Chapter Thirty-Eight
She’d come alone in the end; Clove and Jacks had gone to Bryn Helyg to take advantage of Meier not being around, and Connor hadn’t been able to change his and Jodi’s appointment.
‘I really don’t think it’s a trap,’ she’d protested, when Harry had tried to argue her out of it.
‘For heaven’s sake, you all know where I’m going, and he’s made no secret of where his brother lives or the hotel he’s booked me into for the night.
Anyway, I’ll have my phone; I’ll put the tracker on so you’ll know where I am at any given second of the day, and if it makes you feel any better, I’ll call every hour on the hour. ’
She wouldn’t, obviously, nor would they expect it; she’d just wanted to make the point that she wasn’t worried about this visit and they shouldn’t be either.
The Quinns – honestly! Sometimes, it was worse than having parents, although she’d give almost anything to have hers back, so maybe Harry and Meena’s fussing wasn’t so bad.
And fortunately, it hadn’t annoyed her, which could mean, fingers crossed, that the HRT was starting to kick in.
Dream on, she groaned to herself, as her entire body, as if on cue, started to heat up – to a degree that soon made her desperate to put her head out of the window, even if it meant risking it being smashed off her shoulders by an oncoming train.
Eventually, the hot flush passed, and though she really didn’t want to miss out on a single second of the stunning scenery, she found herself struggling to keep her eyes open.
She must have dozed for a while, because the next thing she knew, they were pulling into Lausanne station where she needed to change for the connection to Vevey.
It didn’t take long – how smoothly everything seemed to run here, and how clean it was too – and after finding herself another window seat, she settled down to begin mentally preparing herself for what might lie ahead.
Now that she was drawing closer, she was starting to wonder about the sanity of being in this impossibly romantic setting with Meier on her own, given how attracted she’d felt to him while in Wales.
There was no reason to think it would be any different here, and now she was asking herself if, on some level, she’d actually wanted to come alone, and maybe it was what he wanted too.
Hadn’t he said, Would you consider joining me?
No mention of Connor, but nor had he pushed back when she’d assumed he’d meant them both.
There was no doubt he was an almost impossible man to read, especially given the muddled perspective she was currently trying to operate through.
Did everyone suffer with an uncontrollable and totally inappropriate libido during menopause?
It didn’t matter; she wasn’t so far out of control that she’d allow some wild hormone rush to turn her into someone else completely, and that’s who she’d be if she ended up in bed with a man she was currently investigating and who she didn’t altogether trust anyway.
Didn’t she trust him?
Maybe knowing he was deeply in love with someone else was what would save her from making a fool of herself with some kind of rebound affair?
For God’s sake, why was she even thinking about this when it couldn’t be further from the reason she was here?
Checking her mobile as it rang, her heart turned over so sharply it stole her breath and actually hurt. For a moment, she considered not answering. She was completely unprepared for this, had no idea what to say, had longed for the call so much that she was now half-afraid she was imagining it.
Clicking on, she said, ‘Hi. This is a surprise.’
‘How are you?’ David asked. ‘Not in the UK by the sound of the ringtone.’
‘Switzerland. Where are you?’
‘At home. Can we talk?’
‘Now? I’m on a train …’
In a tone that wasn’t readable, although definitely not hostile, he said, ‘I can come to Bristol when you’re back.’
It was what she wanted more than anything, had been actually praying for it, and she’d be prepared by then, would know exactly how to handle things, so why wasn’t she saying yes?
‘Can I call you when … I’m not sure how much more we have to put into the series and …’
‘It’s OK. I can wait. Just let me know when it’s best for you.’
After ringing off, she stared out of the window, no longer registering the spectacular terraced vineyards cascading down the hillsides or how the train slowed going through Saint-Saphorin station.
She was waiting for a rush of euphoria or simply relief that he’d finally got in touch, and she guessed both were there somewhere, but it seemed to be worrying her too, and for the moment, she wasn’t sure why.
An hour and a half later she was strolling along the lakeside promenade with Meier.
He’d met her from the train and taken her to the stupendously grand Hotel du Lac – a shining example of the belle époque style that exuded all the sublime elegance and charm of its era.
The uniformed staff had shown her to a lake-view room, and after giving her time to relax and freshen up after her journey, Meier had returned.
Now, with the surreal golden glow of a slowly setting sun turning the Alps on the opposite shore into another kind of wonderland, and the water into a mirror of gently changing colour, she was telling him about the call from David – only because he’d asked, having apparently picked up on some of her inner turmoil.
Otherwise, she wouldn’t have mentioned it.
He really was unnervingly perceptive.
‘I think he wants to end it formally between us,’ she said, as they approached an open-air champagne bar with several lively fire pits to warm the evening drinkers. ‘He just feels it’s wrong to do it on the phone.’
‘Has he given you any reason to think that?’ Meier asked, taking her elbow and guiding her to a tall table at the edge of the bar. ‘Or is it just something you’re afraid of?’
‘Both, I guess,’ she replied with a sigh.
After signalling for two glasses of Taittinger, he held the back of a bar stool as she climbed up, then took the one opposite for himself.
She looked at him, saw how focused he was on her issue and felt her heart expand with gratitude that he actually seemed to care. ‘I’m not here to talk about me,’ she reminded him, genuinely keen to get off the subject now. ‘So how about you tell me why you invited me?’
His eyebrows rose in a quixotic sort of way. ‘Why did you come?’ he countered.
She laughed. ‘I asked first.’
‘But it’s important for me to know the reason you decided to accept.’
She felt a stirring of discomfort, not sure if he was expecting her to admit to her attraction or if it was the furthest thing from his mind. In the end, she said, ‘I’m not sure you’ll like the answer.’
Clearly intrigued, he said, ‘Why don’t you let me decide? But I can only do so if you are honest with me.’
‘OK,’ she said, drawing out the word and tightening her hands as if bracing herself, ‘I – we, as a team … Actually, before I go there, I want to share a Connor observation with you.’ She didn’t really want to, just felt that she should.
Surprised, he said, ‘I’m listening.’
Cristy was already embarrassed. ‘He noticed when we were at Bryn Helyg that everyone there, guests excluded, has a biblical name, and he wondered if it’s mere coincidence, or if it has any significance …’ God, she felt stupid now.
Though clearly baffled, he actually gave it some thought, before saying, ‘But my own name is not …’ He broke into a smile as realization dawned. ‘Ah, Jean-Claude, J.C. And Maggi?’ he queried.
Cristy winced. ‘Magda-lene?’
He nodded, as though conceding a point. ‘OK. I’m thinking about who else was there now … Of course, Connor realizes you only met a handful of the staff, does he not? There are many more from all over the world, and I don’t think all of their names can be described as biblical.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she said wretchedly.
He smiled again, and this time his eyes shone with humour.
‘I am aware of the rumours of a cult,’ he told her.
‘They have long been circling, but I can assure you it’s not who we are – unless it’s how you want to characterize our community of highly qualified therapists whose only goal is the betterment of mental health. ’
‘I’m sorry,’ she said again. She was deeply regretting getting into this now but found herself pushing on anyway. ‘There’s also the rationale you gave for the miracles. It seemed … I don’t know how to put this …’
‘Unusual?’
She nodded.
‘Yes, I realize my views can be seen as a little radical, maybe even sacrilegious to some and perhaps delusional on my part?’
She could tell he was teasing her, so she met his irony with a similar look of her own.
Serious again, he said, ‘After my parents’ deaths, I got into reading a lot of different things, some of it about cults, I confess, and often it was quite dark, certainly not always good for me …
I was in a difficult place, you understand.
It was during this time that I went to Qumran, in Israel, to visit the caves where the Dead Sea Scrolls were found.
I’m not saying this trip was a wrong thing to do; in many ways it was, as you might expect, educational, clarifying even.
While I was there, I sought out translations of the Scrolls, and they led me to various works that contain more logical explanations of the New Testament stories.
This is where my understanding of them comes from. ’
‘I see. So you don’t believe you were there at the time?’
He laughed. ‘If I was, I have no recollection of it. Which is to say, maybe we have all lived before, and maybe we will again, but I have no more proof of it than I do of Christ’s ability to create a feast from a meal for one or turn water into wine.’
‘So he didn’t bring Lazarus back from the dead? Or make a blind girl see? Or rise again on the third day?’