La Vie en Bleu (25 page)

“We gotta go. Taxi is outside.” Rebecca waved at the door.

I glanced down at my watch. Balls. We’d be lucky to get to the
airport in time. I grabbed my coat off the chair. It caught my water glass. It
clunked to the table, gushing liquid all over Gino’s lovely white tablecloth.

“Gino, I–”

“It is nothing.” He took hold of my shoulders with his puffy
hands. “Catch your plane. If you come to London, you come here to eat.” He
gripped me in a rib-switching hug and gave me a smacker on both cheeks.

I nodded. Dumbstruck. Had Rebecca and I been such great customers?
We did have a lot of takeaways . . .

“Pip!”

“Right.” I offered Gino a smile as I followed Berne out into the
belting rain.

Rebecca and Babs were already inside the taxi. Berne handed them
their coats and I slumped down next to her and hauled the door shut.

“Good thing we booked a taxi. It’s bucketing down.” I glanced at
Berne, wanting to be alone, wanting to hear what she’d wished to say.
Pepe,
I cannot—

Cannot what? What couldn’t she do or say? It worried me. In fact,
it terrified me. What if it was that she couldn’t be with me? What if I’d got
it all wrong? What if I’d imagined it? If the night on the Ardèche had just
been a trip down memory lane? Oh no, hyperventilating was not a good idea. I
gripped my knees, hoping no one would notice. Berne had said she loved me,
right? Didn’t she? She said she wanted it to be her ring on my finger?

“Didn’t fancy missing the flight. Babs has to go to Marseille
tomorrow.” Rebecca poked out her bottom lip in a pout. Her tone said that she
was hoping we’d miss the flight. If I wasn’t panicking, I would have smiled. Go
Whitely.

“I will be back after the party,
d’accord
?” Babs nuzzled
the side of Rebecca’s neck.

I glanced at Berne. Her eyes met mine. The rain peppered the
windows, orange, white lights of the streetlamps, scent of damp, of her
perfume. The flash of headlights bathed her face. There was a seriousness about
her that unsteadied me. The way she was fiddling with that ring wasn’t helping
much either.

“What party?” I mumbled.

Her eyes locked on mine. She wet her lips. I was riveted to them
as they glistened.

“Vivienne’s birthday,” Babs muttered. Her plaintive tone more
likely for Rebecca than me.

My heart gave a heavy thud. Berne’s eyes flickered with regret. My
stomach crunched.

“Right.” I tore my gaze from her and riveted it to the rainy
London night outside. What had I expected? That she loved me enough to leave
her? Did she only love me enough as fun, as a mistress of some sort? Is that
what she’d been trying to say? I was good for her when she was young but now
she was responsible. Vivienne was more in line with what she wanted. Why
would
she leave her?

Vivienne was a successful actress. She may have been a
cradle-robbing-no-teeth-shallow-viper but Berne loved her, didn’t she?

She was going to Vivienne’s birthday. Even though Babs supposedly
hated her, she was going too. She was happy to leave me behind.

Berne touched my knee. “Pepe—” 

“You don’t owe any explanation to me.” My tone said she did and
why had she gone and uprooted my life if she wasn’t going to do the same?

A thought poked me, reminding me that I’d only just left Doug,
that she’d endured seeing me with him. That I’d left her. Maybe it was payback?

I told the thought to go take a hike. I didn’t care how silly or
stupid I was. I’d assumed Berne would leave Vivienne the second I had left Doug
and wait patiently, alone, until I was ready for her.

I expected her to . . . woo me. Was that even a real word? Who
cared? I wanted that. I wanted romance. I wanted her to enrapture me. I wanted
her to ignite that adventure in me. I wanted her to grip hold of me and demand
I kiss her and stop her torment. Why was that too much to ask for, huh?

“I will be home after this,” Berne said in a gentle tone. Because
that
would make me feel better wouldn’t it. I glanced around, wondering if there was
a paper bag. The thought of Berne with anyone else made me a wreck.

“Wish her a happy birthday from me,
friend
.” My mood
riddled my words.

Berne flinched.

“What time is the electrician coming tomorrow?” I focused on
Rebecca. My voice crackled as I fought back angry tears.  

Alarm flickered across Rebecca’s eyes. Then they narrowed as she
shot Berne a glare.

“Nine,” she snapped as if wanting to smack Berne across the chops
with her words.

“Julian is very good,” Babs said, her gaze darting from Rebecca to
me. “I use him a lot.”

They started to chat about Julian and his ability as an
electrician. Rebecca’s tone rippled with her redheaded mood. Babs gentle tone
showed she understood and was trying to calm her. Again the entire conversation
was theirs. Berne said nothing. I said nothing.

I thought about getting out of the taxi. I wanted to run through
the rain in some dramatic gesture of how betrayed I felt. Anything not to look
at Berne. If she was going there for Vivi-Viper-Vixen then there’d be the
expectation for romance. A party meant suitable attire. Berne would look as
enticing as always. Viper would look stunning in some gown only actresses could
pull off.

I shuddered. I felt sick.

“Pepe—”

“It’s not like it matters anyway.” I didn’t mean a word of it. “I
don’t have time. We have to get it rewired.”

Babs and Rebecca took over once more. Berne reached for my hand
but I snapped it away and folded my arms. I was half-a-second away from
throwing her ring at her. Something stopped me. Something that made me feel
more pathetic than ever. I couldn’t take the ring off. I didn’t want to. 

Berne’s words that I’d always be safe with her seemed worthless
right now. Safe? I didn’t feel close to safe. I’d gone from contentment to
lurching about in yet another storm. I felt abandoned. In fact, I felt like I’d
been mutinied. She’d broadsided my nice quiet cruise with Doug, convinced me to
make him walk the plank, and now she was getting back onto her own ship and
leaving me to watch on.

I lay my head back and closed my eyes. The silence was heavier
than the crushing feeling of helplessness. Berne was going back to Marseille,
to her.

Chapter Twenty-one

ONE WEEK COULD feel like years. We’d brought back a summer storm
with us which seemed to echo how I felt as Berne and Babs drove away. I’d avoided
looking at them the entire flight. I felt lost. Logic stated that I had told
Berne I wanted to earn back her trust but I hadn’t been prepared to stand aside
and watch Berne carry on with Viper.

Rebecca had kept her thoughts to herself but the irritation with
Berne was evident. She wouldn’t say so to me but it helped that she felt as
confused by Berne leaving as I did. So she’d re-instated DVD nights, talked
about nothing but the house, and chatted to me about Doug’s latest text
message.

Doug was a huge source of comfort. I loved him even more the way
we were now than I had before. He did everything he could to make me laugh.
He’d heard what my mother and Catherine had said and picked holes in them at
every opportunity. The sweet clot thought I was down because of them. He’d
defend me to the hilt, he’d make fun of Berne for me. I missed the numbskull, I
really did.

I’d lay in bed at night, listening to the rain, feeling comforted
by it. Rebecca and I knew rain. We understood rain and cold. They were our
thing. If I closed my eyes and pretended, I could be back in London. This
messy, confusing summer could just be a feverish dream. I could wake up and
banish it and go back to safety, to Doug, to muddling along.

Only I was alone. Alienated from my family, in a foreign country,
pining over a woman who could turn around and tell me she wanted more than I
could give.

It didn’t help that Babs had arrived within days of leaving but
Berne had remained in Marseille. Neither had said a word. Babs couldn’t meet my
eyes. None of it inspired me with confidence.

I said nothing. I didn’t ask. I didn’t care. No, I’d managed to
crawl up from the torment once before, I could do it again. Although I was a
tune away from “I will survive
,”
I’d taken control over my life and been
truthful. Yes, I’d come out of my shell, faced Catherine, and ended up alone
just as I’d feared. Well done, Saunders.

Still, I didn’t care. Nope. I was too busy focusing on the house.
Rebecca, the workmen, and I had made the downstairs liveable. I had learned how
to wire things in French and I’d fixed the stairs.

A “Bonjour,” echoed out somewhere behind me as I sat on the top
step, grappling with the last section. If I wasn’t careful, I’d mess up the
screw head and then where would I be?

“Here,” I mumbled, vaguely aware that I needed to talk for people
to know I’d heard them.

I tightened the final bolts and sat back to admire my handiwork.
My masterpiece looked fabulous. Go, Saunders.

“You work hard. It will be ready soon, for sure.”

I registered that it was Berne speaking, and my heart cantered
into a special happy rhythm then slunk into a pathetic heap. She’d been with
her
.

“It’ll take months. We’re moving into the ground floor next week.”
I didn’t bother speaking French. It was a pathetic act of rebellion but it
stopped me throwing things at her and, boy, did I want to throw things at her.

I’d followed the electrician, Julian, around during the week to
the point where he’d offered to show me how to wire the rooms. I was eager to
learn as much as I could. That way I could do a lot of the work myself.

Doug was subbing the house and the artisans but I wasn’t letting
him pay for the accommodation too. Rebecca had agreed. So in we would move. The
ground floor was watertight so we’d make do.

Who needed traitorous French women anyway? Not me. No way.

“Rebecca feels it will be sooner?”

“Rebecca is a saleswoman. Don’t believe a word of it.” I examined
the stairs. They looked great. The first floor still contained a host of gutted
shells. Berne or her father would need to work on them before we could do more.
I wasn’t looking forward to it. I tried to block out that thought. Instead I
stomped up and down the stairs to try them out. Solid.

“I missed you,” Berne whispered as I reached the bottom. She was
leaning against the wall. Funny to think I’d sat there with Doug not so long
ago.

“I doubt that.”

I threw my tools into my very industrial and professional looking
toolbox. Why it needed yellow plastic compartments, I wasn’t quite sure. Was an
all black toolbox too drab for the discerning workman? Were workpeople fashion
conscious enough to need yellow stripes on their screwdrivers? And why yellow
or orange? What was wrong with a purple hammer? Or a beige drill? Of course,
there were little green numbers you could pick up, not to mention the
disgusting pink sets aimed at women. Because no one on site would know you were
really a woman if you didn’t have a pink hard hat? Were you any less female
wearing the usual white or yellow?

“Why?” Berne took my hand as I turned to march back up the stairs.
I tried to yank it free but she held firm. “Why are you so cold now?”

Me, cold? Me? I tried to pull my hand again. I was feeble. Ten
year olds had more strength than me, I swore.

“Do you regret loving me?” She rubbed her thumb over my hand.
“Pepe?”

Low blow. Purring my name was mean and sneaky. How dare she when
she was wearing someone else’s ring?

I tried to prise her off with my free hand but she caught that too
and pulled me to her. “Do you love me no longer?”

Me? I wasn’t the one gallivanting around with another woman, was
I? I wasn’t the one who had purred, “Tonight you are mine,” when I’d been
happily engaged to Doug. What did she want me to say when she’d gone from that
to calling me a friend?

I glared at the wall beside her, aware that her warm body was
against mine. That her breath tickled my cheek, my lips. 

“Say it,” Berne whispered. “Say what you feel.”

I shook my head. I couldn’t bear to think it let alone utter it
out loud. Besides, I wasn’t giving her the satisfaction. No. I was keeping
quiet. Share. Hah. I wasn’t giving her a peep.

“Open up to me. Scream at me. Shout at me. Let yourself feel.” Her
hand slid from my wrist to my cheek. I shivered as a trail of goose pimples
followed her hand’s journey along my arm, my shoulder, my neck. “Tell me what
you want from me.”

Anger pulsed up. “What
I
want? You give a shit what
I
feel now?” I made the mistake of glaring into her eyes. Hers intense. Her lips
parted. Her hand slid into my hair. My voice seemed to echo in the silence.

I tried to push away. My legs wobbled. My resistance wobbled.
“You’re with her. You chose her.”

“I did not touch her.” Berne was far stronger than me. No matter
how I braced myself, my hand on her shoulder, I couldn’t break free from her. The
longer I stayed, the less I wanted to leave. “I would not do this.”

“You stayed. You stayed and Babs came back.” I gave another push,
hoping she’d just let go. My body was betraying me. I knew it. She knew it.

She slid her other hand to the small of my back. “She is
suspicious. She demanded we go away for some time together. I could not hurt
her on her birthday, Pepe.”

I shut my eyes. Berne rubbed slow circles on my back. This was
torture. “You’re telling me that at no point did you so much as kiss her?”

Nausea rippled through me. I tried to wriggle free. Berne pulled
me closer, closer, within inches of her lips.

“Look at me.”

I shook my head, fixing my gaze to the wall behind her.

“Look at me.” This time her husky tone oozed through me. It crept
through every pore, rippling over my skin, through my heart. Sneaky, mean,
underhand tactics. “I am sorry. Pepe, I had to go.”

I clamped my eyes shut in protest. I was not getting suckered in.
I could resist. I was angry. Really angry.

Berne leaned closer, her breath hot on my lips. “I say I was ill,
that my back is bad. I make many excuses. I lied. I lied for you. I would do
this always.”

“You did?” Relief gushed through me. I was starting not to care if
she was telling the truth. I didn’t care if she was telling me what I
wanted
to hear. I felt like I was sprinting the way my heart was clattering about.

“Look at me.”

I peeked open one eye. If I was only looking at her with one then
I wouldn’t give in. Nope.

“See it is the truth.” Berne slid her hand over my cheek, brushing
over my closed eyelid, which opened on command. Traitor. “I love
you
,
je
t’aime
, always.”

The ability to speak disappeared the more she murmured, the closer
she got, her eyes filled with desire. “Say that you want me. Say that you are
ready. Ask me.”

I clung onto her shoulder, trying to control myself. Futile was
the operative word.

“Ask me,” Berne whispered.

Her lips were close enough that I could sink into them. That I
could let go. She felt so steady, so strong. Catherine, my mother, all that
rolled through my thoughts. I squashed them back. Focused on Berne. “I—”

Her mobile cut through the silence. A cheesy love song. Real
Europop. Berne backed away. I felt cold in her absence. She never paid much
attention to her mobile normally.

“
Allo
?” Her gentle tone made my stomach crunch into a tight
knot. The kind of tone reserved for a lover. “
Maintenant
?
”

Her gaze flicked to the door. Panic and something close to guilt
flashed through her eyes. Viper.

“
Oui
, of course, I am . . .” She met my eyes. “Helping a
neighbour. I will meet you there.”

I shoved my hands in my pockets. Nice, from friend to a neighbour.
Viper was paying a visit. How wonderfully cosy.

“
Oui
, you know I do.” She finished the call and pocketed
her phone. “Pepe, I—”

I held my hand up. “Your
girlfriend
is entitled to come
here. I’m just a neighbour.”

Berne shook her head. Her eyes wide. “
Non
, you are
everything to me. She has never been here. I do not know why she has come.”

“She’s fighting for you.” I shrugged. I didn’t blame Viper for
that. “Least you can do is hear her out.” It sounded far too rational, far too
calm. What I wanted to say was tell the three-legged, toothless wonder to get
lost.

Berne stared at the door. “I will tell her about us . . .”

“You had all week to do that.” I folded my arms. “Spare me the
‘there was never a good moment,’ routine, okay?”

Berne’s mobile rang again. Same ringtone. It provoked the same
startled reaction.

“Well, don’t keep the woman waiting.” I turned, picked up my
toolbox, and marched into the room, which had once held a billiard table.

The door shut a few moments later and I slid down the nearest wall
and buried my face in my hands. Vivienne could offer her far more than I ever
could. The only reason they weren’t more seemed to be Vivienne’s reluctance to
give Berne equal partnership. There was nothing like a bit of competition to
realign a woman’s wishes.

I didn’t have anything to offer Berne. I didn’t even have a job.
Rebecca was buying food. If she thought I didn’t know Doug was funding it, she
was mistaken. Without my dear ex-fiancé, I was homeless, jobless, and about as
useful as sun cream in a monsoon. Even though I loved her, I wasn’t the
greatest catch. I wore fluffy pyjamas. I bet Viper didn’t. No, she was a suave
actress. I bet hers was silk, lace, and minimal. I bet she didn’t find crisp
crumbs down her front.

I closed my eyes, wondering quite how I’d gotten into such a mess.
A few months ago, I was engaged. I’d been in line to populate the English rugby
team. I’d been trapped and unfulfilled but wasn’t that better than this? Wasn’t
it better than being alone and knowing the woman I loved was off to see someone
far better for her than me?

It was official. If Viper was fighting back then I was stuffed.
Royally stuffed.