Dark Oil (33 page)

He buttoned up his jacket, the crisp air sending a chill up his spine. He looked at Lara's shimmering hair cascading down past her shoulders, her feminine curves, her lithe walk. She was a goddess to him and he was nothing but a colleague to her. She was turning her back on him in every possible way and it was eating away at him, destroying his soul.

He made the decision there and then. If she showed no interest in him during this trip, if she made him understand there was no chance for them, when he got back to
Australia he'd resign. He'd leave Global Oil and move far away, to forget Lara and start again.

He couldn't go on dreaming, waiting and being kept at a safe distance. He couldn't go on hoping, day after day, night after night, that something would change.

He just couldn't go on like this. It hurt too much.

The offices of Hubert et Dubois were in a
hôtel particulier
, a 19
^th
century mansion of the grandest kind, right in the heart of Paris. Lara admired its stone façade, with its intricate carvings, elaborate wrought iron balconies and slate roof.

Inside it was as luxurious as she'd imagined. Rich mouldings decorated the walls and ruby red carpets defined key areas of the honey-coloured parquetry floors. Gleaming crystal chandeliers sparkled as they lit up the soaring ceilings. If only she wasn't so worried about her mother, she'd be able to enjoy all of this so much more.

The receptionist buzzed Mr Dubois as soon as they arrived. Within seconds he appeared, his hand outstretched, greeting them with a smile.

“Madame Beckham, Monsieur Norton, how do you do?” His French accent was thick but there was music to it.

“Please, call me Lara.”

“And I'm Jack. It's a pleasure.”

“Oh, certainly. I am Jean.” He straightened his already impeccable jacket.

Jack tried repeating Mr Dubois' first name but it came out more like John.

Mr Dubois frowned. “Jean,” he corrected, emphasising the nasal sound. “Please come in.”

His office was lined with paintings worthy of an art museum. Lara guessed they were not reproductions. She and Jack sat on the leather lounge at one end of the ballroom sized office, while Jean fell into an armchair facing them.

“First of all I would like to say I am very pleased to be acting for Global Oil.” The French legal expert crossed his legs. “Your company has a reputation which is the envy of all the big players and I am honoured you picked me to represent you. Of course, we are the right experts for you. Here are some of our credentials.”

He handed them a brochure each before continuing. “I have examined the documents you sent to me. I can say to you today that there is an action we can commence. It is an administrative low action for the title to be restored.”

Jack raised his eyebrows. “An administrative
low
?”

Jack seemed to be having a lot of trouble with Jean's accent. She helped him out. “An action in administrative law.” She pursed her lips, trying not to giggle. Even though she couldn't give into it, it felt good. She hadn't had the urge to laugh since she'd found Tim in the bathroom with that predator, Frankie. Jean tilted his head and moved his chest forward, something between a nod and a bow. “Thank you, Madame. It is what we call a
recours gracieux
, or gracious recourse in English. We request the President reconsider his position, but without commencing a formal action through the courts. It is something that exists under our administrative law, too.” He looked Jack in the eye.

“So is that like just writing him a letter?” Jack seemed puzzled.

“No, Monsieur. I will give my esteemed colleague here all the information relating to the technicalities of the legal action. But it is not just a letter. There are numerous rules. We must, for example, refute any wrongdoing by Global Oil. And there are deadlines. I will prepare it so that it complies with these rules.”

Lara smiled. “Thank you. I'd like to see it before it is sent.”

“Of course, Madame. The President will have two months to respond to the
recours
. During that time the clock will stop running so you cannot be out of time to lodge a formal claim in court, if the informal recourse does not succeed. If the President does not reinstate the title or he does not respond we must then consider an action in the Supreme Court.”

Suddenly Jean sprung to his feet. It quickly became apparent to Lara it was so he could gesticulate more as he explained the ins and outs of an action in the Negalese Supreme Court. He waved his arms around more like an octopus than a lawyer.

After half an hour during which Jack frowned and stared at Lara more than a dozen times, Jean settled back in the armchair. Jack uncrossed his arms and let them fall into his lap. It was such a relief the lesson was over.

Most of it had been obtuse for Jack, at best. Sometimes he'd wondered whether any of it had been in English. Luckily, he could rely on Lara. She seemed to understand not just the jargon, not just the convoluted legal concepts but, amazingly, Jean Dubois' accent.

Jack could really do with someone like her in his company, the one he was hoping to set up. What a difference she would make! But then, on a personal level, it would be agony. To see that beautiful face, to watch that gracious body, if he could not have her, would be Hell day and night.

The signals she was giving him were loud and clear. She wasn't interested in his lips. She didn't even want to socialise with him. Clearly, she had other things on her mind. That was the very reason why he'd decided to leave Global Oil and get away from Lara.

Yet somewhere, at the bottom of his heart, there was a niggling hope. Perhaps he had got it all wrong. Perhaps there was a future for him and Lara after all. If only that were the case, he'd be the happiest man in the world.

“Do you agree, Jacques?” Jean questioned.

Jack jumped, realising he must have been day-dreaming. He glanced at Lara.

“You might be right, Jean.” Her eyes glazed over.

The Frenchman now had an air of wisdom about him. “It is not often that life offers you a chance to start afresh. As I said, a new beginning is a gift. An absolute gift.”

“I agree entirely.” Jack guessed Jean was talking about the new Negalese government, but his sentence applied perfectly to the situation in which he and Lara found themselves.

Yes, a new beginning with him instead of more of the same with Tim. Could Lara see what a gift that would be? The thought of it had him longing for her again, wanting to kiss her perfect neck, to hold her in his arms. It had him dreaming of asking her to stay with him. Forever. The idea caught Jack by surprise, just as Lara tilted her head towards his. He had to turn away.

Jean nodded. “I am glad we are in agreement. It makes a lot of sense to negotiate with the government, especially since many of the previous government's ministers have now been jailed.”

“Jailed?” Lara was surprised. She thought most would have been dismissed, not imprisoned.

“You have not heard? Of course, you were travelling. Ministers Hamed, Mahoul, Cheikhed, Abila and the Minister for Forestry, his name escapes me. All charged with corruption. Others have disappeared. Maybe the lucky ones. Maybe the unlucky. Time will tell.”

Lara rubbed her chin. With Hamed out of the picture it was a different ball game. The new government could turn out just as corrupt as the previous one, and more
dictatorial, but there was still a good chance it wouldn't. “I'm more and more convinced we should try to negotiate with the new government, as you suggested, instead of fighting to reinstate the title through the judicial system.”

“In that case, I'd like to commence discussions with the new government on your behalf today.”

“Please do that. It seems the best option right now. What about starting the
recours gracieux
at the same time?

Jean shook his head. “It may hinder talks with the new government.”

“I understand.” Lara bit her lip as she thought of just how complex and difficult the matter was. She sighed. It was exactly what her life had become. Complex, difficult and risky. That's how it appeared to her. She didn't just mean work. Sure, that fell within the description, but it also extended to her personal life. Her mother was waiting to hear if she had cancer again. If she did, Lara knew all too well it wouldn't be an easy ride. There were no guarantees of success with the treatment. Just thinking about what would happen if she didn't make it through made Lara nauseous. She saw a Christmas tree without a present under it for her mother, she saw a birthday party without Susan. It seemed impossible. It didn't make sense.

And then, there were men. Her relationship with Tim had turned out not only difficult but also utterly unfulfilling. After what he'd done to her would she ever again be brave enough to go out on a limb for love? She wasn't sure, although she couldn't help the butterflies she felt every time Jack looked at her.

She glanced sideways at her colleague. He was as attractive as ever. His square jaw, his soft lips, seemed to be waiting for her caress. There was no doubt about it, he made her heart beat faster. She imagined the silkiness of his skin, remembered his warm, musky scent. She could lose herself in him. That was definitely too risky. He was a womaniser, after all, she reminded herself. He'd stolen Ange from Martin. It was what Martin said, and Jack had never denied it. If she was going to give herself to a man again, it wouldn't be to one with a propensity to cheat.

“Is there?” asked Jean.

Lara jumped. How long had she been day-dreaming? It wasn't like her. She really had to get a grip on things. “I'm sorry. It must be the jet-lag. You were saying?”

“Ah, jet-lag. I understand. As I was saying, I will prepare the written advice for you. In the meantime, is there anything I can do to make your stay in Paris more pleasurable?”

“Not at this stage, thank you. Unless you have any suggestions, Jack?” Jack smiled at her, the dimple she had come to love forming in his left cheek. She softened inside.

“No. Thank you.”

Jean escorted them to the entrance where he helped Lara put on her coat. “I will be in touch as soon as I have spoken to the Negalese government. In the meantime, if there is anything else I can do for you, please do not hesitate.”

They shook hands, exchanging best wishes, and Lara and Jack wandered down the shiny marble stairs and out into the cold Parisian autumn.

“I do, actually,” said Jack once they were outside.

“Sorry?”

“Have a suggestion to make our stay more
pleasurable
. Well, pleasant at least.”

Lara smiled briefly, and he thought, a little awkwardly. He was probably making her uncomfortable again. It wasn't what he wanted, but it was all he seemed to do to her these days.

“What would that be?” she asked rather quietly.

“We could try talking to each other.”

She pursed her lips, turning away briefly. “I know I haven't been good company lately. It's just that. . .”

She searched for words for so long he must have felt he had to help her. “Rough time at home?” he finally asked.

“You could say that.” Her blue eyes, usually soft and warm, now had the steeliness of pain.

Jack and Lara had come to a bridge, a magnificently carved old stone bridge that crossed the Seine River with the majesty no modern one could ever have. Tall, ornate street lamps lined it and benches in curved booth-like alcoves offered rest and recreation to the passer-by. You could sit there on a warm summer night and watch the world go by. The French knew how to live.

He grabbed her hand. “Please, let's sit.” If he didn't do it now, in this beautiful city, while he was alone with Lara, perhaps he never would. If he stuck his neck out, told her exactly how he felt, he might stand a chance. It was worth it, worth every minute of humiliation if she knocked him back. God, she was worth it all. One last try to clarify how she felt and where he stood. He owed that to himself, to Lara, to them.

As he pulled her gently towards a seat her phone rang. Suddenly, she was away again, in a different world, her face transformed the moment she answered. “Hello. So? Really? You're not just saying that for me, are you? Oh, that's the best news!”

She laughed out loud, a laugh that said “I'm on top of the world.” She glanced at Jack and he could see the joy in her pink cheeks, her sparkling eyes. She tossed back her golden mane, lifting her face to the heavens, as if to thank God.

“You have no idea how relieved I am. I'm so happy! I wish I could kiss you right now. We're celebrating when I get back, you know that? In a big way! I love you so much.”

It was over for Jack. Lara and Tim were getting back together. He felt a crushing pressure in his chest. He had to run. He couldn't stay there, listening to her chuckles, her whispers. What a fool he'd been! She was married. She might have gone through a rough patch with Tim, she might have taken off her wedding ring in anger, but she would put it back on. She was married.

“Romance? I, uh, I suppose you never know,” he heard her say next, as she threw him a cheeky glance. Was she teasing him? Showing off with her husband? How awful of her! How could she? Couldn't she tell that it hurt Jack? Couldn't she tell or didn't she care?

“I'll see you at the hotel,” he murmured before bolting like a wild horse. The wind whipped his face and his legs felt detached, as if they didn't belong to him anymore. And what was this? He couldn't believe it! Tears stung his eyes. He held them back. He hadn't cried for years.

He heard the noise of the incessant traffic, saw the sky turn from blue to grey in an instant. Paris was suddenly harsh and cold, big and lonely. He wished he were home.

“Wait!” Lara screamed at the top of her voice. What had got into him? Jack had taken off without warning. She couldn't understand it. One minute he wanted to talk to her, the next he didn't. But the dread inside her had lifted since the phone call she'd been agonising over. She could see things clearly now.