Chapter 53 #2
It was awful seeing Hélène’s eyes so full of hurt that Florence’s heart twisted. Her sister’s nerves had clearly been wound terribly tight from the exhausting vigil of looking after Claudette. And now Jack turning up on top of all that must be just one thing too many.
‘And, while we’re on the subject of being civilised, couldn’t you have done more for Claudette?’
‘This isn’t fair. She asked me to find Rosalie. I told you,’ Florence said quietly. ‘Doesn’t that count for anything?’
‘Before. I’m talking about before.’
Florence felt defenceless but stood her ground. ‘I offered to stay with her, help her. She told me to go.’
‘And you didn’t think to tell me she was ill then? I could have done something. Something more than sitting and watching her slowly die.’
Florence kept her voice calm. ‘That isn’t fair either. I know it must have been awful for you but you’re being unreasonable. I told you she wanted me to find Rosalie. I didn’t know she was ill. How could I have known? She said she was fine.’
‘And it suited you to believe her.’
‘I tried.’
‘Not hard enough.’
The afternoon slowed, came to a standstill. Florence opened her mouth but nothing would come out. Her eyes watered but she swallowed her misery. Hélène did have a point.
‘And now sweet little Florence is going to cry.’
It had been such a long, hard day and now this. Florence gulped back her tears. ‘You know what, we have just buried our mother,’ she said, trying to speak calmly. ‘This is not like you.’
They stared at each other. Florence was shocked by Hélène’s cold stare.
Instinct told her to back off but a flash of anger suddenly made her snap. ‘Oh, for Christ’s sake,’ she muttered. ‘When did you become such a bitch?’
‘Me?’ Hélène said, incredulous.
‘Yes. Jack said he wrote to you as soon as we reached England. He explained things. Surely after two years you can’t still be angry about this?’
‘I never received a letter from Jack,’ Hélène said dismissively.
‘He sent one. He told me.’
‘How cosy.’
‘Not at the time, much later he told me. Maybe the letter went astray.’
‘If he wrote it.’
‘Of course he did.’
‘And you believe everything he says.’
‘I’m sorry, Hélène. I’m terribly sorry, but Jack and I held back for ages. I thought long and hard. I didn’t set out to hurt you. Isn’t this about Maman? Not me and Jack at all?’
Her sister remained silent.
‘What more can I do?’ Florence asked.
Hélène narrowed her eyes. ‘You can go back to Devon. That’s what. Now I’d like to be left alone to read these cards.’
Florence moved towards her sister and, speaking softly, reached out a hand. ‘Jack cared, but he just didn’t love you in the way you wanted, Hélène. You’re holding on to something that never existed except in your own mind.’
Hélène’s eyes hardened. Then with no warning she slapped Florence’s face with so much force she staggered back, her cheek and eyes stinging as she stared at her sister.
Shocked, she turned on her heels and stumbled away.
She’d heard about sisters becoming estranged but had never imagined it could ever happen to them. And yet their relationship was in pieces, and it seemed there was nothing she could do or say to put it back together again.
At twilight, Florence sat on the bed with Jack at the hotel. Earlier he had told Rosalie about her friend Charlotte’s death and the charm bracelet found on her body. Rosalie had been upset to hear the news and said she’d given her friend the bracelet as a thank you for the loan of her apartment.
‘Come to the bar, Florence,’ Jack said. ‘You look as if you need a drink and Rosalie certainly does. I think she wants to talk.’
But Florence couldn’t face people and shook her head.
‘Did something more happen?’ he asked. ‘More than your stumble over a log in the church yard. That was what happened wasn’t it?’
‘Yes.’
‘So there’s nothing you want to talk about?’
‘No,’ she said, unable to admit that Hélène had slapped her face.
‘I’ll see you later then.’ He kissed her, stood up and moved away.
‘Wait,’ she said as he reached the door. ‘Hélène told me she didn’t receive a letter from you.’
‘Well, I certainly sent one.’
She nodded. ‘I told her that.’
‘Pity. It might have made all the difference to how she feels now. But Florence, you really do need to leave the guilt behind.’
‘And leave my sister behind too?’
He shook his head. ‘No, but life is fleeting, and we have to seize happiness. She will come round. She loves you.’
‘You don’t understand.’
‘Perhaps not, but this isn’t doing you any good. I do understand that. Please, Florence, dry your eyes. Come and have a drink.’
‘I can’t. My skin is red and blotchy. I look a fright.’
He smiled, came back to take her face in his hands and kiss her on the tip of her nose. ‘You never look a fright.’
‘You go.’
‘Are you sure? I can get a message to Rosalie and stay with you instead.’
‘No. I’ll be all right. Go.’ She’d spoken more sharply than she’d intended and felt sorry when he stiffened at her tone. And then he was gone.
Night fell slowly, the darkness creeping around the room, but she didn’t switch on the lamps.
Didn’t want to see her own face in the mirror.
She hadn’t expected instant forgiveness, but she had hoped to be able to talk, find a way to be sisters again.
But nothing could make it better. Jack was hers now and she was his.
Would it help to break off their engagement?
She doubted it. She remembered how kind Hélène and élise had been after the rape.
How they had protected her, cared for her, enfolded her in the safety of their love.
Would it help any of them if she were forced to choose between her sister and the man she loved?