Chapter 16
HAL
Of course, idiot man that I am, I rush forward as soon as Sarah starts to cry. But she pushes me away. ‘Just leave it,’ she says.
‘Honestly, Louis didn’t really confide in me,’ I say, trying to mitigate things. ‘It was just a case of normal cold feet, I think. He didn’t want to worry you. That’s all.’
‘Worry me about what?’
I shake my head. Because I promised I wouldn’t tell her. ‘It was just a chat, really. I’ve made it seem more than it was.’
But Sarah has closed up. Wiping the tears from her face as if annoyed at the water coming from her ducts, she straightens and faces me. And suddenly she’s no longer the girl I used to know, but someone older, colder, sterner. Terrifying.
‘It’s fine,’ she tells me coldly. ‘Don’t worry. It’s your van, your trip. And Louis is your son. There’s nothing to apologise for.’
‘But I—’
She holds up a hand. ‘I need to get some work done, then we’ll get on the road. I’m sure Sébastien will find a way to manage in the back. It’s fine.’
In all honesty, I preferred it when it wasn’t fine. It feels a little as if the Sarah I’ve known has been replaced. But the look she gives me when I open my mouth to protest, to offer to uninvite Sébastien, silences me.
‘OK,’ I tell her.
She opens her laptop and begins typing furiously, and an insecure part of me longs to know what she’s doing. Is she really working, or just telling her friends just how useless I am?
To keep my mind off it, I open my own laptop.
I check my emails, but it appears that Todd has handled everything.
There’s a call scheduled for tomorrow, but other than that I have a clean slate.
I try to console myself that at least I’m doing OK in one area of my life.
Judging by the smoke practically flying off Sarah’s fingers as she types, I’m not getting such a good report from her.
Two hours later we’re on the road. Rather than simply reclining on the bed, or sitting on the floor of Betty’s living area, Sébastien has assumed a kneeling position behind our front seat, his arms spread proprietorially along the back of Betty’s black leather.
His head rests in the middle, between our two, and for a moment I wonder if this is what it’s like to have a dog.
A faithful, cute, but annoying mutt sticking its head over the front seat and wanting to be included. Maybe I should throw him a treat?
‘So, how long to the next campsite?’ he asks in his heavily accented English.
‘Three hours.’
He nods. ‘Wonderful.’ He rests his chin on the back of the seat, clearly in it for the long haul. ‘And you mention river swimming, in your itinerary?’
How has he got hold of that? ‘Er, yeah,’ I tell him.
‘Wonderful. There is nothing I like more than to be at one with nature,’ he says. ‘Sarah, ma chérie, don’t you agree?’
Sarah gives him a non-committal shrug and grimace.
Sébastien is either terrible at reading the mood or determined to make things worse. ‘Oui, I thought so. Perhaps even you, with your leg, can spend a moment in the water?’ He pauses, then turns slightly to me. ‘I assume you swim naked.’
‘No!’ the sharpness of my tone makes him jump a little, but he soon regains his composure.
‘But you must, Hal! It is how nature intended.’
‘Nature might. But I’m sure onlookers would have a different idea.’
Sébastien shakes his head, his hair slightly brushing against my cheek. It smells a little of Sarah’s shampoo and I hope she hasn’t noticed this. I’m already well and truly in the doghouse.
Half an hour later, he seems to settle into more of a silence, probably driven there by the fact that Sarah and I give him very little back.
I’m not sure whether it’s Sarah’s reaction to Sébastien that’s causing it, or whether getting to know Sébastien a little more has changed my opinion of him.
But I feel more and more on Sarah’s side as the kilometres tick on.
I hate myself for inviting this man onto our trip. What a twat.
Sébastien’s head suddenly appears again above the front seat and I almost swerve into an oncoming cyclist. ‘So, you guys, you have a child together, n’est-ce pas?’
‘Yes,’ we say, as sullen as the teenagers we used to be.
‘Then I don’t understand why you are not together!’ He looks from one of us to the other. ‘Sarah, you are beautiful, truly.’ He pauses, ostensibly to receive a gushing thank you which isn’t forthcoming, then continues. ‘And Hal, you seem like a nice guy. And you are rich, non?’
‘Oh, I wouldn’t say…’
‘Oh, come on. You own a technology company. This is the stuff of great wealth.’
‘I do OK.’ I try to sound nonchalant, but almost wish Sébastien would push me a little more on this.
I always get the impression that Sarah thinks I live on a shoestring, like some sort of eternal student.
I realise that my house, my lifestyle, probably don’t reflect this, but I’m well into the six figures when it comes to earnings.
‘Well, then,’ he says, raising his hands briefly in the air as if this were all that was needed for a relationship. Looks and money. Which I suppose is sometimes true. ‘I don’t understand.’
We let this settle. I sense that both Sarah and I are hoping that if we don’t respond, the conversation might just die away. For a moment, I think this has worked. Then: ‘I mean, Sarah,’ he says, leaning forward, ‘do you not find Hal attractive?’
‘Sébastien!’ I say, then, ‘Don’t answer that,’ to Sarah.
‘And Hal, surely you can see that Sarah is beautiful.’
I break my own rule and find myself replying. ‘Well, yeah, of course.’
‘And you like each other?’
‘Sébastien! Drop it!’ I tell him, just as Sarah says, ‘Yes.’
‘Oh.’ She likes me? I’m not crazy enough to think that the woman has any romantic feelings for me. But to know that she doesn’t actually hate me, or simply tolerate me, but likes me as a person, is a real boost. Which shows how pathetically needy I am, I guess.
‘Of course I like her!’ I look at Sarah, but she’s gazing out of the window, probably wishing she could simply leap out of the van and disappear over the distant mountains now visible on the horizon.
‘Well then, I do not understand.’ Sébastien, it seems, is completely flummoxed.
‘But you must know there’s more to it than that,’ I say, for some reason unable to drop the subject now he’s started to explore it and, if I’m honest, hoping Sarah might say something else nice about me.
‘I mean, Sarah’s a serious person. She’s organised.
Capable. I’m… I mean, I do great in a business sense, but I’m not like her.
I’m too… I suppose I’m a bit too laid back.
Take things as they come. If we were together, we’d drive each other mad. ’
‘Or perhaps you would be perfectly paired,’ Sébastien says. ‘Like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, non? Because two pieces exactly the same, they do not fit together. But if one gives a little and the other reaches out, they can find the perfect bond.’
Despite the fact that this was uttered by a strange, wood-dwelling man who behaves a little like a pet dog, it’s rather profound.
Sébastien’s words hang in the air between us for a moment.
I glance over at Sarah, wondering if she might turn and catch my eye, but she’s staring straight ahead now, her head resting on the back of the seat.
Her face seems pale, especially considering she’s developing a tan elsewhere, and something about her expression – pinched, troubled – makes something contract in my chest.
‘Are you OK?’ I say quietly to her, and she gives a single nod, eyes still turned away from me.
I want to say more, but Sébastien is here and the last thing I want is for him to decide to dispense medical advice alongside his romantic musings.
We drive on in silence, and I find myself glancing often at Sarah’s profile. Because it’s probably just her annoyance at Sébastien showing on her face, but I can’t help thinking that something else is wrong.
After a little while, she starts sending something on her phone and I assume she’s once again working on one of her cases. I’m not sure how she can concentrate in the van and maybe she can’t, as after a moment, she lets out a little sigh-like gasp and puts the phone, face down, next to her.
‘Work?’ I say, aiming for a bit of solidarity.
‘None of your business,’ she snaps.
She’s right, but it still smarts.
An hour later we pull into Camping Nature L’Ombrage and I feel a sense of relief run through me.
The site is pretty – although busy, it’s spread over seventeen acres and each camper or tent is given a secluded spot, set against a backdrop of beautiful foliage.
There’s a pool and decent showers and I glance at Sarah to see whether she approves.
But her face remains closed; still too hard to read.
As we make our way to our pitch, we pass a family. The father is carrying a small boy on his shoulders and both boy and mother are laughing. Her arm is reaching up to touch the boy’s leg as if to reassure herself he’s safe. And I’m not sure why but I feel my eyes sting with threatening tears.
To our mutual relief, Sébastien instantly bounds off to explore, leaving us on our own for the first time in hours. I help Sarah settle onto a chair, then stand, looking at her. ‘I’m so sorry,’ I say.
She shrugs. ‘He’s OK. It’s just… you know, it’s a lot. It wasn’t the best surprise to find you’d invited him.’ Her voice sounds small, tired.
‘Believe me, I wish I could uninvite him now. Just another instance of me not thinking it through.’
She nods.
‘What’s up? I mean, other than being interrogated about your love life for three hours by an enthusiastic stranger?’
She looks down, and I think at first she’s going to mention the leg, but she doesn’t.
‘I asked Louis,’ she says. ‘I sent him a text earlier to see if he was OK. And he called. You know, I didn’t mention anything about your conversation before, but…
’ She shrugs and I get it. She wanted to see if he’d confide in her.
She turns towards me, her eyes sharp. I can suddenly see her in court.
Wig on. Addressing a judge or a jury. Although if I’m honest, I’m not sure if she ever does this, or what she wears in court if she does go.
‘When you and Louis had a conversation, you told me… well, it was about intimate stuff… Was it? Or did he tell you… you know, his news?’
Now I’m totally confused. ‘News?’
‘So he didn’t tell you anything?’
‘Nothing that you’d call news… no.’
Sarah studies my face for a moment, brow furrowed. Then, when she’s carried out whatever analysis of my expression she feels is necessary, her shoulders relax as if she’s finally accepting that I’ve told her the truth.
‘Hal, Summer’s pregnant.’