The Paris Affair

25 Julia

25

Julia

July, 2002 – Paris

After the argument with Daniel, Julia walked back to La Tour d’Argent. Sebastian and Christoph did not question her, but threw the odd concerned look in her direction while they chatted. She ate her duck in silence, wrapped in her own thoughts.

Sebastian left at ten to catch his flight. Julia went with him to get his coat.

‘I’m sorry if I made things worse,’ he said. ‘I just don’t like the fact that Daniel’s here with you, not after how he’s behaved in the past.’

‘Oh, Sebastian,’ Julia said. ‘You can’t look after me all the time.’

‘No, but I wish I could.’ He cupped her cheek. ‘If I wasn’t your manager, would that make a difference?’

Julia shrugged. ‘In Madrid, yes, it probably would’ve made a difference. But now … my head is in such a muddle with everything. I need you as my manager right now. Nothing more.’

Sebastian put on his coat. ‘I guess that’ll have to do,’ he said. ‘And speaking as your manager, have you been able to keep up the practising while you’re here? I can arrange a practice room at the Conservatoire if you need it.’

Julia shook her head. It had been bliss to forget all about the piano for a while and lose herself in Sylvie’s recipes. ‘I’m giving my hands a complete break for now,’ she said.

‘Don’t leave it too long.’ He kissed her cheek. ‘Take care, Julia. I’ll see you in London next week and help you prepare for Salzburg.’

Julia returned to the table.

‘Well, that was quite an evening,’ Christoph said.

Julia sighed. ‘Having Daniel and Sebastian in the same room wasn’t a good idea.’

‘There’s definitely a bit of rivalry there,’ Christoph said with a chuckle.

‘Nonsense.’ Julia blushed. ‘They don’t like each other because of what happened at the recital.’ She glanced around the restaurant. ‘At least we can talk now they’ve gone. I’ve been longing to ask if you remember coming here with Sylvie.’

Christoph sat back in his chair. ‘I do remember. Being here was the start of something. Maybe I didn’t realize at the time, but I was falling in love with her.’

‘Was she falling in love with you too?’

Christoph took a sip of wine. ‘I’m not sure. We sat over there, by the window. She wasn’t at ease with me here. But later, when I took her up to the rooftop garden at Le Meurice, she seemed to soften.’

Julia got out her notebook and wrote down what he said. ‘Why did you take her up there?’

Christoph shrugged. ‘I wanted to take us somewhere that felt far away from the roles we played in the war. I played the “Moonlight Sonata” for her. For a moment, while I was playing, I believe we forgot what had brought us there. At least, she agreed to go away with me.’

Julia stopped writing. ‘Go away with you? Where?’

Christoph shook his head, looking uncertain again. ‘I’m sorry, Julia. I don’t know.’

Julia patted his hand and gestured to the waiter for the bill. ‘Don’t worry. Perhaps it will come back to you in the morning.’

Julia sat by the window of her hotel room in her blue dress, staring at the Eiffel Tower. Christoph had gone to bed hours ago, but she couldn’t sleep. The notes of the “Moonlight Sonata” echoed in her head. She picked up Sylvie’s recipe book and thumbed through the pages.

The next recipe was Brath?hnchen, a simple peasant dish of chicken and vegetables. Underneath, Sylvie had written: Cooking for two at La Ferme V-L-B in Normandy is different to cooking for unseen guests in a hotel kitchen . What did V-L-B stand for?

A tentative tap sounded on the door. Julia slid the recipe book under her pillow and went to answer it. It was Daniel. He looked dishevelled in the harsh light of the corridor, his clothes still damp from the rain.

‘Is Sebastian here?’ he said.

‘No, he went to the airport to catch his flight.’

Relief flooded Daniel’s face. ‘Can I come in?’

‘I don’t know …’

‘Look, I’m really sorry about tonight. I shouldn’t have left like that. What you said to me on the street, about the money. I’d like to explain.’

Something in his voice made her hesitate. She didn’t want to turn him away. ‘All right. Come in.’

He sat down by the window and Julia sat opposite him. The lights of Paris spilled across the darkness like jewels. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table.

‘You were right. I did take the money. But it wasn’t what you think.’

‘What was it then?’

‘It’s not easy to explain. I’ve never told anyone. You see …’ He hesitated, tapping his fingers against the wood. ‘I took the money for Mama.’

‘Hilde?’ Julia said, startled.

Daniel rubbed his temples. ‘I loved her, but she was troubled. Do you remember the night she burst in on us when we were kissing? How unstable she was?’

Julia recalled how Hilde had cried. Up until that moment, the night had been almost perfect. Julia and Daniel had ended up in his room, eating the fondue she’d struggled to make. He’d told her that he couldn’t stop thinking about her, and her heart had thudded as he’d moved closer, his eyes deepening. The kiss had barely started when Hilde barged in.

‘I thought she was upset because I was in your room,’ she said. ‘She seemed to resent me being there, as if Christoph had gone too far by inviting me to stay.’

‘No, it was more than that. Don’t you remember what she said?’

Julia nodded. It was said with such bitterness. Pianists take and take and never give back until one day you have nothing left . Hilde’s barely disguised animosity towards Julia hadn’t helped Julia’s relationship with Daniel either. Her disapproval had spilled over on the night of the recital when she’d told Julia that it was her own fault Daniel had disrupted things, that Julia had led him on. Julia recalled the curl of cigarette smoke from Hilde’s mouth as she delivered these barbs in the garden. She seemed to believe she was saving her son from a life like her own: that of being unloved and neglected in favour of the piano.

‘Since I was ten or so, she suffered from depression,’ Daniel said, his brow furrowed. ‘The crux of it seemed to be that she felt Papa never really loved her. When he was away teaching, she always feared the worst, that he was having affairs, being unfaithful. She never trusted him, and it ate away at her. No matter how much he tried to reassure her, or I tried to comfort her, she would slip into a black mood that never seemed to shift.’

‘She burdened you with all that?’ Julia said. No wonder Daniel’s relationship with Christoph was complicated. Hilde’s distress would have turned him against his father, and maybe it had contributed to Daniel’s attitude towards Julia as well.

‘That’s why I needed the money, you see.’ Daniel pressed his fingers together and bit his lip. Clearly it was hard for him, admitting all this.

‘Daniel, if it’s too much …’

He shook his head. ‘I want to tell you. She self-medicated, you see, as a way of coping.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Papa wasn’t tight or anything, but she’d often run out of money. She didn’t want Papa to know. She bought the pills privately. When she didn’t have enough cash, I took the money for her.’

So that was it. The furtive, guilty look. It all made sense.

Julia remembered Hilde’s fierceness when it came to Daniel. ‘She was very protective of you. I remember her telling me after the recital that you deserved compassion. That she hadn’t told you the half of it, but that you knew enough to be wary of the past.’

Daniel glanced away. ‘I always had my suspicions about his unfaithfulness, but because he was away so much I never knew for sure.’

Julia thought of the recipe book. Hilde had been aware of its existence; she must have seen the dedication from Sylvie at the front. She wasn’t sure if Daniel had made any connection between Christoph’s supposed unfaithfulness and the recipe book, which Hilde had told him about when she was dying. Tentatively, she probed further. ‘Did Hilde ever tell you about anyone specific?’

Daniel glanced at her quizzically. ‘Why do you want to know?’

‘I just wondered if it was all conjecture or if she had someone in mind.’

‘It’s funny you should ask,’ Daniel said, ‘because when she was dying, and going on about that recipe book, she did tell me never to let him track down someone called Sylvie. Apparently, she was the woman who had written the recipes. Mama said …’

‘What?’ Julia leaned forward in the chair, not daring to breathe.

Daniel hesitated. ‘I should probably talk to Papa about it, when we’re back in Bonn and he’s feeling better.’ He rubbed his chin. ‘It’d be hypocritical for me to get upset about him telling you his memories and leaving me out, then doing the same thing.’

Julia sucked in her breath. Daniel clearly knew something.

He stood up. ‘There’s something I’d like to show you.’

‘It’s late …’

‘Please.’ He held up a room card. ‘I asked the receptionist if there was a piano you could try, and she said you could use the one in the rooftop suite as there’s no one staying there right now.’

‘I’m not sure.’ She did want to see the rooftop, the place where Christoph told her he had played for Sylvie, but seeing it with Daniel was another matter.

‘Please come. They call it the Belle étoile penthouse suite, and it has a grand piano.’

He clearly didn’t realize the rooftop was connected to Christoph’s past. Julia couldn’t miss the opportunity to see it and this gesture was Daniel’s way of making amends. ‘Okay, I’ll come,’ she said.

The hotel was quiet, the lights dimmed. They took the lift to the top floor, and arrived in a marble hallway. Daniel slotted the card in and the door opened on to an enormous room, with a glass table, white sofas and a Steinway grand piano on a white rug.

Averting her eyes from the piano, Julia followed Daniel out to the jasmine-scented terrace which wrapped around the entire suite. Paris lay below, a city of lights.

Sylvie and Christoph had stood here too, but back then the city had been shrouded in darkness.

‘Why don’t you try the piano?’ Daniel said softly. ‘It’d be a chance to see if all the cooking is helping your hands.’

Julia’s stomach knotted. ‘No, I couldn’t.’

But she glanced back into the living room and saw it there: the lid open, inviting her to touch the gleaming black and white keys.

‘Take all the time you need. I know this must be hard,’ Daniel said. ‘I’ll be out here if you need me.’ He moved along the balcony, tactfully leaving Julia alone.

The piano had always been a kindred spirit. It offered opportunities and possibilities for her imagination, her talent, her future. But Julia had become frightened of it. The only possibility she foresaw was that of failure.

Still, she couldn’t resist going in and sitting down on the stool. She rested her hands on the piano keys. There was no sound up here: the traffic, the crowds, even Daniel, were all lost to a silence that cried out to be filled with music.

She gave in. The opening bars of the ‘Moonlight Sonata’ came to life. She closed her eyes, the melody pulsing through her bloodstream. She saw Christoph in her mind’s eye, and somewhere, Sylvie, listening. She wanted to play for them.

Then her fingers tensed. Images from the London concert flashed before her eyes: the searing spotlight, the hushed audience, the notes mangled and damaged. The music crashed to a halt. She closed her eyes and fought back the tears. After a few moments, she heard Daniel’s footsteps behind her.

‘Are you okay?’ he said.

‘I’m sorry. I can’t play any more.’

‘Is that what happened in London?’

Julia nodded. She couldn’t bear to speak about it. Daniel seemed to understand. He came over, and she shuffled along the stool, making room for him to sit down.

‘Papa used to play that piece,’ he said. ‘I’d sneak in and listen.’

‘I thought you didn’t like the piano.’

His face was hidden in shadow, but Julia was conscious of every contour of his body, just a whisper away from hers.

‘The piano took Papa away from me.’

‘It can swallow you up,’ Julia said. ‘The practice, the performing. People get tired of sharing you with music until, one day, they’re gone, and it’s just you left with the piano.’

Daniel turned towards her in the darkness. ‘Is that what happened to you?’

Julia closed the lid. ‘In some ways, yes.’

‘What about Sebastian?’ His voice whispered in the shadows.

‘He’s my manager, Daniel, nothing more. I’ve told you that already. There’s nothing between us.’

‘But he’d like there to be?’

Julia shrugged. ‘He would. But I don’t, and I’ve made that very clear to him.’ She looked at Daniel. His eyes were deep pools. There was so much unsaid. She looked away. ‘To be honest, there hasn’t been anyone really, not since …’

Not since you . The unspoken words sank in. Her life had been all about the music for the last six years, and now the music had deserted her.

‘I’m sorry about what I said tonight,’ Julia said. ‘I should’ve known there was more to what I saw.’

‘I’m sorry too. I’ve worked hard since Mama died to find a rapport with Papa, but it’s hard. We were close when I was little, but then later, when I was eight or nine, after a trip here, to Paris, he seemed to retreat. I could never work out why. And then, with Mama and her worries about him being unfaithful, I found myself taking sides, and he became even more distant. I see you sitting with him, talking, and I wonder why he can’t talk to me like that. I suppose this trip has reminded me of the distance between us and how Paris seemed to play a part in that.’

Julia shifted her feet against the pedals. ‘We talk about the past, that’s all.’

‘I’ve never dared ask him about the war. I always assumed his reticence meant he’d done something shameful. When the German soldiers returned home, it was all about keeping quiet. There were no heroes’ tales like the British had.’

‘You could start to ask, like you did in the restaurant,’ Julia said. His eyes caught the moonlight, the shadows deepening his face.

A breeze blew in from the balcony and made the curtains swell.

‘Do you think he’d want to come with me to see the farm?’ Daniel said. ‘He was the one who told me about it. When I was little, he talked about this place called La Ferme Villiers-le-Bacle that he visited in Normandy during the war, and how beautiful it was. I think it reminded him of the farm at home.’

Julia held her breath. ‘What did you say the farm was called?’

‘La Ferme Villiers-le-Bacle.’

The farm to which Christoph had taken Sylvie: La Ferme V-L-B .

Julia’s heart raced. ‘I’m sure he’d like to go.’

‘And will you come too?’

She rubbed her arm. ‘Maybe you two should have some time together.’

Daniel shook his head. ‘I can’t imagine being on my own with him. We’d run out of things to say. We need you there too.’

Daniel’s car rattled along the road. The suburbs dwindled into countryside. Green, flat fields lay under a huge blue sky. Christoph sat in the front next to Daniel. He’d been full of enthusiasm for this trip, delighted that Daniel had suggested it. ‘What a coincidence that you remembered me talking about it,’ he said. ‘I would love to see it again.’ Now he peered out of the window, and Julia longed to ask him how he felt about returning.

Two hours later the car turned up a dusty track, passing along an avenue of trees and through an open gate towards a stone farmhouse, its windowpanes painted blue. At the sound of the engine, a middle-aged woman wearing knee-length denim shorts and a white blouse, and a stocky man in overalls came out to meet them.

‘ Bonjour ,’ the woman said. ‘I’m Monique, and this is my husband, Raymond. Enchanté .’

‘Hello, I’m Daniel. This is my father, Christoph, and Julia …’ He tailed off, clearly unsure of how to introduce her. Julia smiled and shook hands with them both.

‘Thank you for agreeing to see us,’ Daniel said.

‘It’s our pleasure. There’s nothing I like more than discussing the farm,’ Raymond said. ‘We don’t get many visitors out here.’

‘My father was here briefly during the war,’ Daniel said. ‘That’s how I’d heard about it.’

‘Yes, Monique said you’d mentioned that on the phone. How remarkable. What were you doing here?’ Raymond asked Christoph.

‘Oh,’ Christoph said, glancing furtively at Julia. She knew he wouldn’t want to mention anything about Sylvie. ‘I’m ashamed to say I was here on official business for the Department of Agriculture and Food Supply. I wasn’t proud of my role.’

Monique touched his arm. ‘It’s in the past now,’ she said. ‘Does it look very different to you?’

‘I think I remember the buildings,’ Christoph said. ‘I believe I stayed in that cottage over there. There was a millpond too, I think.’

Raymond nodded. ‘Why don’t we have lunch down there, Monique? I’ll show Daniel and his girlfriend around the farm. We’ll start with the crops and then visit the dairy.’

Julia’s cheeks flushed. ‘Oh, no, we’re not … I’m not his …’

Daniel’s face was bright red too. ‘Julia is my father’s friend; he was her mentor. Both my father and Julia are concert pianists.’

‘Ah,’ Raymond said, ‘my apologies. Then it’s just you and me for the tour.’

As Daniel and Raymond set off down the track, Monique gestured behind the old stone cottage that looked like it was used for storage. ‘Would you like to sit by the millpond while Julia and I make the lunch?’

‘Oh yes,’ Christoph said. ‘If you don’t mind.’

He stared at the cottage as they walked past. Monique led the way along a narrow path. It was fringed with nettles and foxgloves. The air grew cooler. Soon they came to a clearing where the millpond lay, reflecting the sky. Set back from the water was an area where the grass had been mown short. A wooden table and chairs stood in the shade. Christoph gazed at the pond. He looked back at Julia, his eyes moist.

‘It’s very peaceful here,’ he said.

‘Yes,’ Monique replied. ‘It’s one of my favourite spots. I used to swim here as a little girl.’

Christoph sat down on one of the chairs.

‘I need to pick some wild sorrel and finish the chicken,’ Monique said to Julia. ‘Would you like to help me?’

‘Will you be okay here, Christoph?’ Julia asked.

Christoph nodded and closed his eyes. ‘You go. I’ll be fine. I have my thoughts to keep me company.’

Monique took a different path back to the house, stopping to pull out some wild sorrel as she went. The air was pungent with the smell of the rich green leaves.

‘It’s a family recipe,’ Monique said, ‘from during the war. A chicken dish with wild sorrel. I’ve forgotten how we came to know it, but I’ve always thought it tasted delicious.’

Julia thought of the recipe in Sylvie’s book. Could it be the same one?

‘Did your grandparents tell you anything about that time?’ she asked.

They were back at the farmhouse now. The heavy oak door opened into a large kitchen with a low ceiling. Bunches of dried flowers and bay leaves hung from the eaves. A long wooden table stood on the terracotta-tiled floor.

Monique took the chicken from the fridge.

‘A little,’ she said. ‘There were stories about the Nazis intercepting contraband items that were dropped by the British in these parts. One brave young Frenchwoman was shot dead in the woods not far from here.’

Julia stared at Monique. Her heart nearly stopped beating. One brave young Frenchwoman. What if that woman was Sylvie? Surely Christoph would have remembered that. She felt a tremor of apprehension. How would Christoph cope if the memories had a tragic ending?

‘Please can you chop these shallots in half?’ Monique asked, handing Julia a bag of onions and a chopping board and knife.

Monique went to fetch lemon thyme from the kitchen garden. Julia tried to concentrate on peeling the onions. It couldn’t have been Sylvie who was shot, Julia reasoned – she had been a chef, and she had come to Normandy with a German lieutenant. But Sylvie had been interrogated before. Perhaps there was more to Sylvie than Christoph could recollect. As Monique chatted on while they prepared the lunch, Julia tried to shrug off her sense of unease.

An hour later, when lunch was ready, Monique and Julia carried the lunch things out to the millpond. Christoph woke blinking in the sunlight at the clatter of plates, cutlery and wineglasses. The sleep had done him good. He looked up with interest when Daniel and Raymond also arrived at the table, eager to hear what Daniel had discovered.

Monique served the chicken with heaps of green salad and new potatoes dripping with golden butter. Raymond uncorked the wine and they began to eat.

Julia could see by Daniel’s face that he’d had a good morning. He was brimming with ideas. Christoph asked him what he’d seen, and Daniel turned towards him as he ate, explaining about crop rotations and organic soil certification. Christoph listened intently. The effect of Christoph’s attention on Daniel was transformative. The frown that usually hovered between his eyes disappeared.

‘It’s like this chicken, Papa,’ Daniel said. ‘You can taste that it hasn’t been tampered with or constricted in its growth. It’s the same with organic milk. Raymond said I could do a course in organic farming to top up what I already know.’

Christoph leaned back in his chair and smiled at Daniel. ‘I’m sure you could. Would the farm in Effelsberg need a lot of work to turn the non-organic soil back to its natural state?’

‘There’s a bit of preparation needed,’ Daniel said. ‘Planting clover seems to be the key to rewilding the soil. The cows could then graze on natural ground.’

Raymond topped up the wine glasses. ‘ Je suis impressionné par lui ,’ he said, patting Daniel on the shoulder. ‘He’s remembered everything I told him. I used to teach agriculture at the Caen-Normandy University. It always stands out when a student is interested.’

‘Except, I’m thirty-two,’ Daniel said. ‘I hope I haven’t left it too late.’

‘ Ce n’est jamais trop tard . From what you’ve told me, travelling all over the world and working on farms has taught you a great deal. You can distance learn and start farming at the same time. I can tell you’ve got farming in your blood.’

‘Well, it never flourished like this in me. I never went back to farming after the war,’ Christoph said, glancing at his son. ‘This is Daniel’s own talent. I’m very proud of him.’

Julia held her breath at Christoph’s unexpected declaration. She knew how much it would mean to Daniel. Daniel dipped his head, clearly moved. ‘Thank you,’ he said.

Daniel glanced at Julia; the fullness of the moment was stored up in his eyes and shared briefly with her. For once, she knew exactly what he was thinking. It was like they were back at the beginning, eyes meeting by the bench in the train station, and all the old hurts were washed away.

Julia blushed and looked away at the millpond dappled by sunlight. What would have happened if Daniel’s mum hadn’t come in when she had that night? Julia swallowed. Daniel was right. There was something unfinished between them. But she wasn’t sure she dared risk her heart again.