Chapter 21
21
Lismay
1985
On Wednesday, Lismay drove to Nice airport as if she was driving to her own execution. Her knuckles on the steering wheel were as white as the frost on the lawns around the chateau. It had looked even more like a fairy tale when she woke that morning, everything glittering in the pale winter sunshine. The fountain trickled merrily as she got into the car. She resented it, for it seemed to taunt her. It had been Piers’s pet project, and she’d been determined to make it happen for him in time for Christmas, but when she looked at it she felt angry, not pleased. For a moment she wished it had been cold enough for the water to be frozen solid, just like she was inside.
She paced up and down as she waited for Piers at the arrivals gate. She wasn’t sure what she was going to say. Usually she was excited about seeing him, her heart lifting as she saw him appear through the double doors, and anyone watching would have been touched by their reunion as she flung her arms around his neck and he kissed the top of her head. There would be no arm flinging today.
There he was. In his father’s old British Warm overcoat, navy cords and a red jumper, a cravat tucked into the neck. The archetypal Englishman abroad, bumbling along with his suitcase, scanning the waiting crowd for her face. She hid behind a tall man, overwhelmed with emotion. It wasn’t his fault, she reminded herself. None of it was anyone’s fault. She squeezed her fists tight, took in a deep breath and stepped towards the barrier, seeing his face light up as he spotted her.
He dropped his suitcase and pulled her to him. ‘There you are! I thought you weren’t here for a minute.’
All she could do was nod. Yes, he was hugging her now, here, where it was safe and nothing more could be expected of him. But what would happen when they got home? That impenetrable barrier would come down.
‘Are you all right?’ he asked. ‘Are you cross because I’m late?’
‘Of course not.’
‘Only there wasn’t much I could do. We were trying to tie down this contract, and it means I don’t have to go back till the second week in January. Three lovely weeks!’
‘Three weeks!’
‘God, it’s good to see you.’
‘You too.’ She relented and gave him a perfunctory hug around his middle. ‘Let’s get a trolley for your case.’
She walked off to find one, leaving him trailing in her wake, slightly bewildered by her froideur . She felt guilty, for how was he to know how she had been feeling?
‘I’ll drive,’ she said, as they eventually made it to the car. ‘I expect you’re exhausted.’
‘I am a bit bushed. We were up till midnight putting in the finishing touches and I didn’t sleep, I was so excited about seeing you.’ He smiled at her over the roof of the car. ‘It’s bloody freezing here. Much colder than London.’
‘There was a frost this morning.’
Frost. She was radiating bloody frost. She slipped into the driving seat, knowing she couldn’t keep this up, that it was unfair, but she knew if she pretended that everything was fine and behaved like her usual self, they would be stuck forever and she couldn’t bear the thought of their marriage becoming so far away from what it had been. They’d always had such fun, and been such a great team, and adored each other, and neither of them had changed, not really. It was simply that something had come between them, after their horrid news. All she wanted was for them to be as they had been. But how should she tell him?
Maybe after dinner, after a glass of Dutch courage. That’s when she’d do it. She indicated left and pulled out onto the main road from Nice to Aix-en-Provence, putting her foot down. The sky was powder-blue, and the palm trees stood out against the glittering sea. On any other day, she would feel uplifted, but today she was filled with dread. She could smell the familiarity of Piers’s Eau Sauvage and it made her want to cry.
‘Hey,’ he said, valiantly trying to inject some levity into the atmosphere he’d detected in the car. ‘I thought we could go skiing for a few days before I go back. What do you think?’
On impulse, Lismay swerved the car onto the side of the road and slammed on the brakes.
‘What are you doing?’ Piers was alarmed. ‘You can’t stop here.’
‘You can’t go back,’ she said. ‘If you do, something terrible is going to happen.’
‘What?’ He looked utterly baffled. ‘I can’t not go back.’
‘I don’t trust myself.’ She was staring straight ahead.
‘Don’t trust yourself to do what?’
‘Not to do something.’
‘Lismay.’ He turned her chin so she was facing him. ‘Darling. What is it? You’ve been so odd ever since I got here.’
There were so many thoughts, so many words, so many fears jumbling her mind, she couldn’t speak at first. Her throat tightened. She had to say something. Something that would shock him into realisation.
‘I nearly kissed someone,’ she said eventually. ‘And if I had, I’d have done more. I didn’t. But I wanted to. So, so much.’
She saw the bewilderment in his eyes as his face crumpled. His dear, lovely face, and she felt guilty for what she’d told him. But wasn’t it better than the alternative? She had to explain how she was feeling. Everything depended upon it. Her happiness. Their happiness. Their future.
‘Who?’ he said.
‘Oh,’ she said, ‘the chef from the cookery school. And it wasn’t his fault. It could have been anyone.’
‘Anyone?’ Piers sounded appalled.
‘Yes. Anyone. Because I can’t bear it. You not …’ She tried to find the right words. ‘You not touching me.’
He didn’t speak for a while, and then he just said, ‘Oh’ and looked down, like a very small boy who’d been caught doing something wrong and knew he couldn’t talk his way out of it.
‘It makes me feel as if you don’t love me and I know you do but I’m scared. I don’t want to be made to feel the way I felt. I don’t want to look at another man and wonder what he’d be like in bed.’
Piers clapped his hands over his ears and she pulled away the hand nearest to her so he had to listen.
‘The only man I want to go to bed with is you. But you’ve made it clear you’re not interested. And I’m not ready for a cold, dead marriage. I’m not ready for people to look at us and think what a wonderful life we have at the chateau, and what a terrific couple we are, when it’s all a facade. I’m tired of lying there wondering if you’ll ever touch me again. Praying that this might be the night—’
‘Stop.’
She turned, and saw there were tears in his eyes. He was trembling. Had she gone too far? Had she been cruel? No. She’d simply spoken the truth, to save them from something much worse.
‘ I’m scared.’ When he spoke, his voice was low. ‘I’m scared, Lismay. I’m scared that I’m broken. I’m scared that if I try to …’ He shrugged, not sure how to articulate what he was trying to describe. ‘That if we … that I’ll just … that I won’t be able to.’ He hung his head. ‘It’s all my fault. I’m useless. And if you do want to … find someone else, who can give you what you need, I won’t blame you. But tell me now.’
He was overwhelmed with mortification. Lismay’s heart melted. All she wanted to do was reassure him.
‘Piers,’ she said, ‘I don’t want someone else. I want you. But I want all of you. I want what we always had. You’re not broken. I’m sure of it.’ She put her hand on his cheek, turning his face to hers. ‘I just want to be us again. You and me together, how we used to be. What’s happened doesn’t matter. We can go back to who we were. I love you as much as I always have. Please come back to me.’
She leaned in to kiss him. He was uncertain to begin with, but she was gentle at first, kissing the corner of his mouth, then working her way in until their lips met, and gradually he relaxed until they were kissing properly, their arms wrapping round each other, pulling each other closer and closer. It was as passionate as if it was the very first time, as if they were discovering each other. Eventually they broke away, breathless, and Piers sat back in his seat, looking slightly shell-shocked.
‘Gosh,’ he said, but he was smiling. ‘Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m not broken. I’ve found it so difficult. I was so scared you wanted something else. That you might leave.’
‘I don’t want anything or anyone else. I want us.’
He nodded towards the road. ‘Shall we … um … shall we hurry up and get home?’
They both laughed, shakily, but the relief in the car was palpable. Lismay started the car engine, astonished that she’d found the courage to voice her feelings. Perhaps it was all going to be all right? As all right as it could ever be. She put her foot down and the car surged forwards, eating up the miles. After a while, Piers fell asleep, but she didn’t mind. It left her the rest of the journey to think. She didn’t have a guilty conscience about what had happened – or not happened – with Cyrille. At the end of the day, he had been the catalyst that had given her the courage to speak out. And he had been smart enough, and gentlemanly enough, to know what she needed. She would always be grateful to him for that. For being a good person, and for stepping away from the glittery, shiny pull of temptation.
Her heart soared as they reached the gates of the chateau. They had been re-painted and re-hung since Piers had last been here. She tapped him on the arm.
‘Hey.’
He started awake, then smiled as he saw the gates. ‘We’re back. That was quick.’
‘You’ve been asleep for over an hour.’
‘Have I? Sorry. Not very good company.’
‘Look.’ She pointed as they made their way up the drive.
There, in front of them, was the fountain, in full flow. Behind them, the chateau glowed in the afternoon sunshine, the cypress tree like a sentry towering over it. Lismay had been working hard on the front of the house. She’d cleared all the weeds, and put two large lead planters with olive trees either side of the bottom of the steps. It was starting to look as if their dream was going to come true.
‘It’s very hard to know,’ said Piers softly. ‘If we’re lucky or unlucky. Isn’t it?’
It was lovely, just the two of them, settling in for the evening as the sun dipped below the trees. Piers brought in the logs and lit the fire in the salon . Lismay had made onion soup, and she put it into the oven with chunks of baguette and grated Gruyère on top, then ran upstairs to change. She’d hand-washed the Janet Reger and there it was in her drawer. She smiled as she slipped it on, feeling much more confident this time, then found her favourite dress, a red silk slip she’d bought in Jigsaw. It was far too cold for it but she didn’t care.
She floated back downstairs. She felt as if she was walking on air, her heart lighter than it had been for a long time. Piers was here, Christmas was on its way, the chateau was really starting to feel like home. He was at the kitchen table, his glasses on, leafing through some paperwork, but he pushed it to one side as soon as he saw her.
‘Oh,’ he said, startled by her appearance. ‘Are we dressing for dinner?’
‘You don’t need to,’ she said. ‘I just felt like it.’
He was gazing at her, completely mesmerised. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes and she realised it was because he had tears in them.
‘Oh Piers,’ she said, rushing to him. ‘What is it?’
‘I can’t believe I came so close to losing you,’ he said.
‘No. No, you didn’t. Not really.’
‘You’re so incredible,’ he said. ‘Everything you’ve done here, without me. I’d never have believed this place could undergo such a transformation, but you’ve made it happen. And I haven’t really helped at all.’
‘You have. You’ve been working. Just as hard as me.’
She slid onto his lap, winding her arms around his neck.
‘Oh!’ he said. ‘Hello.’
Before she knew it, they were kissing again. She felt his warm hands through the silk of her dress, sliding over her hips, pushing up the fabric until he touched her bare skin. His lips were on her neck, making her shiver with delight as she unbuttoned his shirt. It felt familiar but thrilling, heat building up inside them both until it became so urgent that Lismay peeled off her dress, pushing Piers’s paperwork to the floor and lying back on the kitchen table.
Minutes later she sat up, tousled and rumpled and starry-eyed.
‘Shit,’ she said. ‘The soup.’
Piers ran to the oven and opened it. The topping had burnt to a crisp.
‘I think it’s had it,’ he said.
Lismay couldn’t stop laughing at the sight of him stark naked with oven gloves on, holding out the offending tureen. Soon he joined in, and before long they were wiping away tears of mirth.
‘I guess that was one way of christening the kitchen.’
Lismay gave a contented sigh. ‘We’ll have to make do with leftover b?che de Noel and the rest of the cheese for supper,’ she said, putting her dress back on.
‘Sounds absolutely perfect,’ said Piers, scooping up his clothes. ‘I think I might put my pyjamas straight on. Not much point in getting dressed again.’
She watched him pootle off and went to fetch the b?che de Noel from the pantry. It was a bit soggy but with a bit of cream poured over, it would do just fine. She felt quite content as she laid the table. She must ask Piers about asking all the workmen in for a drink on their last day – they’d all been so brilliant and she didn’t know how she’d manage without them. Maybe she’d do them something English – sausage rolls and mince pies. That would tickle them. And they really should go and buy a Christmas tree. They might still be upside down but the hall was crying out for one …
She paused for a moment. If this was as good as it got, life was going to be OK. She shuddered to think that only a few days ago she was in this very kitchen, eying Cyrille hungrily and contemplating desperate measures. She looked up to see Piers in the doorway.
‘I’ve just spoken to Alistair,’ he said. ‘I wanted to hand in my notice but he doesn’t want to lose me. So we’ve agreed I’m going to do three weeks here and one week in London. Yes, it’ll mean a bit less money for now, but we’ll be able to get up and running more quickly and then we can sell the house. How does that sound?’