldn’t put it past him at all.” He grinned at
the thought, looking as if he needed braces to run his hands up and down.
“You’re the youngest. Not an easy place. Sibling rivalry is always a problem.”
He patted my back. “You know where I am if you need me.”

He gave a quick clearing of his throat, a brief nod to the girls,
strode around, and got in the car.

Stunned was too polite a word for such a feeling.

Of all the people I thought would be happy for me, it had been my
father. Wonders never ceased.

“Wow,” Rebecca said as they disappeared up the road. “I guess it pays
to fix the guy’s car.”

“Definitely,” I mumbled.

My hands were like I’d been on the sea in a storm, my knees and
stomach weren’t much better.

Berne nestled up behind me, wrapping her arms around my waist.
“Bravo, Pepe.”