‘I understand, Mr Fairley. Have a nice weekend.’
‘Thanks. Oh, Vincent, I suppose the man who called didn’t leave a name, did he?’
‘No, he didn’t, but the operator who took the call said he was an Englishman.’
‘I see. I’ll check in with you over the weekend, and have the telephone operators monitor any calls for us. And keep a record, please.’
‘I will, sir.’
The manager hung up, and Lorne finished packing his bag, then he went into Tessa’s bedroom, took out a small suitcase, looked at the list she had given him over the phone: nightgown, dressing gown, underwear, flat shoes, sandals.
Within a few minutes he had gathered all of these items and laid them on the bed. Perusing the list again, he noted that she wanted the white outfit she had worn on Thursday, the white Manolo Blahniks, and the pearl chandelier earrings. He located everything, decided to add a couple of other pieces of clothing he liked on her, and finally began to pack the suitcase.
Going into the bathroom he found her makeup bag on the floor, scooped up certain cosmetics she had requested, plus her toothbrush and toothpaste, a few other essentials, and put all of these things in the make-up bag, along with her hairbrush.
Within half an hour he was finished with her bag and his own. Returning to the living room of the suite, he dialled Linnet at Pennistone Royal on his mobile.
‘Pennistone Royal,’ Margaret was saying a few seconds later.
‘Hello, Margaret darling,’ Lorne answered in the special voice he reserved for her. ‘How’re you feeling? Not overdoing it, I hope. You know you’ve got to take it easy these days.’
‘Oh, Lorne, how luverly to hear your voice,’ she said in a warm tone. ‘How’s Tessa?’
‘We’re both fine, Mags, enjoying Paris. I assume everything is all right at the house?’
‘Not a blessed thing out of place,’ Margaret reassured him. ‘Now, I suppose you’re looking for your sister.’
‘Yes, I am. Thanks, Margaret.’
‘I’ll tell her you’re on the phone, and give my love to Miss Tessa. Now don’t be going away, I’ll just put you on hold. Take care of yourself, luvy.’
It’s funny how she veers between calling Tessa by her first name and sometimes adds a Miss in front, he thought, but she never does this with me, thank God. I’m always Lorne. Margaret had known them since they were toddlers, and she was part of the family. And yet there were odd moments when she became quite formal with them, as if she’d suddenly remembered she was the housekeeper.
‘It’s Linnet,’ his sister said.
‘Hi, Sis!’ he replied. ‘I’m just checking in.’
‘Nothing to report here. All’s quiet on the Western front. And I like this Sis bit, far better than all those chirpy names you dig up for me.’
He chuckled. ‘Listen, I just wanted to tell you what’s happening here.’
‘Everything is all right, isn’t it, Lorne?’
‘Absolutely. I decided to take Tessa away for the weekend. We’re going to stay with my friend Jean-Claude Deléon, you met him last year, if you remember. Here in Paris with Ma and Pa, en route to the south.’
‘How could any woman forget him? He’s rather dishy, to say the least. Okay, so you’re going to spend the weekend at his country place. I think that’s a splendid idea.’
‘He’d invited us, and I hadn’t actually accepted, but then when you alerted me to Mark Longden’s presence in Paris, along with Ainsley’s, I decided to take him up on his offer. We might never run into either of these two buggers, but you never know. Best to be on the safe side.’
‘You don’t think they’d try to do anything to you and Tessa?’ she exclaimed. ‘Or do you?’
‘Who the hell knows, Linny. Jack has a bit of a bee in his bonnet about them right now, so I’m not going to take any chances. I can’t tell you how glad I am that I accepted the invitation, because the hotel manager just told me an Englishman has been calling, asking for Tessa and then me. I know it’s not anybody from the family, because everyone has my mobile number. Anyway, they would have left their name.’
‘They would. And Tessa was happy to tag along?’
‘Of course. She didn’t want to reject the idea, because she didn’t want to deprive me of the peace and quiet of the country. She knows I’ve got to study, learn my part.’
‘I’m glad you’re getting out of the city. Is it still hot?’
‘Very. Anyway, my mobile’s on all the time and so is hers–because of her worries about Adele.’
‘I know that. Listen, this was a brilliant idea of yours, bundling her off to the country.’
‘Yes. Big kiss. Talk to you soon, Linny.’
‘Lots of love.’
Lorne sat for a moment staring into space after they had hung up, thinking of Jean-Claude. It had been his idea to cart them off to the country. Not long ago he had phoned again and said he thought they should leave that evening in order to have longer there. Jean-Claude had suggested he pack their bags before coming over to the apartment for a drink. When Lorne had hesitated, had pointed out that Tessa would wonder what was going on, his friend had persuaded him otherwise. A little later Tessa had phoned and had sounded perfectly normal when she had rattled off the items she needed for the weekend. So that was that.
Jumping up, Lorne put the script, his notes, a pad and a few other small items in a carry-all, then went to the desk. He dialled the concierge, asked for a bellboy to bring the luggage down, and hurried to the bedroom to grab a jacket.
Ten minutes later he was being driven across Paris to the seventh arrondissement and the rue de Babylone.
Clos-Fleuri was in a private park on the edge of the Forest of Fontainebleau, and as Jean-Claude drove in through the iron gates Tessa caught her breath in surprise.
The house stood at the end of a short driveway, and now at dusk, in the fading light of day, it looked perfectly beautiful, silhouetted as it was against a deep-pavonian blue sky. Lights had been turned on and the windows glittered brightly, inviting, beckoning to them. What a lovely welcoming sight, she thought.
She saw at once that it wasn’t a château at all, just as Jean-Claude had insisted earlier on the way from Paris. Lorne had disagreed with him, teasing him, telling him he was far too modest about his country home.
But Jean-Claude had been accurate in calling his house just that–a house, she saw that now. It was of medium size, looked compact from the outside, and it had rounded towers at the four corners, each one topped with a conical-shaped, dark blue slate roof. There were four chimneys and all those tall slender windows…far too numerous to count. To the left of the house were buildings which Tessa thought were old stables, and to the right a copse of trees. It was an ancient property, she could see that from the time-worn stones, and pale-rose bricks, and possibly dated back to the eighteenth century.
As they drew closer, Tessa admitted to herself that she had never seen a house that was so appealing to her, and she knew she would never forget this first impression of that lovely, graceful exterior, glimmering softly in the twilight. Her attraction to the house had truly taken her by surprise, since she was not one to be bowled over by any building, and even Pennistone Royal, where she had grown up, had always seemed too big and sprawling, even intimidating to her.
But then again, Clos-Fleuri was his, and perhaps that explained her liking for it. Anything to do with him fascinated her.
A few minutes later Jean-Claude was parking at the front door, and this was opened immediately, almost before he’d pulled on the brake. A youngish man, in a white butler’s jacket like Hakim’s, came down the steps rapidly, greeting them all with enthusiasm, especially Jean-Claude. Once they had been introduced to the houseman, whose name was Gérard, Jean-Claude led them into the house and Gérard went to retrieve their luggage.
‘Let me take you to your rooms,’ Jean-Claude said, leading them both across the well-furnished hall and up the wide central staircase with highly
polished mahogany banisters. ‘I must then go to the kitchen and unpack the hamper so that we can decide what we are going to have for dinner.’
‘Tessa’s a great cook,’ Lorne announced rather proudly as they went up the stairs. ‘She’ll cook dinner for us.’
Glancing at her swiftly, Jean-Claude seemed surprised to hear this, and said, ‘I don’t think there is anything to cook. Lurdes filled the hamper with a number of cold dishes she had prepared for this evening. And of course she’ll be here tomorrow to cook for us.’
‘But I’d like to make supper, I really would!’ Tessa exclaimed. When he didn’t answer she added, ‘If that’s all right with you.’
‘Mais oui… what a nice idea.’
She glanced at him through the corner of her eye as they stepped onto the landing, and thought that he hadn’t sounded at all enthusiastic, but she said nothing further, followed him along the carpeted corridor with Lorne.
Halfway down he opened a door, turned to Lorne and said, ‘Here we are, mon vieux, I know you like this room,’ and so saying he ushered her brother inside.
Tessa peered in, saw how charming it looked with a blue-and-white toile de Jouy documentary-print fabric on the walls, at the windows and on the bed, and there was a blue carpet on the floor.
‘Thanks Jean-Claude, it is my favourite. See you downstairs in a few minutes.’ Smiling at them both, Lorne closed the door.
When they came to the end of the corridor, Jean-Claude stopped. ‘You’re in here, Tessa, I hope you like it,’ and he turned the knob, led her inside.
The entire room was covered in an unusual parchment-coloured print patterned with pink roses and green leaves, but it had long since faded, and there was an old-world feeling to it now, a hint of days long gone. Like Lorne’s room, the fabric had been used everywhere. She turned around slowly, taking everything in, noting the large four-poster bed, the pretty dressing table, the chaise.
‘Well, what do you have to say?’ he asked, scrutinizing her intently.
‘It’s beautiful,’ she murmured and gave him a smile, but it was a smile that quickly faltered. Studying her as he was he instantly saw the downcast expression on her face, and understood immediately what was amiss. Striding across the room, he opened a door and said, ‘I am in here if you need me. This is my room, Tessa. Do you wish to come in?’
Instantly her spirits lifted and she flew across the floor, ran after him into his bedroom. He was standing waiting for her in the middle of the room, a faint smile flickering on his sensitive yet sensual mouth. He wrapped his arms around her, and against her hair he murmured, ‘Does this make you feel better?’
‘I thought you were banishing me,’ she whispered.
‘That is something never to be considered, chérie, je suis là. Toujours.’
‘Am I going to sleep in here with you?’ she asked, her voice still a whisper.
‘You had better not think of sleeping anywhere else. But I think it’s important to be discreet, for your sake rather than mine, that is why I gave you your own room. You’ll use it as a dressing room, of course.’ Moving her slightly away from him, he bent down, kissed the tip of her nose. ‘My father taught me that discretion is the better part of valour.’
A short while later Tessa went down to the kitchen, and her face lit up when she walked in. It was spacious, built entirely of pale stone, with Provençal tiles and a beamed ceiling, truly country style. But as she glanced around she saw all of the latest modern appliances, and exclaimed, ‘I’d love to cook in here, Jean-Claude!’
Turning around, he laughed, nodded. ‘I know it is very conducive to creating a gourmet meal. However, I’m afraid that tonight we do have supper already prepared by Lourdes, as I mentioned earlier.’
‘I know.’ She joined him at the big oak table and looked down at the items he had unpacked from the hamper which Gérard had brought in from the car. Country pâté in a stone dish, cornichons, sliced country ham, a creamy potato salad, a tin of Beluga caviar, and a large glass bowl of luscious dark red cherries. ‘It’s quite a feast,’ she murmured.
‘And Gérard just told me there is a wheel of brie cheese in the pantry and fresh baguettes, so I don’t think we’re going to starve.’
‘That’s true,’ she laughed, and then glanced at the door as Lorne strolled in looking rather debonair in a pair of white slacks and a black linen shirt. ‘Gosh, you changed, and I didn’t even think of it,’ she muttered, shaking her head. ‘Perhaps I should go–’
‘It’s not necessary, chérie,’ Jean-Claude said, putting a hand on her arm lovingly. ‘You look beautiful the way you are.’
She glanced at him and smiled, then said, ‘I need a glass of iced water, I’m very thirsty.’
‘I’ll be bartender,’ Lorne offered, walking over to the refrigerator, taking out a bottle of water. ‘What about you, Jean-Claude? What would you like?’
‘Pink champagne, I think.’ Jean-Claude swung around to face Lorne. ‘I believe you will find a bottle in there, Gérard usually has one cooling.’
Opening the refrigerator again, Lorne peered inside, took out the bottle of Billecart he found. ‘Yep, here it is, and I think I’ll join you. Now scoot the two of you, I’ll bring the drinks out to the terrace.’
‘That’s a good idea.’ Jean-Claude took hold of Tessa’s hand and drew her across the kitchen floor. ‘Don’t worry about the food, Gérard will attend to it in a moment,’ he said to her.
A side door led out to the terrace which ran along the back of the house, and Jean-Claude and Tessa walked over to a group of chairs casually arranged around an old wrought-iron coffee table painted white.
‘What a truly beautiful evening it is tonight, Tess,’ he murmured, as they sat down together. ‘I am so glad we left Paris when we did; there’s nothing like a summer evening in the country. I must admit, I do forget how lovely Clos-Fleuri is when I’m away from it.’
‘It is lovely here, and I agree with you, it was a good idea to leave Paris tonight. It’s a pretty name, Clos-Fleuri…it means field flower, doesn’t it?’
‘Exactly. When I found the house it was called that. It was terribly neglected, a broken-down old place, but my sister Marie-Laure helped me to bring it back to life. You will meet her tomorrow, she is coming to lunch with her husband.’
‘I can’t wait,’ Tessa said, smiling inwardly. She wanted to know as much about him as she could, and his sister would certainly offer a few more clues.
Tessa settled back comfortably in the chair, looking up at the sky. It was a very deep blue now and a few stars had already come out. They were extremely clear and bright, seemed so close to the earth she felt as though she could reach up and pluck one down. The gardens surrounding the house were quiet; the only sounds she could hear were the rustling of the trees under the light breeze, and a strange noise she couldn’t quite place.
Glancing at Jean-Claude she asked, ‘What’s that odd sound?’
‘Les grenouilles… the frogs…in the pond at the edge of the lawn.’
‘Of course, I knew it sounded familiar. There’s a frog pond at my mother’s house in Yorkshire.’
Gérard came out onto the terrace and said, ‘Monsieur, s’il vous plaît, c’est le téléphone pour vous.’
‘Oh. Excuse me,’ Jean-Claude murmured, and got up.
Tessa closed her eyes, let herself drift with her thoughts while he went inside. Had she ever felt so peaceful? So complete and content? She doubted it. There had never been much peace with Mark Longden. He was always rushing around like a whirling dervish, restless, forever in a panic. Nothing had ever pleased him. She could do no right. Nor did he ever stop to think…about anything; he had no idea what was going on in the world, so self-involved was he. She couldn’t wait to be free, a divorced woman.
Lorne and Jean-Claude came walking along the terrace talking. She sat up, took the glass of water from Jean-Claude as he handed it to her.
The three of them clinked glasses and as he sat down Lorne said, ‘
You know, I’ve been meaning to ask you something, Jean-Claude. Why did you call your book Warriors, using the English word rather than the French?’
‘It struck me that warriors sounded better and it has such a good ring to it…I think it is more descriptive, so does the publisher, and everyone does know what warrior means. Don’t you think it is more international than querrier, the French word?’
‘I do. And you’re right, it works in any language.’
Jumping into the conversation, Tessa said, ‘Earlier today I asked you why you cover wars, put yourself in danger, but you know you didn’t really answer me. So…why do you, Jean-Claude?’
‘Most probably because I like to be where the action is. Also I have been doing it for many years, since I was young. In a way I think of myself as a war reporter.’
‘But those wars you covered were hellish,’ she said softly.
‘All war is hell, Tessa, and yet we keep going to war.’ He shook his head and a small sigh escaped. For a split second he looked perturbed, but he threw it off, then continued, ‘Will we never learn? I suppose not, unless man undergoes a radical change in his nature which I consider most unlikely. War seems to be…an integral part of this planet, and I never stop wondering why that is so. I have the need to understand this and understand myself and understand the human race, I think that is why I keep constantly testing myself.’
A small silence settled over the three of them and no one spoke.
Jean-Claude finally cleared his throat, forced a light laugh. ‘Enough of war. Let us relax here and count our blessings.’ He turned his head, looked at Tessa, and added, ‘Unexpected blessings.’
She smiled at him.
Lorne thought: It has worked between them. I knew they were right for each other. And he smiled to himself in the twilight, knowing he had done the right thing in bringing them together.
Before she could stop herself, Tessa blurted out, ‘I shall worry about you if you go off to cover another war.’
Jean-Claude did not respond. Instead he took her hand in his, brought it to his mouth, kissed it. And he continued to hold it as he launched into a discussion about the film Lorne would be starring in. He was still holding her hand when Gérard came to tell them supper was ready to be served.