La Vie en Bleu (14 page)

I shook my head. My stomach swirled like it was ready to make a
bid for freedom.

“What did you say?” Rebecca sounded irritated.

“I tell her of Vivienne.” Babs sounded defiant. “And Raquel.”

“Why?” Rebecca asked. “What good does that do anyone?”

Uh oh, Rebecca sounded mad. Swallow, you daft clot, why couldn’t I
swallow!

“Good?” Babs snapped. “Maybe she will see sense and stop this
nonsense.”

“Pip has the right to be insane if she wants.”

Insane? Wow, thanks. I would have said something but every time I
regained my breath, the name Raquel Rocher pulsed into my head. The way she’d
smiled at me with such patience, like I amused her. Had she just been biding
her time? Waiting for Berne to stop fooling around with me? Had Berne felt the
same way?

“You admit that this is crazy?”

“Yeah, I do. They should be married and all domesticated. It’s not
my place to demand she stop messing around and get to it already.”

Babs burst out with laughter. “I knew that I liked you.”

Rebecca’s incoherent mumbling reached my ears above the ringing
racket of my own pulse.

Calm . . . calm . . .

“
Ça va
?
” Berne’s voice only made the inability to swallow rage into
desperate sobbing breaths.

I covered my eyes to try and fend off the pulsing lights. Rebecca
mumbled something about a paper bag and a second or two later one was stuck to
my face.

“What did you say?” Berne’s voice filled with angst.

It didn’t matter. Even the sound of her voice now made everything
worse. I wanted to explode into tears but couldn’t. Instead I shuddered my
breaths in and out, trying to hold the paper bag over my mouth and nose. It
smelled of peppermint. I hated peppermint.

“She told her about Vivienne
and
Raquel.” Rebecca sounded
livid. “Now she’s hyperventilating.”

“You could not keep it secret from her.” Babs was again defiant.
“My little English melon here is passionate in her defence.”

“That’s because my little French pinball had all the tact of a
bulldozer when she did it.”

That was cue for them to start bickering. Were they seriously
flirting? Now?

“Wait in the vehicle.” Berne cut everyone to silence with her
tone.

I heard them bicker some more as they trundled off to the truck.
Berne sat down beside me. She waited until my breathing calmed enough for me to
pull the bag away.

“It is something I do not wish to talk about with you.”

“I’m not surprised.” Ooh, I was mad. That was better, I could
swallow when mad.

“You have no right to be angry with me.”

“Well, suck it up because I am.” I got to my feet, too quickly,
and stars popped before my eyes. “I’m mad at you. In fact . . . stuff your
flipping Ardèche.”

I went to stomp off only for Berne to wrap her arms around me from
behind. She buried her head in my shoulder. “You are marrying some rich man.
You left me.”

“I know I did . . . I don’t care . . . Raquel Rocher . . . that’s
. . . that’s worse than revenge . . . that’s . . .” I flapped my arms about,
unable to stomp off and unwilling to give in to the gentle custody of her arms.
“You suck . . . you . . . I can’t believe you—”

“I did. I do.” Berne held on tighter. “You left.”

“You said that you were just friends. You said you didn’t feel a
thing for her when I met her.” Sudden thoughts of betrayal burst through my
mind. “You used to stay at her place.”

“I was never unfaithful to you.” Berne turned me around so I could
see the truth in her eyes. “You left me. She was there for me. There was no
reason not to explore our feelings.”

The visual of Berne being drooled over by Raquel made my entire
body ache. Raquel was there to console her? Oh I bet she was.

“You swore you didn’t feel anything for her. You swore it.”

Oh crap. I felt like someone had ripped out the foundations from
under me. There was Berne acting like she’d pined away. Hah. Raquel. If she’d
left Raquel for Vivienne, what did Vivienne look like? What chance did a
babbling idiot like me have against them? I was a fool. A fool to think she’d
seen only me.

“Things changed. You left.” Berne’s irritated tone cut even
deeper.

A clarity washed over me. Somehow the fact seemed to make a
calmness settle inside.

“We’re done.”

I broke free of Berne’s grasp and walked to the truck. “I’ll find
someone else to guide me.”

“I will do as promised. I will.”

“Pip, we’ll never get another guide now.” Rebecca looked like she
wanted to plead for my forgiveness. She must have known what I was up against
with Vivienne since they went to Marseille. Well, we were even on hiding
secrets now.

Raquel Rocher.

I wanted to throw up.

“Fine. I’ll take
you
in the kayak.”

Berne said nothing. In fact no one dared utter a word to me as I
snatched the keys off Berne and drove us to our starting point.

Of all the people in the world to sleep with, Berne found the one
who could make the most impact on me. Logically, what reason did I have to be
angry when I’d left her? What gave me the right to be livid about some friend
from the past? Why wouldn’t Berne fall for her?

I wasn’t sure if I was angrier at Raquel for daring to touch Berne
or Berne for being so calculated.

Then Babs’s words popped into my head. She’d split up with Raquel.
She was with Vivienne who took advantage of her. Vivienne who hurt her and made
her cry. That sucked even more.

I wanted to run back to Doug and away from all the hurt. I wanted
to run to him and make it clear just to hurt Berne back.

I was such a child.

“You taking the front or the back?”

Somehow we’d gotten to the river and I’d gotten my flotation vest
on. I’d carried the kayak down to the river with Rebecca too. “Back.”

Rebecca didn’t argue. Berne and Babs got into the kayak in front
and stowed the water and camping gear on board.

“You ready?” Babs was looking straight at me, all I could do was
nod at her. She’d told me the moment she knew I hadn’t been told.

The two women who
supposedly
loved me hadn’t even bothered.

Well, I knew where I stood now and it felt pretty lonely.

MOST OF THE day passed by in silence. Babs and Berne were chatting
quietly in their kayak but I centred myself on looking up at the green broccoli
chunks of trees that hung over the craggy rocks. I adored the Ardèche and the
sloshing of my paddle in the river. It was one of the most beautiful places I
had ever been to. The cliffs on either side soared up into endless blue. Bird
calls, insects, nature sang every second. In a little wooden or fibreglass boat
it felt as though the stress of life was a million miles away. Out here it was
as it always had been.

Life meandered on, bouncing and bubbling
over the rocks, sweeping around bends and snaking around ancient pillars of
stone. Up on the hills, little villages were somewhere beyond the trees,
ancient structures and monasteries. There were prehistoric caves, Roman arches,
forts, farms, people who lived in the same way generations before them had.
Down here, on the winding river, I felt connected to it, rooted by it. I was
one person passing through.

By evening we were at the first campsite. Our kayaks pulled up
alongside. The beaches were pebbled and no one was allowed to camp on them
unless they did something like sleep under the stars. Of course, sometimes the
locals chose to ignore such things but Berne didn’t. So we trudged up the slope
in silence. Silence so thick it felt like a rain cloud or maybe I was the
donkey from Winnie the Pooh. Tigger? No he was the bouncy tiger, Piglet was the
pig in a jumper . . . Anyway, I felt like the gloomy one with a stick-on tail. 

Berne, Babs, and Rebecca sat around the gas stove while I chose to
erect my tent. It would take me much longer because I didn’t have any idea how
to do it but, boy, was I going to.

“You need to eat.” It was Berne.

I nodded in her direction and carried on. I pulled out all the
stuff from the pouch. Who knew you needed so many ropes. What were they even
for? I put the ropes back and pulled out a few poles. Here went nothing.

“I have it here for you.”

Stuff your food, is what I wanted to say. Instead, I nodded.

“It’s going to get cold if you do not eat it.”

Like I would care. I clicked another pole into place. My tent
looked more like a wigwam. Hmmm . . .

“I forgave you.” She placed the food down on a nearby rock. “All I
ask is the same.”

“Why? You’re still going to sleep with Vivienne.” Fury rumbled up
from inside me. “You’re still going to carry on . . .”

I snapped another pole into place. It was too numbing to put into
words. My hands shook with the rage.

“You are still going to marry a man. A man who you sleep with?”
Berne’s voice pulsed with her own anger. “You have no right to judge me when
you caused this. You did this to us both.”

“Because you would have said no to Vivienne?” I shoved another
pole in. Now it looked like I’d taken up cubism.

“I would have told her no everytime, always.” Berne’s voice was
quiet but her words were clear. “Vivienne is not and will
never
be you.”
She looked up to the stars and huffed out a breath.

“Yet you let her treat you like you are nothing.” The sheer force
of my own rage shocked me. I was far angrier that Berne was being hurt by
someone. I was angrier that Berne was hurting. How did that make sense? “You’re
better than someone’s mistress.”

“Am I?”

I looked at Berne, wondering if she’d gone loopy. “You think
I
treated
you with such contempt?”

“
Oui
. When you leave and not tell me why. Why did you leave
and return with a man’s ring on your finger?”

I turned and glared at her. “I
don’t
love him.”

Said very loudly, the words echoed back off the rocks around us. A
confirmation of something it had taken me to say, to realise. Oh
merde
.
I didn’t love him. At least I wasn’t
in
love with him.

Berne glared back at me. “And I do not love her.”

“So then why aren’t you together yet?”

We both looked at Rebecca who threw her hands in the air.

“You’re both going round and round. Get to the good stuff
already.”

“She has a point,” Babs said, handing Rebecca a drink.

“This isn’t a democracy. I made a promise, Berne made a promise.”

I slotted in another pole. “I broke her heart and she’ll never get
over that.”

Click, the pole fitted together. I swished it through the fabric
opening.

“I’m marrying Doug, she’s with Vivienne. We made promises to other
people. Neither of us will go back on those promises no matter how much it
hurts.” I shook my head. “I trusted her with Raquel. I can’t get over that.”

Click, click, swish.

“We messed it up. Move on.”

The pain in Berne’s eyes was agonising to look at but she nodded.
“Perhaps our chance faded long ago.”

“Yes.”

Rebecca looked like she wanted to cry and Babs was no better.

“We can finish the trip if you want to, then I’m going home.” I
shoved the pole through another piece of fabric.

Rebecca and Babs nodded, sloping off.

Berne stared long and hard into my eyes until finally adding her
own nod. “Let us make it a good one,
oui
.”

“You’re the guide.” I tried to smile but I felt too tired to lift
the necessary muscles.

It was why the past needed to be left where it belonged. Why I
needed to grow up and start acting like a sane adult instead of a love-struck
teenager.

“Is there any way you can fix this stupid tent?”

Berne shook her head. “I cannot.”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

She walked past and tapped the tent with her hand, managing a
small smile. “I cannot fix it because it is perfect.”

I looked at my tent and could see that she was right. “Wow, that’s
. . . that’s . . . lucky.”

“Not luck. Just what is inside showing through.” Berne turned and
walked away, but I still caught her whispered words. “I will miss that.”

Chapter Twelve

IT WAS A clear, calm night. The stars twinkled above and the wind
was, for once, conspicuous in its absence. It was no surprise that many felt
Van Gogh had cut off his ear not because of the argument but due to
le vent.

The wind wasn’t the only thing that seemed to drive people to
madness. Berne stared up at the stars overhead, trying to fight back the tears.

This was cruel, so very cruel to suffer. Of course, it was Babs’s
plan to tell Pippa that she and Raquel had been more. It would give Pippa a
chance to find herself while staying separated from Berne. It hurt that Pippa
would think she would ever even consider it, that she bought the lies.

Raquel Rocher could have begged on her hands and knees, Berne
could have loved her dearly but her loyalty to Pippa would still have made her
say no. She swore to Pippa she had never felt that way and it had been the
truth.

It was almost amusing to think that Pippa believed it at all.
Raquel had been a close friend back then. She had been there for Berne. Now,
she was married with three sons and their friendship had become more distant.
Her husband was a sweet man. A handsome man. Berne liked him. It was a shame
they were not as close as they’d once been. Raquel had been the first to warn
her away from Vivienne but Berne had been too empty to listen. 

“How are you holding up there?”

Berne offered Rebecca a smile but it was half hearted. Deceiving
Pippa, even if it was in a bid to help her, went against every instinct that
she had.

“She really socked it to you, huh?”

“Would you expect her to do any less?”

Rebecca shook her head and took a seat on a chair opposite. The
campsite, just back from the river, was nothing but a clearing with a bench.
“Did get her to put up her tent in some shape though.” She thumbed in the
direction. “I didn’t think pitching a tent so close to the stream was okay.”

“It isn’t.” Berne poked the pot of boiling water. The stream was
actually a small waterfall that slid down the rocks behind, over the rocks and
pebbles and dropped off the edge into the Ardèche. “I will move it later.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t.”

Berne met Rebecca’s eyes. “Pardon?”

“Don’t move it just tell her it’s going to flood.” Rebecca smiled.
“You and Doug . . . even me, we all do it . . . we don’t want to hurt her.”

Rebecca was right. Pippa was such a sweet person, a kind person
that often she made Berne want to protect her, to make everything perfect for
her. Was there such a thing as being smothered by kindness?

Pippa was not useless or unable to cope or lacking in
intelligence. No wonder it felt to her as though she didn’t know herself. Who
would when everyone treated her like a child?

Berne got up and walked over to Pippa, who sat in front of her
tent organising her sleeping bag.

“Although the water is not reaching here, the ground underneath is
wet.”

Pippa looked from her to the tent and back. “I’ll get soggy if I
stay there?”

Berne nodded.

“Where is best?”

Gone was the anger from earlier in the night. Pippa looked as
though she had decided that calm was far better than rage. That only made the
feeling of separation worse. It was a risk to lie, a risk that could see Pippa
fade into the distance.

“Berne?”

“
Oui
.” She stared at the bank behind, trailing over the
available space, and tried not to let the wry smile show on her face.

“Next to mine.” Babs had pitched hers and Rebecca’s, leaving only
enough space for Pippa to pitch next to her. They were co-conspirators in
almost everything it seemed.

“Oh.”

Berne didn’t miss the quick intake of breath or Pippa’s long neck
flexing with her swallow.

“I can move them if you wish to be away from me.”

Pippa’s “don’t be ridiculous” look made Berne smile inside. The
affirmation that she was not hated threatened to break through. Pippa’s eyes
flicked to and fro until she sighed and got to her feet.

“I don’t know how to move it.”

Berne stopped herself from doing it for her. “You lift it up and
carry it.”

Pippa frowned. “Isn’t that hard when it has pegs and—” She turned
and groaned loudly. She picked up the bag still full of pegs. “That would have
been clever.”

“Perhaps you knew you would need to move,
oui
?” Berne
picked up Pippa’s rucksack and sleeping bag. She was trying to stand back but
not helping at all was too hard.

“So, will it be wet now?” Pippa picked up her tent, jabbing
herself in the shoulder with a pole and wincing. She was so adorable. “How do I
dry it out?”

“It should not have been affected yet. You did not enter it?”

Pippa shook her head, colliding tent with the slope in front. She
was
beyond
adorable. Berne caught herself smiling at the grumpy
muttering, loving the sound of the soft English tones.

“You on the move there, Pip?” Rebecca, forever watchful, wandered
over. “You’d make a terrible Ninja Turtle.”

“Cowa-flipping-bunga,” Pippa grunted as she tried to head up the
slope. The tent poked her in the rib cage this time. “Is there a wall or what?”

“If you count a load of pebbles, then yeah. Try lifting it up,
cloth-head.”

Berne clamped her lips shut at Rebecca’s taunt. That was one way
to make Pippa pay attention.

“You wha—? Oh. Right.”

Perhaps Pippa was insulted often because she seemed immune to
being called such names. She followed Rebecca’s advice and ascended the slope
with ease, dropped her tent in place, and grinned.

“See, I got it.”

Berne looked at Rebecca and shrugged.

“You want to crawl through the bushes?” Rebecca asked.

Pippa frowned. “No, why would I want to do that?”

Berne and Rebecca both looked at the tent, hoping that Pippa would
realise.

“I don’t get it . . . what?” Pippa looked from the tent to them
and put her hands on her hips. “Why bushes?”

Rebecca walked to her and motioned to the tent dramatically. “Take
a good look. What do you see?”

“Nothing.” Pippa bit her lip. “I know I need pegs, right?”

“Well, yeah, but before you go there. What is missing here?”
Rebecca once again motioned to what was obvious.

Babs, who had been working in her tent, poked her head out. “
Ça va
?”

“Rebecca and Pepe are in conference,” Berne said.

Babs smiled and clambered out to watch as Rebecca and Pippa
continued.

“Come on, Pip . . . seriously?”

Pippa waved her hands in the air. “I don’t get it. It looks like
it did down there. It was fine down there.”

“What obvious thing isn’t?” Rebecca was worked up by Pippa’s lack
of observation skills. It was funny, too funny. Berne clamped her lips shut and
smiled at Babs as she stifled her laugh.

“I’m not an expert. I don’t know.” Pippa slunk onto one hip in a
way that made Berne bite back the groan.

There was something about the way she did that. Something about
the way she looked under the stars, her hair falling free from its band, her
lip pulled to one side as she chewed on it.

Rebecca placed her hand on the top of the tent. “You don’t need to
be an expert. Why don’t you test it out? Maybe it’ll twig.”

Pippa blinked a few times and then shrugged. She pulled her hair
out of her face as she always did in preparation for some task.

“Okay.”

She knelt down and reached out to the fabric. She ran her fingers
over it then hung her head. The chuckle rumbled through her shoulders.

“I mean there’s dumb, then there’s dumb,” Rebecca shot at her,
flashing a grin at Babs.

Pippa got up and rolled the upside down tent upright and then
lifted it around so there was now a door. “How did they let me out?”

Her smile and laughter lit up her face. It lit up the air around
her and lifted Berne’s heart. Pippa’s eyes twinkled as she beamed in Berne’s
direction. She blew the hair out of her face.

Berne brought over the sleeping bag and rucksack. Pippa looked
invigorated and oh so alive.

“Survival one-oh-one. Make sure you don’t pitch where you’ll get
soaked,” Pippa said, tapping it out on her hand.

“
Oui
.”

“Second, make sure your tent is the
right
way up.” Her
slender, long fingers flicked out. She had the hands of an artist.

Berne tried and failed to suppress the chuckle. “It is important,
oui
.”

“Third, make sure said tent is facing the right way.” Pippa grinned
and reached out for her things. “See, this camping stuff is a doddle.”

Pippa clambered into her tent to stow her things away. Berne knelt
down beside the doorway. “There is one other thing I think you may find
useful.”

“There is?” Pippa clomped around until she was facing her, hair
flopping into her face at will.

Berne fought the urge to brush it from her eyes. “
Oui
.”

“What?”

Berne lifted up her hand and rattled the bag full of pegs.

“Ah, foiled.” Pippa reached out for the bag.

“
Oui
.” She held on as Pippa touched her hand. It was good
just to feel her touch. Good just to be near, this near. Memories taunted her
with how close she had been once.

“I don’t suppose you’d show me what I’m doing
with them?”

Relieved that Pippa was finally letting her help, Berne smiled.
“With pleasure. Every adventurer needs a guide,
non
?”

She enjoyed the blush that elicited from Pippa. It was good to
know that she wasn’t the only one with those memories.

MORNING ECHOED WITH the sound of birdcalls. It would be a beautiful
day. The scent of summer filled the air as Berne set out breakfast.

“Did you fix the problem?” Berne asked Babs as she wandered over
in search of black coffee.

Babs had been very much distracted by something all evening,
spending large amounts of time secluded in her tent.

“I think so but I am not sure if the client will approve.”

“
Non
?” Berne handed her the coffee.

“He wants a little boy’s room but I think he will find it more
useful as a sauna. His space could be placed somewhere less . . . obtrusive.”

“I think that he likes to be so.” Berne looked up as Rebecca
wandered over and threw her the sun cream. “
Bonjour
.”

“Thanks.” Rebecca caught the cream. “What’s up?”

“Babs wishes to move Doug’s room to a more secluded place.”

Rebecca laughed then stopped laughing when she realised Babs was
serious. “Doug won’t do that. Doug doesn’t do compromise.”

“I ask this once again,” Babs said. “Why is she with him?”

Berne watched Rebecca put the sun cream on. She took her time,
Berne guessed, to calculate an answer that would appease while staying loyal to
Pippa.

“Well, we’d been in the firm for a couple of years when Doug’s
people hired us.”

She lathered the cream on her arms. Her tattoos covered by the
white goop. Berne noted Babs was riveted to the action.

“Doug was . . . and is . . . a cool guy. He was suave and he’s a
hunk. He pretty much made it clear that he wanted Pip.”

“He pursued her?” Babs’s lips parted as Rebecca splodged cream on
her neck and shoulders.

Berne shook her head, concentrating on the food.

“Yeah, I mean Pip seemed to like him enough. I thought that was
just her way. It wasn’t until I saw her around Berne that I—” Rebecca smiled.

“
Ça va
?” Babs was leaning forward, avid in her concentration as
Rebecca’s hands stopped their motion.

“Well, it was then I saw how love became her.”

“He does not see her true worth,” Berne said, jabbing at the food.
Still, she couldn’t help but smile with the observation. It was good to know
that even when Pippa was with this man, he had been far from her heart.

Rebecca “mmm’d” her agreement as she slapped the cream on her
legs.

Berne took the tipping coffee cup out of Babs’s hands as she
drooled. “Why is she loyal if he is not so good to her?”

“He’s a good guy.” Rebecca ran her hands over her thighs,
oblivious to Babs. “A dense guy, who doesn’t know that Pip
isn’t
playing
hard to get. I have the impression that he thinks the moment they’re married
that she will melt into his arms.”

The visual memories of Pippa doing just that in her own embrace
made Berne’s body pulse. Was it wrong to enjoy the fact that she had seen such
a transformation and he hadn’t?