Chapter 39
Le Shack was rocking: music boomed from the marquee; a variety of tempting food was arranged on trestle tables alongside bottles of wine and soft drinks.
Shirl, wearing a flowery dress, and Joel, in his one and only suit, stood with Gisele, who glowed with pride in the red dress that Fliss had made her buy from Le Phare last summer for Manu’s seventieth birthday party.
They welcomed each guest with a hug and kisses on both cheeks.
Bastien and Gemma were already smooching on the dance floor, their arms around each other.
He was wearing a dinner jacket and she wore something black and clinging, made entirely of lace.
Macey was toddling around in a blue romper embroidered with yellow suns, a yellow ribbon in her curls.
She clutched a carrot baton in her fist and was heading directly for the food table.
Not far away, Béa and Louis were wrapped around each other.
Manu and Théo, dressed immaculately in dinner jackets, were talking to Fliss, who had squeezed herself into a shiny black gauze dress.
She’d given herself the role of mixologist for the evening and was whipping up something she called a Fuzzy Navel, made from peach schnapps and orange juice. She handed them a glass each.
Bérnard had already drunk two cocktails and was impersonating John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever. He was trying to impress Jo with his hip-swaying groovy moves. She was looking round for help, but Maxine stood at the doorway in her long sequined dress gazing towards the sinking sun.
She was waiting for J-F, listening for the familiar sound of his Harley. It was already well past eight o’clock.
He probably wasn’t coming now. He’d stood her up.
She texted him one more time.
She knew she should go back to the party. He’d seemed so optimistic when she’d left, kissed her cheek and told her she was the best person in the world. She’d been sure he was making progress.
But she knew what had happened. Depression, Inertia. Poor J-F.
Maxine felt sad. Losing someone you loved was the hardest thing in the world.
She walked back to the marquee where the DJ, one of Bastien’s friends, was playing ‘Tears of a Clown’ by Smokey Robinson & the Miracles.
Maxine listened to the lyrics and suddenly she wanted to cry. The song meant that you showed a false, smile to the world when inside you were falling apart. She knew the feeling well. She’d been doing it for years.
But it could have been written for J-F. The lyrics described him perfectly. Like a clown, he pretended all was well. That was his coping mechanism.
But all wasn’t well. And now he hadn’t turned up again. He’d be at home, grieving.
Maxine thought about each word of the song as she put on her own brave face, walked up to Jo and joined in the dancing. She understood because she and J-F were the same.
As she swayed to the music, she was like a smiling clown too, because all she wanted to do was cry. What she wanted more than anything was for J-F to arrive on his Harley. She wanted to dance in his arms. It hurt every time she breathed.
She missed him. Badly.
He’d seemed so keen to dance with her too, and she’d been looking forward to it more than she’d realised.
Disappointment filled her as she shuffled her feet to the music.
Tears welled in her eyes, but she wouldn’t cry.
There were two days left of her holiday and a wedding to attend.
The thought of how far she had come over the last month lifted her spirits.
Fliss raised a glass in her direction – there was a Fuzzy Navel with her name on it. Maxine grinned thanks as she sauntered over to Fliss. The clown’s smile again.
‘You look lovely – the sequins and the sparkle suit you,’ Fliss said.
‘I made the effort,’ Maxine accepted a cocktail glass.
‘It’s a shame but…’ Fliss’s eyes met hers and Maxine knew that she understood how she felt. ‘You can’t win them all, darling.’
‘I don’t really mind,’ Maxine said and she tried to believe she meant it. Certainly a mouthful of the cocktail helped her convictions.
She turned her attention to Théo, who said, ‘You look very sparkly.’
‘You look nice too,’ she said, taking in the smart jacket and the silk tie. She was about to ask him to dance, to accept the hug of a friend as a distraction from her sadness, when a low throttle sound caught her ears. The music was loud but beneath it was that slow steady sputtering of an exhaust.
‘Maybe we can dance later, Théo. Excuse me – I have to go.’ Maxine tried not to hurry to the doorway of the marquee. But she felt herself break into a jog.
J-F was there, waiting at the kerb in leathers, on the Harley with his engine idling. She hurried towards the sound as he lifted off his helmet and ruffled his hair.
‘I’m late—’
‘I thought you mightn’t come,’ Maxine said.
‘I’ve been unreliable.’ J-F’s expression was all apologies. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘You’ve been grieving.’
‘I drove to Pointe de Pen Glas and did some thinking.’
‘About Noémie?’
‘About you.’ J-F clambered from his bike and secured his helmet. ‘Can we take a walk?’ J-F nodded towards the ocean. ‘The sun’s sinking. It’ll be beautiful. I’ve made a decision about my life, and I want you to share it.’
‘All right.’
J-F took her arm and they crossed the road. At the bottom of the steps to the beach, Maxine slipped off her shoes. ‘They’ll still be there when I get back.’
‘And the beautiful dress too? You can’t get it wet.’ He gave her a mischievous look. ‘You will go te baigner à poil?’ He translated. ‘Skinny dipping?’
Maxine met his gaze with a challenge. ‘Only if you go first.’
‘Perhaps.’ J-F looked at his feet as they walked along. ‘I’ve got some things to say.’ He took a breath. ‘First, thank you for being so kind. I know I’ve been difficult. You’ve been patient. But now it feels like it’s time to let all the sadness go.’
‘Oh?’
‘I want to let it go for all time,’ J-F said. They stood close to the edge of the water. He stared towards the horizon. ‘Losing someone changes you. My day and my night will never be the same. Both have been almost impossible to bear. So I’ve made a big decision about the future.’
Maxine wondered where the conversation was going. There was a new calm about him that made her feel uneasy.
J-F avoided her eyes. ‘You gave me hope. You lost the man you love yet you seem so strong, so capable.’
‘I have my moments.’ Maxine managed a smile.
‘But soon you go away.’
‘I have to go home, J-F.’ Maxine’s voice was level. ‘Life has to go on.’
‘But sometimes it doesn’t go on. Noémie won’t come back.
Andy won’t come back.’ J-F watched the waves tumble in, huge breakers splashing then becoming foam at his feet.
‘The ocean’s so strong, the way it leaps towards us and then drags away.
How easy it would be to give up, to let it carry me away until the pain’s gone. ’
‘What?’
‘Just the intense cold first, then the heart stops and then – no more sadness.’
‘No, that’s not going to happen, J-F.’ Maxine grasped his hand firmly. ‘If you walk into the ocean, then I’m walking in with you. And we’ll both get soaking wet. And my dress will be ruined.’
J-F turned to her. ‘You’d do that? For me?’
Maxine couldn’t believe her next words, but they were out of her mouth in an instant. ‘I would – that’s what friends do. They keep each other safe.’
‘They do.’ In a single movement he kissed her lightly on the lips and stood back, smiling.
‘I came here to tell you that I’m ready to say goodbye to Noémie.
To let the sadness go away with the tide and to keep her safe in my heart.
I’m ready to move on.’ J-F took Maxine’s hands.
‘If I’d died first, I’d want Noémie to find love.
Maybe not as much beautiful love as she had with me, but new happiness. ’
‘You’re right.’
‘So, I’ll start again. I won’t give up. And you too – you’ll begin again?’
Maxine nodded. ‘Yes. Each day’s a new dawn.’
‘You won’t forget me?’ J-F’s eyes were gentle with emotion. ‘Promise me that.’
‘I won’t forget you. Not ever.’ Maxine felt the warmth of his hands.
‘And I can phone you sometimes?’
‘I’d like that.’
‘We’re friends.’
‘Good friends.’
‘And when we’re healed – then what? Maybe there’ll be the space in our hearts for something more than friendship?’
‘Who knows?’ Maxine smiled, remembering their drunken one-night stand. The memory of being in his arms filled her with warmth, affection. And something more, a feeling that made her skin tingle and her heart bump. ‘After all – we have history.’
‘Yes, we’re old lovers.’ J-F smiled as he brought her fingers to his lips. ‘Your hands are cold.’ He moved a palm to her shoulder. ‘You’re cold all over. Here.’ He slipped his leather jacket off. ‘Wear this. Please.’
‘But you only have a T-shirt.’
‘I’m happy, Max. Happiness gives me warmth.’
Maxine slithered into the jacket. The sun was melting into the ocean, orange spattering blue. The sky had darkened, the velvet indigo of an artist’s palette. J-F said, ‘Shall we go to the party?’
‘Why not? We’ve got plenty to celebrate.’
‘We have. The past. The future.’
‘And this moment.’ Maxine took his hand and they walked back towards the road. The sand between her toes was cold now.
‘On Saturday, will you be my guest at Bastien and Gemma’s wedding?’ J-F asked.
‘Your plus one?’ Maxine turned to look at him. As the wind lifted his hair, his face was handsome and tanned. ‘I’d like that.’
‘And afterwards, we’ll share champagne, but not too much of it.’
‘And drink to the happy couple.’ Maxine smiled at the thought.
‘Then…’ J-F took a deep, sad breath ‘…you’ll go home to London and I’ll stay here.’
Maxine thought for a moment. ‘You can visit me. Or I’ll come back. I’ll miss you.’
‘In France we say, Tu me manques. But it means more than I’ll miss you.’
‘What does it mean?’
‘That you’re missing from me, you’re a part of me, just like a limb, like blood.’
Maxine understood exactly. ‘French is a passionate language.’
‘It’s true,’ J-F said. ‘Love’s not just to keep you warm on rainy days, like it is for you English.’ He laughed. ‘Love is the essence of who we are, our souls, our being.’
Maxine knew. That was exactly the sort of love she’d had and lost.
But what if now…? She held her breath with the thought. What if?
‘Max.’ J-F stopped suddenly, listening. ‘Can you hear it?’
‘The music?’
‘It’s Santana, the song you wanted. “Samba Pa Ti”.’
‘We’ve missed it.’
‘No, it’s still playing – you can hear it,’ J-F said in a whisper. ‘It means “a samba for you”. You and I promised each other a dance. We’ll dance here. On the sand.’
‘We will.’ Maxine smiled, wrapped her arms around his neck and he pulled her close, fingers caressing her hair. She rested her cheek against his shoulder. She was where she’d wanted to be all evening, and it felt right.
Like coming home.
They danced to a plaintive guitar, an achingly beautiful melody, each note filled with emotion.
Maxine closed her eyes and let the power of the song lift her.
As their bodies swayed, the last of the light faded from the sky.
Tiny diamond stars were spattered against the darkness.
The sound of laughter and conversation came from the marquee, but the beach was silent, except for the soft breath of the breeze.