The Paris Affair

48 Julia

48

Julia

September, 2002 – Bonn

For two days, after trying the Filets de Maquereaux à la Flamande, Christoph stayed in his room, drifting in and out of sleep. He seemed to have deteriorated. The nurse who came daily to check on him told Julia these kinds of setbacks were normal at this stage. Daniel and Julia took turns sleeping in the chair, keeping watch, while the other got some rest and took care of the house. We’re like ships passing in the night, Julia thought. She blamed herself for cooking the recipe, wishing they’d heeded the warning that Sylvie had written.

On the third morning after Christoph had got worse, Julia awoke, stiff and aching.

‘Christoph,’ she whispered. ‘Are you awake?’

‘ Ja .’ His voice was weak.

‘You seemed okay a few days ago, but now …’

Christoph pushed the covers down a little. ‘Has it been that long?’ His voice sounded a little stronger.

‘Yes,’ Julia said gently. ‘I made the filets de maquereaux à la flamande from the recipe book and the next day you didn’t get up.’

‘I thought I’d been asleep. It was like a dream …’

Julia drew closer. ‘You’ve slept a lot. Perhaps that’s what you needed.’

Christoph gripped her hand. ‘But it was more than a dream,’ he said.

‘What do you mean? Did you dream about Sylvie?’

‘It felt real. So did the feeling afterwards. A deep sadness: like cold seeping into my bones. I’m just so tired, Julia.’

‘Tell me about the dream. It might help.’

Christoph told her fragments: the letter, Sylvie’s death, marrying Hilde and then finding and losing Sylvie in Rome. His voice was heavy as he spoke, his words a confused jumble of recollections that he was unable to grasp.

‘I found out she was alive, but there was nothing I could do. After ten years of marriage, Hilde was desperate to have children. When we got back from Rome, we spent another eight years trying. Hilde accused me of not being committed, but I was. It’s just hard to love someone when you’ve already given your heart to someone else.’

‘And then Daniel came along,’ Julia said.

At the sound of his son’s name, a smile lit up Christoph’s face. ‘A child, after all that time. He was a gift out of all the heartache. His birth was so special.’ He glanced at Julia and smiled. ‘Do you know, I’ve woken up with a yearning for fresh lemonade and lavender. It’s strange, but I can almost taste it in my mouth.’

‘Lavender?’ Julia said.

‘Look in Sylvie’s book.’

‘I’m not sure that’s a good idea. Remember last time …’

‘Please, Julia,’ he said. ‘Maybe Daniel will join us for some.’

Julia sighed. ‘I’ll go and see if there’s a recipe.’

She took Sylvie’s book down from the shelf. There was a recipe for lemonade and lavender. It must be a good sign that Christoph had remembered it. Julia read the ingredients. It looked straightforward enough to make.

Julia took a pair of scissors from the drawer and went to cut some lavender from the garden. She rounded the hedge and there, digging up the old vegetable patch, was Daniel.

Since returning from Paris, her dreams had been laced with memories of that day in the apartment. His touch, his kisses, the delicious ache that had spread through her. Yet, here in Bonn, they were both more hesitant.

He glanced over at her. His eyes were green like the leaves, a smudge of mud on his cheek.

Julia nodded towards the flowerbed. ‘I just need a few sprigs of lavender.’

He stuck the spade in the ground. ‘How come?’

‘Some more of Christoph’s memories have started to come back,’ she said. ‘He told me about getting the letter from the private investigator, the one your mother told you about. He only married Hilde once he’d heard that Sylvie was dead and had every intention of making things work. But then, on their tenth wedding anniversary in Rome, he stumbled across Sylvie, completely out of the blue.’

‘But that would have been in the early 1960s,’ Daniel said, frowning. ‘That means the affair started even before I was born.’

‘No, that’s just it,’ Julia said, before he could jump to the wrong conclusion. ‘Nothing happened. He stayed with Hilde, he had no idea of Sylvie’s whereabouts after that chance encounter, and then you were born. He described it as a gift.’

Daniel’s mouth tightened. ‘Did he? Then why did he ruin my childhood by meeting her again later and having an affair?’

Julia shook her head; it was time to give Daniel a firm sense of perspective. He needed to either forgive Christoph and work it out or accept what might have happened. The childish hurt that he seemed unable to shake off needed to be out in the open and resolved.

‘Daniel, you’re so hasty to judge him. You haven’t got any proof of an affair,’ she said. ‘You’ve only seen one side to this story – your mother’s – and I am sorry for what happened to her, but you need to hear Christoph’s side too. You can’t keep judging him blindly.’

The air between them quivered with her words. For a moment, she thought he was going to argue back, but his shoulders dropped and he sat down on the bench, lost in thought.

‘Maybe you’re right,’ Daniel said at last, looking up at Julia. ‘I need to stop looking for reasons not to mend my relationship with Papa, because, deep down, that’s what I really want to happen.’

Julia sat next to him, taking his hand. ‘I know you do.’

‘I guess talking to my father is the only way to accept things. If only he was able to remember it all and tell me.’

Julia sighed. ‘He may not ever remember it all. But one thing is clear, his abiding love for you. That’s what you must focus on.’

Daniel nodded. ‘I’ll try.’

Julia squeezed his hand. ‘You need to do more than try,’ she said. ‘These past few weeks I’ve seen in you the man I remember from the train station, when I had no idea who you were. Kind, enthusiastic, understanding, thoughtful. That’s the man I want to see more of. It’s time to put the man who ruined the recital behind you. The one who gets angry and hurt and runs away from sorting things out. You’re not him any more.’

Daniel clasped her hand. ‘I’m not. Thank you for reminding me,’ he said, his eyes clear as he gazed at Julia. ‘I hope I can find a way to prove it to you both.’