Four
D aniel was still there when Arielle went back to her stand. ‘Mobile phones can be such a curse,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘They make people forget their manners.’
In the past year, since he’d been coming regularly to the market to buy flowers, Arielle had come to know and like Daniel Auban. He was a kind man, courteous, reserved, and somewhat old-fashioned though he didn’t look much older than her. He was also a good listener, and never pushed himself forward. In fact, he seldom expressed himself directly.
‘She didn’t mean to be rude,’ she said. ‘She was just unhappy.’
He looked at her. How do you know that? was written in his eyes, but he didn’t voice it, as she knew he wouldn’t. Instead, he said tentatively, ‘I wonder what you would have suggested, for her aunt.’
Arielle smiled, and turning to her display, she picked out first one flower, then another, and another, until she held seven stems. ‘Her aunt travelled the world, so I would pick seven types of flowers to represent the seven seas and seven continents,’ she said. ‘But each of them should mean something too, something relevant to the receiver and the giver.’ She pointed to each flower in turn. ‘Pink carnation, to symbolise family love. Lily of the valley, for joy. Blue cornflower, for courage. White peony, for thankfulness. Red poppy, to remind us to savour each moment in the fragility of life. White tulip, for new departures. And cosmos, because its name means world.’
He shook his head. ‘That is extraordinary. Truly. I …’ He hesitated, just as a large group of chattering tourists appeared, claiming Arielle’s attention. Daniel lifted a hand in farewell and was gone. She was sorry he had decided to leave but didn’t take offence because that was his way. He was uncomfortable around crowds—except, she had heard, at the Cluny Museum, where he worked as a botanical historian specialising in the Middle Ages.
After she’d dealt with the gaggle of tourists, Arielle put the flowers she’d shown Daniel in the vase full of water that she always kept nearby. It was a very busy day in the flower market, and thankfully that meant Jacques Vella wouldn’t come and cast a critical eye over her display. He never did it when customers were about. And certainly not when Monsieur Renan was there. In fact, Vella was charm itself with Arielle’s boss. This was despite the fact it was Monsieur Renan who had rejected his offer last year to buy the stall, not Arielle. Maybe he thought he would win Arielle’s boss over. There was no chance of that, but unfortunately, there was one other thing the man was, other than unpleasant. And that was persistent.
Glancing at the vase of flowers, Arielle’s thoughts turned again to the woman she’d seen that morning. With her well-cut short dark hair, subtly made-up face and elegant clothes, she’d looked the epitome of the chic, confident Parisian, but Arielle had seen the shadow in her eyes and known something was wrong. She wished that the woman had stayed long enough to at least see the flowers. Their simple beauty would have given her heart a moment’s lift, and those moments counted. Well! Now the flowers will come home with me , she thought, and I’ll give them to Pauline . Because, aside from the world travel, everything else about the blooms’ meanings could be applied to her sister too.
A few hours later, she’d just left work with the flowers but thankfully without a parting shot from Vella, when a text from Pauline pinged on her mobile. Can you pick up something nice from the traiteur on the way home? Also a good Bordeaux .
Arielle smiled. Sure. What are we celebrating?
If only! We have unexpected visitors and the stew I’ve made for us won’t make the grade ?
Arielle frowned down at her phone. Who’s there?
The Grandiers .
Arielle felt her stomach clench. Ludo’s parents! They hadn’t visited in months. The last time had been a quick visit two days before Christmas, when they’d dropped off presents for the children. Arielle never felt comfortable around her in-laws. They didn’t understand why their son had chosen her as his wife. She was an orphan, from a much more modest background than the Grandiers, and she didn’t have a university degree or even an ambition to acquire one. She didn’t have une bonne situation —meaning a well-paying, prestigious job. Being a florist certainly didn’t cut it with Thierry and Virginie Grandier. Plus her accent was too southern for their liking. And how scandalous that she hadn’t even taken on her husband’s name after marriage!
None of this was said overtly. It was communicated through patronising attitudes and snide remarks that stung Arielle, but she hated confrontation and so didn’t challenge them. Besides, she wanted to get on with her beloved Ludo’s parents. Ludo had said airily she should ignore their jibes as they treated everyone like that, even him. It was part of the reason why he’d taken so many risks to create a showy fa?ade about their life that would mute his parents’ criticisms and chime with their vision of achievement. But now Ludo was gone, Arielle was of even less consequence to her in-laws, although the children, being blood, did merit some attention. Not much, mind you.
So why were they here today? They lived two hours away, in a superb old house in the Champagne countryside, and rarely ventured to Paris, a city Virginie especially decried as ‘not being what it used to be’. Whatever that meant.
Arielle decided to call her sister. ‘What’s happening, Pauline?’
‘Hang on,’ Pauline whispered, then Arielle heard her say, ‘Sorry, I have to take this, be back soon.’ Then Pauline came back on, saying, ‘I’m in the kitchen now, it’s okay to talk.’
‘Did they say why they were here?’ Arielle asked, as she hurriedly made her way towards a traiteur that she knew would still be open.
‘They said they’d come to see you and the children, and seemed put out that you weren’t here. They’re talking to the children while they wait for you.’
Arielle tried and failed to see the Grandiers making conversation with two six-year-olds.
Pauline clearly had the same thought. ‘ Pauvres gamins ,’ she said with feeling. Poor kids. Dropping her voice a little, she went on, ‘I had to invite them for dinner, expecting they’d refuse as usual, but to my horror they said yes.’
‘It’s okay.’ Arielle looked at the appetising window display in front of her. Traiteurs offer a range of high-quality pre-cooked dishes, ready to reheat at home. They had existed since the nineteenth century, and although frozen meals and takeaway places had made inroads into their trade, classic traiteurs still operated. ‘We’ll cope. I’ll bring some nice things home.’
‘And I’ll feed the kids now, then they can escape to their room,’ Pauline said.
‘Good idea. I’ll see you soon.’
A few minutes later, Arielle left the shop with a delectable cargo in a carrier bag: tiny asparagus tarts and a salmon tartare with capers for entrees, quail fillets with red-currant confit and seasonal vegetables for a main, and a pistachio and white chocolate mousse, accompanied by delicate lacy biscuits, for dessert. Plus we have cheese and bread at home and I can whip up a salad too , Arielle thought cheerfully. She’d gone a little overboard with the food, but never mind. Thierry and Virginie were just an excuse, this would be a treat for Pauline and herself. And the children would love the dessert!
But when she arrived at the apartment, hands full with the meal, a bottle of good Bordeaux and the flowers, Arielle’s cheerful mood began to evaporate. Pauline’s expression was strained. And the children hadn’t come out to greet her, which was unusual.
‘They’re in their room still,’ Pauline said, guessing Arielle’s thoughts and taking the parcels from her.
The children’s room was just down the hall, away from the living room where the Grandiers were installed. Louis and Alice were lying on Alice’s bed, fair heads bent over a large picture book. It was one of the Babar books that they’d loved when they were younger. But last year, when they started school, the twins had declared that the Babar books were too babyish and they had been banished to an upper shelf. Yet here they were now, poring over one. Was it for comfort?
As soon as they saw her, their faces lit up. ‘Maman!’ they cried, scrambling off the bed to throw themselves at her.
‘Hello, my darlings,’ she said, hugging them. ‘I am so glad to see you.’
‘We are too,’ said Louis, his eyes shining. ‘We missed you,’ said Alice, nestling deeper.
‘How was school today?’
‘Good,’ they chorused. It was sincere. They really liked their school. That was one thing Arielle didn’t have to worry about.
‘You know what?’ she said. ‘I’ve brought us some really tasty dessert, we can have it soon together and—’
‘We don’t want to go with Grand-maman and Grand-papa,’ Alice interrupted, with a catch in her voice, while Louis nodded. The rather old-fashioned terms of Grand-maman and Grand-papa were what the Grandiers insisted on being called by the twins.
‘Go where?’ Arielle said uneasily. But the twins didn’t answer, so she kissed each of them on the forehead, told them she’d be back soon, and headed to the living room, where Thierry and Virginie were sipping on glasses of Cinzano and picking at a bowl of nuts.
‘Ah, Arielle, bonsoir ,’ Thierry said, rising and pecking her on the cheek.
‘ Bonsoir . Are you in Paris long?’ she asked, as Virginie offered her own cheek.
‘Just overnight. We have booked a very nice hotel in the third,’ Virginie said with a smug little smile. ‘Now, Arielle, there’s a long weekend coming up and we thought the children might like to come and stay with us for it. Oh, and you too,’ she added as an afterthought, ‘if you can spare the time off work.’ She made the words sound like disapproval, but that was hardly unusual.
What was unusual was her invitation. Arielle had rarely been invited to the Grandiers’ when Ludo was alive, and since his death, never. And there was a look in Virginie’s eyes that troubled her. Skin prickling with unease, she said politely, ‘That’s very kind, but we already have plans to—’
At that moment, Pauline came into the room. ‘Dinner is ready,’ she said. ‘Please come to the table.’ But neither Arielle nor the Grandiers responded. Instead, Virginie said with a tight smile, ‘Then please consider changing your plans. It would give us pleasure.’
Could it be true that they wanted to spend time with her and the children? ‘Thank you,’ Arielle said, feeling shaken. ‘I will let you know.’
‘That’s fine,’ said Thierry quickly.
But Virginie ignored him and said, with a set expression, ‘It would also be a good occasion for the children to get used to …’ Thierry shot her a warning look, but too late.
Arielle’s unease was full-blown now. ‘Get used to what?’ she asked sharply.
Virginie drew herself up. ‘The children are nearly seven. And we think it’s time to think about their future. Their schooling.’
It was Pauline who interjected this time. ‘What about their schooling? They are doing perfectly well.’
Virginie shot her a quelling look. ‘We know paying for a good school would be difficult for you, in the circumstances,’ she said to Arielle, ‘so we are prepared to help. We can pay in full, if necessary, isn’t that right, Thierry?’
Thierry nodded weakly. ‘That is so.’
Arielle frowned. ‘That’s a very generous offer, but there’s no need to—’
‘We also think the children would benefit with more space than what they have here,’ Virginie interrupted. ‘And there’s a really good school close to us. So this is what we propose: the children are enrolled there, and they live with us during the school year. We’ll pay for everything.’
Pauline gasped, but Arielle was speechless.
‘Or you could also come and live with us,’ Thierry said, glancing at his wife, with a trace of anxiety in his voice. ‘You see, we are in a position to offer much, and we truly want the best for our grandchildren. And you too, Arielle,’ he added, hurriedly.
Everyone looked at Arielle.
She was trying to control the rage rising in her throat, but managed to say, ‘No.’
‘But why not?’ Virginie replied sharply. ‘You surely can’t be satisfied with …’ she waved contemptuously around the room. ‘This limited life, with limited prospects for the children.’
‘Please stop,’ Arielle ground out.
‘Think about it,’ Thierry said. ‘No need to make a decision now, is there?’
Arielle wanted to scream, to throw everything in their smug faces—not only this outrageous proposal, but all the put-downs she’d endured, their past indifference towards the children, the way their expectations had twisted Ludo, all of it. But she controlled herself enough to say, in a voice that was unnaturally calm, ‘I’m sorry, but I think it’s best you leave now.’
Virginie’s eyes flashed. Her hands shook. ‘Remember, Arielle,’ she hissed, ‘they are our son’s children as well as yours, and we have a perfect right to—’
She was interrupted by her husband, who gently took her by the arm, saying, ‘Come on, my dear. We can talk another time when everyone’s calmer.’ He looked at Arielle and Pauline. ‘Goodbye, then.’
Pauline nodded stiffly and escorted them to the door, but Arielle stayed where she was, her ears still ringing with what the Grandiers had said. Even given their relentless self-absorption, how could they have imagined she might agree to such a proposal? If Ludo had been alive, would they have dared to try? But maybe, she thought bleakly, they would have, and maybe he’d have given in to them. She clenched her fists. She certainly wouldn’t let it happen. Never!
Pauline returned and hugged her. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Not really,’ whispered Arielle. Then a thought struck her and she stared at her sister. ‘But I’ve just realised, the children—oh my God, the children thought they were going to be sent away!’
She hurried to the twins’ room, flinging open the door. ‘Grand-maman and Grand-papa are gone,’ she said, and the immediate rush of relief she saw in their beloved faces pierced her heart. Hugging them tightly, she asked, trying to sound cheerful, ‘Are you still hungry?’ When they nodded, she went on, ‘That’s good, because Tati Pauline and I have so much to eat that we really need a couple of hungry children to help us—especially with a very delicious dessert!’