Nell
PRESENT
“Did Alex tell you about Ariane’s job?” Inès asks when lunch is over and we’re having coffee in her sitting room.
Inès stretches her legs out in front of her.
“None of us knew, not until after she died. We were good friends and I honestly believed she worked for BNP Paribas. We used to meet outside their offices in Marylebone, for God’s sake!
That’s how good she was at hiding it.” She pauses.
“I know that Alex, and Béatrice and Victor, think that her murder was linked to her job. But I’m not so sure. ”
“What do you mean?”
She gives one of her Gallic shrugs. “Not long before she died, Ariane told me she thought someone was following her. If her role in the secret service was dangerous, the possibility of being followed would have been part of it and she wouldn’t have been allowed to speak about it.
Not only that, she used the word ‘stalker,’ which is another reason why I don’t think her murder was connected to her job.
So, my theory is that she wasn’t a spy as such and that her role was more administrative.
In other words, her murder was nothing to do with her job. ”
Stunned at the mention of Ariane having a stalker, I forget to breathe. I reach for my coffee and take a gulp, then immediately start coughing when it catches my throat, which has become dry with dread.
“Sorry,” I splutter. Inès jumps up to fetch a glass of water while I pull a tissue from my pocket and wipe my eyes, which are smarting with tears. I want to pretend they’re a result of my coughing fit but for the second time that day, I find myself breaking into sobs.
“Oh, Nell, I’m sorry.” Inès puts down the glass and sits next to me, her hand on my arm. “Is it what I said about Ariane? Take no notice of me, no one agrees with me anyway. They’re adamant that she was killed because of the job she was doing and they’re probably right.”
“It’s not that,” I lie, because I don’t want to hear any more about Ariane having a stalker.
“What then?” Inès asks. “Is it Alex?”
“No,” I say, because I don’t want to talk about him either. And as I have to say something, or perhaps because it’s still there in my mind and in my heart, I find myself telling her about the incident in the park and how I found myself longing to be a mother.
“It’s normal for you to feel that way,” Inès says, when I get to the end.
“Especially around our age. It’s our body clock ticking.
I remember you saying that you’re thirty-six.
Well, I’m thirty-seven now and it hit me last year when Béatrice told me that she and Victor wanted to have a baby.
She had never mentioned babies in the four years I’d known her but as soon as she said the word ‘baby,’ I was filled by this terrible desire to have one too.
It became such an obsession that I told Maxime not long after I met him.
I was honest and said that I wanted to have a baby within the next couple of years and that if children weren’t in his plans, I preferred not to waste any more time with him, given my age. ”
I smile, glad to have the focus away from me. “You’re still together so I’m guessing he agreed.”
“He did. But we can’t even think about starting a family until we’re living together full-time, which is why he’s asked to be transferred to London.”
“That’s wonderful. I’m so glad for you.”
She smiles. “Thanks. You know, if you really feel that strongly about having a baby, you need to tell Alex.”
“I can’t, it’s too soon. Not just in our relationship but also for me. It only hit me today so I need to sit with it for a while. Anyway, he already has a son.”
“That doesn’t mean he wouldn’t want another child. If Ariane hadn’t died, I’m sure they would have had children. They were going to get married.”
I can’t hide my surprise. “Really?”
“Yes, once they moved to the US.”
“I didn’t know they were going to live in the US.”
“It was where most of Alex’s clients were at that time and Ariane knew how much he loved living in Washington.
She was keen to move there and after, once I knew she’d worked for the French secret service, I wondered if it was because she wanted to get as far away from her old job as possible.
” Inès pauses. “At one time, I thought she might have been killed because she was leaving.”
“What do you mean?”
“Her feeling of being followed started while she was working her notice. I don’t know—maybe you’re not allowed to leave the French secret service if you know too many secrets?”
My mouth drops open. “What, you think they might have killed her? The French secret service?”
“It was just a theory.”
“But if she only had an administrative role?”
“That’s where my theory fell apart.”
“Did she say how long she thought someone had been following her for?”
“A couple of months, I think she said. I told her to go to the police but she said she couldn’t.
I thought she meant that as she couldn’t prove it, there wasn’t any point in telling them.
But after she died, I wondered if she’d meant she couldn’t say anything to the police because of who she was working for. ”
I turn it over in my head for a moment. “Do you know if Ariane told Alex that she thought she had a stalker?”
“She hadn’t when she spoke to me about it.
She said she didn’t want to worry him. Also, she was due to leave her job—the one she supposedly had with BNP Paribas—and move to Washington so maybe that was a factor in her decision not to say anything, given that she was only going to be in the UK for another few weeks. ”
“Did you tell Alex that Ariane thought she was being followed?”
“Yes, after she died.”
“What did he say?”
“The same as Béatrice and Victor said when I mentioned it to them. That it went with the territory. Alex spoke to someone from the French secret service. They didn’t tell him much but enough to convince him that she died in the line of duty.
But come on, let’s change the subject and talk about brighter things. ”
“Good idea.” I hesitate a moment, then decide to go for it. “Could we speak French together, do you think? I’ve been learning it online and I’d love to put what I’ve learned into practice.”
“You’ve been learning French?”
“Yes, as a surprise for Alex.”
Inès puts her hands together. “He will be so happy!”
I smile at her enthusiasm. “I hope so.”
We speak French for the next thirty minutes and Inès’s compliments about my ability to hold a conversation gives my confidence an enormous boost. It’s 8:00 PM by the time I leave; there are people around, so I walk for ten minutes, the sting of the cold on my cheeks reviving me after a little too much wine, then hail a taxi to take me the rest of the way home.
The driver obligingly drops me in front of my door and I do my usual thing of asking him to wait until I’m safe inside.
Then I do my other usual thing of checking the rooms for signs of an intruder.
Thankfully, there are none and, feeling as safe as I possibly can, I go to bed.