La Vie en Bleu (5 page)

“I would say call my mum but I doubt even she could fix this,” I
said as we got in.

Rebecca squeezed my knee. “DVDs it is then.”

Winston spluttered into life and Rebecca’s teary words rose above
the squeaky brakes. “I love you. You know that, right?”

“I’ll remind you of that when we are scrabbling for pennies to
eat.”

Rebecca laughed. “Thankfully you have a rich fiancé.”

Ah, Doug. I really hoped he would become a hero, Mr. Darcy style,
and make good on my threat. I really hoped that he could support us until
Rebecca and I found new jobs. He’d always offered and now it seemed like we
couldn’t refuse.

“At least he’ll get his wish, huh?”

Rebecca nodded. “Yeah. Don’t think we have an excuse not to go to
France now.”

“We?”

She squeezed my knee again. “Like I said, I have your back.” She
smiled at me. “Besides, maybe some French R and R is just what we need.”

Chapter Four

IF I HAD expected Doug to be disappointed in my rash decision to
leave or disturbed by the fact I had told the company he would ditch them, I
would have been completely wrong. Doug was not only impressed by my sudden
insanity, he was beyond delighted. “I’m so glad you finally came to your
senses,” and, “that dump was below you,” were two of his encouraging remarks.
One, however, shocked me into silence.

He had been dressing for work while I lounged in bed, wondering
what I was going to do with my day, when he turned and smiled. “At least now
you won’t have to quit when we’re married.”

Not quite one hundred percent awake, I mumbled, “Quit what?”

“That place,” he said, planting a kiss on my lips. “Last thing you
want to be doing is working.” He smiled. “There’ll be so many kids to look
after you won’t have time.”

Not sure if I’d fallen into some kind of dream, I frowned. “Are we
buying an orphanage?”

He laughed. “No, our kids.” He fixed his tie, planted one more
kiss on my lips, and strolled out of the room. “That’s a job in itself.”

Over our brunch, I’d told Rebecca what I thought I’d heard. I had
convinced myself that she would tell me I was crazy and Doug had not turned
into a caveman before my eyes. Instead she offered me a pitying smile.

“Come on, Pip,” she said. “The guy comes from a big family. He was
bound to want a rugby team.”

“But he doesn’t have to squeeze them out of him, does he?”

Rebecca chuckled between crunching on her cornflakes. “You telling
me you don’t want some fantasy with a zillion sprogs scampering around . . .
Pip . . . Pip . . . you okay?”

I cradled my head in my hands. I felt a sudden wish to dig an
escape tunnel. Raising children was something that grown-ups did, people with
real jobs and . . . well . . . I wasn’t mature enough for that. I mean, maybe
in ten years or . . . well . . . just when I was older.

“Pip, you look like you’re going to pass out on me.”

“It’s nothing . . . I . . . It’s nothing.”

Rebecca rubbed my back in soothing circles. “Hey, you’ll find
another job. We’ll find something else.”

“Doug was serious. He really meant what he said.”

She handed me some orange juice. “Hey, he’s a guy. They like all
their ducks in a row.”

“I can’t be one of those bored housewives.” Days of golf clubs and
school runs and the WI. The nausea rolled in my stomach.

“There are worse things.” Rebecca furrowed her eyebrows at me.
“It’s not all that bad.”

Sure that she must think I was losing the plot completely, I tried
to calm my breathing. Why did the sudden realisation make me want to run? What
was so wrong with kids and marriage? Why did I feel like I’d been given a life
sentence?

“It’s not like you have to get married tomorrow, Pip.”

Deep breaths. Slow . . . deep . . . focus on the tension leaving
the body. “Right, you’re right.”

She leaned in closer. “You don’t have to get married
at all
if you don’t want to either.”

Slow . . . deep—“What?”

“You don’t
have
to marry Doug.” She crunched more cereal.
“There’s no law.”

“I promised.” That sounded like a pathetic reason to walk down the
aisle. “I mean, I love him . . . I want that.” Why did that sound like a
question instead of a statement? “He’s great, isn’t he?”

“Right.” Rebecca smiled. “Prince charming and all that.”

“Yes, he’s handsome, rich, sweet . . . he
loves me.” Slow . . . deep
. . . calm . . . Maybe it was just nerves? All women had nerves,
right?

“Doug is the best.” She drained her bowl of the remaining dregs.
“You want a cheer or something?” she asked as I stared at her.

“You think he’d let you live with us?”

Rebecca’s eyebrows shot upwards. “Pip, I think even Doug may draw
the line at that.” She leaned her head against mine. “Growing up sucks
sometimes.”

I thought of losing my space, my time with Rebecca. Pyjama days
replaced with day care. Was it too early to start drinking?

My phone buzzed with an incoming call and Rebecca answered while I
tried not to bang my head against the table. Why was I panicking now? I’d been
engaged to Doug for over two years and I’d coped just fine. Maybe it was
resigning my job. Maybe I’d dreamed the whole thing?

“Pip, Doug wants to talk on speaker.”

I wondered why she was announcing it over the sound of my own
raspy breathing. Did other women hyperventilate at the thought of marriage?
“Okay.”

“Hey, babe . . . you dressed yet?” He chuckled.

I didn’t. I wasn’t dressed.

Was he going to turn into one of those men who ordered me around?
Would he become a tyrant?

“I’ll dress when I want to,” I snapped. Stick that. Yeah, I could
be a slob if I wanted to be.

“Pip.” Rebecca prodded me in the shoulder.

“What was that?” Doug was in the car. He still didn’t seem to
understand that when you were on speaker phone, it was better to have the
windows
up
.

“Nothing.” I shrugged at Rebecca’s frown. “Everything okay?”

Was he calling to check if I had dressed or was he concerned about
me? Maybe he thought I’d become one of those neurotic women who used a whistle
to snap their kids into line. Oh crap, a rugby team. I couldn’t imagine one
baby let alone a whole team—

“Pip,” Rebecca prodded again. “Doug asked if you are free this
afternoon.”

“Are we?” I wasn’t about to ditch my friends for him. Oh no,
Rebecca needed a place on the grounds. I would need help with the mob of children.
How did he expect me to cope with all those—?

“Pip!”

“Right.” I shook the thoughts away. “Don’t think we have anything
pressing.”

“Great.” Doug sounded elated. “You want to pack a case, ladies?”

Rebecca grinned. “Somewhere warm?”

“This is a workman’s holiday.” He sounded almost singsong. The
kind of tone he always used when he thought he was doing something wonderful.
“You’ll need some working clothes but yeah, the summer is looking good at your
destination.”

“We’re on it.” Rebecca hung up and dragged me off the chair. “Get
in your room and pack.”

“So he just snaps his fingers and you jump?”

Rebecca burst into laughter. She clutched her side, howling until
the laughter became silent. Her eyes screwed up, her mouth open.

“It’s not funny.”

She bent over at the waist and leaned against the doorjamb to my
room, the tears dripping off the end of her nose.

“It’s not!”

She was gasping for air and I felt myself chuckle in response. I
wanted to be angry but the chuckles grew louder. Her eyes squinted up completely
and I broke into sobbing laughter with her.

“Pip, don’t do that to me,” she managed, wiping tears from her
eyes. “I needed that.”

“You think I’m being crazy, don’t you?”

“I
know
you’re being crazy. Now, get yourself in there and
pack.”

Grumbling, I did as told. I’d never been great at packing. Rebecca
rolled everything up into neat piles, everything colour co-ordinated.

After changing, I looked at my wardrobe. What to take? What was a
workman’s holiday? Stumped, I pulled everything out and crammed it into the
case as it was.

“If I become a robot, I’m blaming you,” I muttered her way as she
unpacked my attempt and redid the whole thing. “I can’t raise people without
you to help. I can’t even pack my own suitcase.”

“You won’t have to raise them alone. That’s what Doug is for.” She
zipped closed the case with practiced ease. “It’s not like I’ll be far away.”

“But I can’t sneak into your room when he snores.”

“Pip,” Rebecca said, squeezing my shoulders. “You’ll have kids’
rooms to go hide in.”

The whole thing sounded terrible. Maybe I could delay the wedding
for at least ten or so years. I’d be ready then.

“Good thing he doesn’t know about
La femme
Fran
ça
ise
, non
?”

Having managed to go a whole two weeks without one thought about
my time in France, I ended up hugging myself for support. If Doug found out
that I had wandered over lines, he would never believe I hadn’t done the same
with Rebecca. The sole reason he was so trusting with her was the fact he
believed me to be one hundred percent straight. Which of course was about as
true as Rebecca’s fashion sense. I doubted discovering my little secret would
help convince him that I was not running around cavorting with every woman in
London.

Doug had a weird perception that all lesbians were Casanovas. I
doubted they were all like Rebecca, she just had an air about her. It was
called eau-de-cocky. She swaggered, women swooned, and I rolled my eyes.

“Pip, I’m just kidding.” Rebecca rubbed my arm. “You’ll love
having your own house and the Fletcher brood.”

Not sure why her reassurances weren’t helping, I feigned a smile.
“I guess so.”

The Doug tap sounded and I jumped away from her like I’d been shot
at.

He walked in, grinning, followed by the chauffeur. “Ready to get
some sun, ladies?”

“Let’s go, Saunders!” Rebecca lugged my case into the living room,
her glance at me suspicious. I shrugged. I was acting guilty, of what I didn’t
know.

The chauffeur took mine and Rebecca’s two cases and hurried out.
She always packed the British way, which meant for every single weather event
she could think of. Another British strength, the ability to pull out a
raincoat like a gunslinger. I had the visual of Rebecca at high noon and
chuckled. Doug was watching me as if he expected excitement. Rebecca was
staring at me as though she wanted an explanation and I . . . I really didn’t
want to go.

“Come on, Pip.” Rebecca strode out of the door, leaving me with no
option. I couldn’t just stay there.

Doug flashed a dashing smile my way and I felt myself relax. He
was amazing, why was I worrying? He looked toned and handsome in his tailored
suit. The tie had been discarded and the buttons popped open, making him look a
lot like a film star.

“You ready, babe?”

Taking a deep breath, I smiled. “Why not?” Being Mrs. Doug
Fletcher wouldn’t be so bad, right?

Chapter Five

DOUG HAD THOUGHT it amusing to blindfold me for the last hour of
our journey. He felt it would spoil his surprise if I looked out at the
beautiful scenery. The lack of complaint from me must have made Rebecca suspicious
as both of us knew how much I hated not being able to see. In my stress-addled
brain, I thought that if I couldn’t
see
France then technically I wasn’t
in France. It was clutching at crushed lemons, as Rebecca would say, but it was
my delusion, so I wasn’t going to argue with it.

“Pip,” Doug whispered into my ear. He had sounded more and more
like a naughty schoolboy the longer we drove. “We’re just pulling up now.”

“Funny,” I said. “I don’t remember us being in a plane.”

Rebecca chuckled in the back of the car at my pathetic joke but
Doug let out his sigh. It was the one he always used when he missed my point
completely. He had never gotten my sense of humour.

“Baby,” he said. “You’re an odd one.”

The first time I’d heard that line, I’d been offended. Since I’d
heard it countless times over the years all it did was make me picture Rebecca
in my head. It was one of her best impressions of Doug. Another laugh fell from
my lips, which must have made Doug think it was caused by him as he squeezed my
knee. Sometimes I wondered if he understood me at all.

Before I could ask him, the car slowed to a stop and my heart
decided to pound its way into my throat.

“I’ll get the door.” Rebecca’s voice bounced with excitement,
which in turn, made my stomach wriggle. Okay, so she was the equivalent of an
over-enthusiastic three year old with
everything
but still.

“Pip,” Doug said, helping me from the car. “Time to see your
project for the next few months.”

If it was a nursery, I was running. The warmth on my skin made my
muscles relax and I could smell . . . well . . . countryside. Freshly mowed
grass, some kind of flower, and fresh clean air.

“Don’t look so worried,” he said, taking my blindfold off. “It’ll
be ours then. We can start a life here.”

Vivid green, deep blue, rich reds, the colours flooded into my
eyes. France had always been such a vibrant palette of colours in my memory but
I’d put that down to the rose-tinted viewpoint I’d had. But no, France was
vibrant, the trees looked abundant with health as if I’d stepped from a
greyed-out print right into a Renoir.

A little stone bridge rolled over a gently trickling brook. An old
farmhouse set in a vista. I stared for a moment at its blue door, paint
peeling, grubby windows in the top panel. A little light hung over the centre,
cocked to the side and smashed. It was framed by some kind of plant, maybe ivy,
which had embraced the walls with splashes of pink and white. It was unloved
but something about that door seemed to stir me.

France. I was in France once more. I turned to drink it all in as
the hillside swept down to fields full of crops, interjected with swathes of
lavender. The spire of a church peeked over a copse of trees in the distance.
We had to be in the South with the Benedictine look of it. Sunshine felt like
medicine here, like rays of health bathing my skin until it tingled. France did
something to my soul. I could feel my heart thumping with joy at our
re-acquaintance. I’d dreamed of it, yearned for it and now the dusty soil baked
beneath my trainers and the endless blue sky welcomed me.

The down side was that it almost looked like her hometown.

She’d taken me to visit quite a few times in that year.
Ajoux-Sur-Rhône, a quiet, quaint village nestled along the mighty Ardèche.
Strong sweeping curves, rugged, untameable. She loved it there, working on her—

“Pip, I take it you like?”

I jolted myself out of my thoughts. Where was I? I needed to stop
daydreaming. Focus, Saunders. “I love.” I walked to him and showed my
enthusiasm with a kiss.

Rebecca cleared her throat. “So, what’s the job, Dougie?”

He frowned. He hated it when she called him that. “You always
wanted to be an architect. I can’t give you a degree but I’m hiring you to
project manage the renovations.” He smiled at me. “Meet your head carpenter.”

“What?” The both of us stared at him. Was he serious?

“Well, you both were something before you joined that place.” He
added venom to “that,” which I knew was more to show he was on our side than
anything else. “If you do a great job. Who’s to stop you there?”

I wasn’t sure which one of us wanted to kiss him most.

“Could you be any more perfect?” Rebecca was close to it, I was
sure. If she could have wowed him by batting her eyelids and looking up at him
shyly for effect, she would have.

Doug folded his arms with his delight shining in his eyes. “Keep
talking, keep talking.”

I kissed him again, this time with every single inch of joy I
felt.

I think I shocked him by the wide-eyed look he gave me. “Wow, Pip.
If I’d known this was all it would take to woo you, I’d have found you more
wrecks to fix.”

At last, he was finally getting me.

“Berne and her father will be along later.”

I tripped over a divot in the grass and nearly ended up in the
front wall.

Rebecca caught me, a flash of suspicion in her eyes. “Berne?”

“Yup,” Doug said with a chuckle. “If we’re in France then who else
would I have to be the main contractor.”

Berne . . . How did he know her name? Had I talked about her
that
much? Oh brother, please tell me I didn’t talk in my sleep.

“I knew you loved it when you were in Marseille and you said that
the woman you knew lived in Ajoux-Sur-Rh
ô
ne.”

“I did?” I squeaked. Had I been drunk? I must have been drunk. I
never
mentioned her name. To mention her name was to . . . well . . . it sounded so
good, so smooth, so—

“Yeah.” Doug was completely ignorant to me gripping onto Rebecca’s
arm like it would save me. “When we first met. You were telling me how you
would have loved to have worked with her on a project.”

Ah. Had I been merry that night. Our first date and nerves had
gotten me into a gibbering mess. Doug, thankfully, had not noticed quite how
drunk I’d been. Rebecca had nursed me through that weekend.

“Really?” Rebecca raised her eyebrows. “So this Berne will be
working with us?”

“And her father,” Doug said. “After all, they are the local
artisans.”

Rebecca caught me before I passed out on the spot. Oh crap, we
were in Ajoux-Sur-Rhône, oh crap, oh crap. My heart beat so fast that I was
sure that it showed through my rib cage.

“She okay?” Doug caught on that I was looking less than glowing.

“Heat,” Rebecca mumbled, gripping hold of me. “You want to get us
inside in the cool?”

“Right.” Doug hurried to the door, unlocked it, and let us in the
almost derelict open-plan cottage. “Have some water, Pip.”

I took the offered bottle and used it to focus on something other
than . . . well . . . Slow sips, cool liquid, Evian was so smooth, Berne was
smooth too . . . oh no . . .

“So talk us through what you want,” Rebecca said, leading Doug
away to give me time to think. Thank God for her. Thank God she knew me.

Sipping at my Evian, I focused on the surroundings. There would be
a lot of repair work needed to the stone. The rafters and floors were rotted
through. Where I sat, on the damp remains of a stair, I could see black charred
marks. It explained why the place had been open plan and why there was so much
water. I hoped no one had been inside when the place went up in flames.

Curious, I got to my feet and wandered through to the left. It had
been some kind of entertainment room, the remains of a billiard table in the
centre. There was even a melted TV still mounted on the wall. The blaze had
ripped right through the place so I was careful to watch my footing. It had
been over a decade since I’d done anything more than DIY at the flat. However
nice it was that Doug trusted me, I would need someone with a lot of experience
to help. And Berne and her father had it in abundance. Berne was ten years
older than me and well, she’d always been the voice of experience and wisdom
and . . . just breathtaking.

Balls.

“Bonjour?”

Uh oh.

My skin tingled with just the sound of her voice. My heart
pounded. I froze to the spot. Oh, how even a hello pulsed energy through me. I
was in trouble.

“’
Allo?
”

She’d seen me. I tensed. Her heavy boots clomped on the hollow
floors. I couldn’t pretend I was deaf. I couldn’t exactly throw myself out of
the window and run either. For a start, that wasn’t polite and if anything, I
was polite. A deserter, a coward but a polite one.

“Madame?”

Her hand touched my arm. I started with the reality of it. She was
here, she was touching me. I needed to lie down.

“I’m sorry,” I managed, sounding like I was hyperventilating. “I
didn’t hear you.”

Do not turn around, woman, stay staring at the mess. Where was
Rebecca? Where was Doug?

“It is a tragedy,
non
?” Berne’s voice gave a hint that she
had recognised mine. Her questioning tone almost adding, “Is that you?”

I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t cope. It was too raw, too real,
she
was too real.

“What happened here?” My voice was shaking. I tried to keep my
tones clipped, unrecognisable. Why, I didn’t know. She would soon see me. What
would she think? Would she still think I was beautiful? Would she be?

“A rich man from the city bought it.” I remembered enough to know
that to her, the city meant Marseille. “He had the place gutted, but he spent
no time here.”

Berne speaking English, her dropped H’s and her smooth tones. It
was always a tone or two higher when she spoke a foreign tongue. In French it
was deeper, richer . . . melodic, enchanting, the way she caressed each vowel
was so—

“Ah, so you’ve reacquainted!” Doug strode into the room with a
clomp. “What do you think, Pip? Can you fix her up?”

Fix anything? The effort of standing felt like I had run around
the South of France, twice.

“Pippa?”

My skin did a rippled Mexican wave when she whispered my name. Uh
oh. How did I get out of this? What was the proper conduct? How did one greet a
woman, who was the love of my life, a woman I’d abandoned, in the presence of
my soon to be husband? I couldn’t just stand and stare at the devastation.

Move, woman . . . you need to move. “How did you find the place?”
I sounded unnaturally cheery as though I were either about to pull out a gun or
dissolve into maniacal laughter.

“I was looking, the guy said he was done with the place.” Doug
walked to me and placed his hands on my waist. “Thought there was no place
you’d rather have a holiday home than where Berne was.”

Silence.

Thick heavy silence.

Berne was taking it all in. I could feel her watching me. I knew
her well enough to know she was taking in every detail. Doug’s words would
confuse her no doubt. I wasn’t meant to care anymore. I left after all. Why
would I want a holiday home in her hometown? Who did that, ever?

“So,” Rebecca said, clapping her hands. “You guys fancy some
sunshine discussion?”

I heard the sound of footsteps behind me as I riveted my gaze to
the charred table.

“You want to help me grab some rocks to arrange for it, Berne?”
Rebecca asked, always the hostess. “It’s a pleasure to meet you at last by the
way.”

“It is nice to meet you also—”

“Rebecca.”

The, “ah,” in Berne’s response made me smile. I’d talked of
Rebecca a lot during my time here. Berne had always wanted to meet her. I think
to determine if there was anything going on between us. It was one of the
reasons why I hadn’t told Doug about the true nature of my relationship with
Berne. He’d think the same thing. That, and I was a chicken.

Doug left my side to join the introductions. “I’m Doug Fletcher.
We spoke on the phone.”

“
Oui
.” Berne’s tone was icy at best. “I did not know that
you knew of me.”

His confident laugh showed just how much of a clue he
didn’t
have. “Course. Pip talked so fondly of you that I’ve been itching to find an
excuse to meet you.”

Now I knew
that
was a lie. If I’d mumbled anything about
her, it had been on that first date and at no time since. I couldn’t. I’d loved
her so much that it physically hurt.

“She did?” Berne sounded shocked.

I closed my eyes. What must she think of me?

“So, let’s head outside and talk shop, yeah?” Rebecca saved the
day once again. I owed her chocolate for a month.

I heard the three of them leave, walked to the billiard table, and
resisted the urge to curl up on top of it until it all went away. It had taken
me two years of living in a daze just to not wake up with her on my mind.
Banishing her from every conscious thought, I had slowly, surely begun to crawl
from the emptiness being without her was. I still wasn’t over it. I doubted I
ever would be.