Chapter 11
NOW
‘Oh my God, you’re alive!’ Kitty’s voice was carefully upbeat, but there was a definite edge to it.
Sitting on the bed as she tried to paint her toenails, the phone balanced between shoulder and ear, Bella grimaced and almost lost her grip.
‘Sorry. Sorry,’ she said, her tongue flicking at the side of her lips as she concentrated on applying yellow varnish to her big toenail. ‘I meant to call but—’
‘You texted to say you’d arrived in Versailles and were going to the house. Then nothing!’
‘Yeah, things kind of—it’s been eventful.’
‘I know, but still… You can’t go from calling me every day to ignoring my calls after going to live in a house of strangers.’
When she put it like this, Kitty had a point. ‘Yeah, sorry.’
‘It’s OK. Well, it is now. Now I know you’re not lying in the gutter somewhere.’
Bella had slipped after going out for drinks last night and had almost fallen face first in the gutter, but it probably wasn’t a good time to tell her sister this. ‘Not quite.’
‘So,’ Kitty settled into her usual tone. ‘Tell me all about this new job. It starts tomorrow, doesn’t it?’
‘Yeah. I mean, it’s no big deal. Just an admin job, really… probably.’
‘Probably?’
‘I mean, yes. It’s an admin job. Like I said. I mean, I don’t have to prepare or psych myself up or anything.’
‘In Versailles?’
‘Paris.’
‘Oh là là!’ her sister replied in a thick French accent. ‘You must tell me more about this glamorous role!’
Bella laughed. ‘Not sure it’s that glamorous.
But it’s in this little boutique hotel which does look pretty cute.
’ She described the building, narrow but tall, like many of the buildings in Paris, attached on one side to a restaurant, on the other to an insurance office.
Despite its apparent diminutive frontage, it had twenty rooms.
‘And your job title?’
What was this? An interrogation? But Kitty had always been curious (she and Mum had used to laugh and make comments about curiosity killing the cat), and also had a rather scary sixth sense that detected when she was being lied to. ‘It’s… oh I don’t know. PA or something.’
‘Sounds good.’ Kitty’s voice was impressed. ‘How did you land that?’
‘I’m not completely useless, you know!’
‘I know that. It’s just you said about all the applications and the ghosting and… well, you haven’t really got any admin experience have you, so…’
Bella felt a strange sensation in her chest. She reminded herself that her sister was just being supportive.
‘Yeah. Anyway,’ she said dismissively, determined to change the subject. ‘What about you? Have you been up to anything?’
Kitty snorted. ‘Oh well, we went to the park yesterday so that’s something!’
‘And how’s Ty?’
‘Adorable. Annoying.’
Bella smiled, thinking of her two-year-old nephew. ‘Hopefully more one than the other?’
‘Yes, but I’m not saying which. Anyway, my life is nothing new. I want to know about this house share. What are the others like? Are you getting on?’
Memory footage from the last forty-eight hours scrolled through Bella’s mind as she inspected it for suitable titbits.
Naked Henri? No. Getting unfathomably drunk on three glasses of cherry wine, then finding out it was more of a liqueur, something to be enjoyed sparingly?
Best not. The fact that she was off out again tonight despite the fact she was starting a new job tomorrow?
Probably best to keep that to herself. That and the fact her friends thought she was a twenty-something student on a degree break rather than a thirty-something woman with dodgy finances.
‘It’s good. They seem… nice,’ she said at last.
‘And Pete hasn’t been in touch?’
‘No.’
‘Good.’
The fizz she had been feeling in anticipation of the night out dampened at the mention of his name. ‘Good?’
‘Sorry. I liked Pete, obviously. But after he left you like that? It was so heartless. It made me question everything about him.’
‘Well, I loved him. And whether you liked him or not, I miss him.’
‘I know, I’m sorry.’
When she’d got married in her twenties, people had commented it was young. Plus, emigrating to France and opening a business? Nobody had said much out loud once the move had been finalised, but she’d always suspected people had wondered – how long it would last.
She wondered how long it would take her sister to say, ‘I told you so.’
‘So. Are you all ready?’ her sister continued.
‘What for?’ She had, in the past, wondered if Kitty might be psychic. But how could she possibly know Bella was preparing for a night out?
She’d selected a yellow dress she’d bought years ago and never worn, and Odette had helped her to style her hair with more of a tousle, using mousse and tongs.
She’d even promised to help her run a little colour through its brown length to give it a bit of a pop.
She’d lent her a dark red lipstick and when Bella had put it on earlier, she’d looked in the mirror and gasped.
In place of the rather sensible, neat, and passably pretty Bella she’d become accustomed to seeing was a new woman – someone who looked vibrant and fun and bright and confident. It was as if she’d stepped into a magical clothing store and bought a whole new persona. Eat your heart out, Mr Ben.
‘Ready? What do you mean?’
‘For work! Got everything ironed? Have you bought your ticket? Thought about lunch? It’s probably better to take something just in case… I—’
‘Oh yeah, I’ll be fine.’ Bella straightened up and held her leg out, looking at her toenails in the still bright daylight. They glimmered.
‘Good. And you’re not going to spend the evening fretting?’
‘I’ll try not to.’ She smiled, thinking about the theatre, the musical she was being dragged to at Théatre Darius Milhaud.
It was a performance of an original play penned by one of the students and although she’d never really been one for musicals or theatre – or, latterly, even going out after 7 p.m. – she had really been looking forward to it.
Henri had said he’d bring a couple of people he knew from the uni, and one of Odette’s friends had managed to secure them tickets at half price.
She managed to deflect further questions by asking Kitty about her husband, Stu, and his new job. It worked… just.
After they’d said their goodbyes, she set her phone down on the cotton duvet, stood and opened one of the doors of her rather ancient wardrobe, taking in her appearance in the mirror on the back.
Her newly styled hair was falling softly around her face.
The dress hugged her waist and fell gently to her knees, just enough to reveal her lightly tanned legs without being too short.
But what struck her most was the way she looked in herself – more confident and, importantly, completely different from usual. She put her shoulders back and met her own gaze.
Suddenly, as it sometimes did, grief bubbled up from deep inside her, taking her by surprise.
She slumped back down on the bed, her mind racing.
Pete. Her Pete had abandoned her. She had lost her house, her business.
She was here in France with nobody. Now she was lying, too – to Kitty, the last family member she had in her life in any real sense.
And for the first time in months, she wanted her mother so much she could barely breathe. Just one hug. One smile. One hand to touch her cheek and say it was all OK, to tell her what to do.
It took five minutes to stop the flow of tears, slow her breathing.
She’d had her first panic attack at sixteen, but over the years had learned to manage them.
Now, while they threatened from time to time, she knew how to keep them in check.
It’s OK, she whispered to herself. It would be OK.
She could do this and besides, once the house had sold, she’d have options. Not many. But some.
She could do this.
* * *
It was past 2 a.m. when they finally staggered back through the door.
Her feet were aching and her dress was rumpled.
Her hair had gone beyond ‘ruched’ and looked more like a mop.
But she was laughing; she had been laughing non-stop since they’d left the theatre and gone to the bar, and laughter had carried her home – sore feet and all.
The play had been sombre at best, and so badly acted that it had seemed like a farce.
She’d tried to watch it, mirroring the serious expressions of everyone around her.
But then she’d caught Odette’s eye half an hour in and seen a flicker of recognition.
A smile had slipped out, and Odette’s face had grinned in response.
Then they’d both been taken over by giggles so violent that they were as much pain as pleasure.
Henri had remained impassive, but had followed them out obediently when they’d decided to leave.
The bar they’d gone to had been just along the road from the theatre – a small place with a long mahogany serving bar, and several scattered tables.
They’d found a bench seat in the corner and sipped white wine from a bottle paid for by Henri.
‘That’s not fair, you paid for the tickets!
’ Odette had protested, but he’d insisted.
‘Yes, but you girls deserve compensation for that play.’
They’d spoken French for the most part and although Bella had known her tenses weren’t always correct, she’d managed to keep up with the pace of the conversation.
And gradually, the sense of comradery and influx of alcohol had meant the bubble that Kitty’s call had pierced had formed around her again and she’d felt part of things.
It wasn’t real, this feeling of belonging. But she’d clung onto it anyway.
Entering the house, the mood was diffused. Odette had fallen asleep in the taxi and looked pale and tired. ‘I must go to bed,’ she said, giving them both a kiss on the cheek before disappearing into her downstairs room.
‘Is she OK?’ Bella asked Henri.
‘Oui, I think she gets a little melancholy sometimes after wine,’ he told her. ‘She will be fine.’
A silence descended as their eyes met, and for a second she felt a pull of something. She looked at Henri’s face – so trouble-free, unlined. Those deep, serious eyes. She reached up without thinking and brushed a little hair from his forehead.
His skin felt electric under her touch and as he reached down and put a hand on each side of her waist, she felt herself almost melt, her legs turn shaky and unstable.
Her sex life with Pete had faded to almost nothing over the past year, but even before that she couldn’t remember her body responding like this.
When Henri leant down towards her and brushed his lips lightly against hers, she felt it again; that crackle of heat between them.
Then, ‘Non,’ he said, almost to himself, and broke away. ‘You have been drinking.’
‘It’s fine! I’m not drunk… I—’
He ran a hand under her chin and tilted her face up to look at his. ‘We have all the time in the world,’ he told her. And in that moment, she felt it was true.
It was only when she was dropping into sleep, her body heavy against the mattress, that she heard it. Lifting herself onto her elbows, she pricked her ears like an animal, stilling her breath so that she could tune in to any sound.
And there it was again. The sound of crying.
Soft, low, held in, but definitely there.
She thought of Odette in the room below.
Was it her? Ought she to go and see if her friend was all right?
But her body was too heavy, her legs, too wobbly.
She tried to swing them out of bed, but it was an effort and she wasn’t sure she could manage it.
She’d speak to Odette in the morning, she decided, finally giving up her hold on consciousness and slipping into sleep.