Chapter 41
I’ve been thinking a lot about Louis’s words since the last time I saw him.
I know he genuinely cares for me and I can’t lightly brush off his concerns over Stéphane.
I also realised that as well as those Gauloises cigarettes that I now detest the smell of, I too was beginning to see things in Stéphane that I didn’t like.
The way he treated other people; the way that things he did and said went against everything I had been brought up to respect.
The notion, too, that he’d been lying to me about his life had settled into my mind and refused to go away.
I tried to push all my disquieting thoughts aside today, though, when I had lunch with Stéphane, and for a while everything was great between us. Then I made the mistake of asking him if he knew Isabel Pell.
He gave me a surprised look. ‘Fredericka? Of course I know about her.’
‘I’m writing a feature, telling my fellow Americans about how an American woman played a large part in the French Resistance down here.
They will be so proud. Have you ever met her – before or after – the liberation?
Or been to the Maquis in the mountains near Puguet-Théniers?
She lives on a farm near Grasse, doesn’t she? ’
I smiled at him, hoping that at the very least he would tell me an interesting anecdote or two which I could include in my article.
Stéphane didn’t answer immediately and to fill the lengthening silence, I asked another question. ‘Does she really have a natural white streak in her hair, earning her the nickname “the girl with the blonde streak”?’
‘Non, I never went to Puguet-Théniers or to Grasse, so I’ve never met her, and yes, she has a white streak of hair,’ Stéphane finally said.
‘Personally, I’ve never wanted to meet her.
Oh, she helped the resistance, nearly bankrupted herself in the process, but basically, for me, she’s an American queer woman with a scandalous background who likes the limelight. ’
Stunned at the vehemence in his voice, I stared at him. ‘How can you say that when she’s done so much for France. And is still helping up in the mountains.’
‘Not denying that, but it’s time she went back to America and let the French get on with rebuilding their lives, their way.’ Before I could find my voice to reply, he carried on. ‘I’m off to Paris again for at least a week.’
‘Seeing the amount of time you spend there, why don’t you move there permanently,’ I snapped, furious with him and the way he’d belittled Isabel’s war-time exploits that I knew had been extraordinary for an American woman.
‘Peut-être next year I might.’ He shrugged his shoulders before telling me he’d see me when he returned. ‘You’ll be able to see your friend Lieutenant Turner to your heart’s content, so I don’t expect you will miss me at all.’
And that was when I decided I had to break off the relationship.
I glared at him. ‘You know what? I don’t think I’m going to be around so much when you get back.’
Stéphane shrugged. ‘OK.’ And he stood up and walked away. Confirmation to my mind that Stéphane wasn’t as nice a person as I had originally thought.
* * *
Evie left the journal on the table and went through to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of red wine from the open bottle on the work surface.
Sipping it thoughtfully, she went back to stand in front of the window and regarded the scene in front of her.
Early evening and the cafés and restaurants alongside the marketplace had laid out their tables as usual.
Already, people were sitting at a couple of the gingham-clothed tables enjoying pizzas.
Was the journal entry she’d just read the beginning of the end for GeeGee’s relationship with Stéphane? Evie hated the thought of GeeGee being hurt but couldn’t help thinking that it would be a good thing if it was the end.