La Vie en Bleu (26 page)

Chapter Twenty-two

BERNE TRIED TO ignore her mother’s watchful gaze as she fixed
Monsieur Coin’s back door. His destructive golden retriever was actually an
eight-month-old puppy. He’d decided to chew his way out to the garden and
Monsieur Coin’s backdoor was no match for the determined monster. It was a good
thing he was so cute. She could hear him barking from her house most days.

“If she has come to visit you, is it not polite that you stay in
the same place?”

Berne winced at her mother’s tone and focused on the lock she was
fitting. “Papa is showing her the area.”

Berne felt her mother’s gaze intensify on her cheek and sighed.
She stopped her work to meet her unyielding eyes.

“You have not told her of Pippa.”

Berne shook her head. “I thought it was over. When I called her,
before the Ardèche, she was clear that she did not need me.” She rubbed her
hand over her forehead unsure how everything had become complicated again. “Now
she acts as though this was nothing.”

“You never speak of her.” Her mother sat on one of the half-chewed
stools and smiled as it wobbled under her. “The pup is hard working,
non
?”

Berne smiled back not sure how to explain herself. She felt so
disloyal. “The first time I realise that she still thinks we are together is
when I received an invitation.” She went back to the lock, needing to do
something to calm herself. “She never invited me before. She and Babs, they do
not like each other.”

“Yet she invited her too.”

Berne nodded. “It was an important step for her. How could I not
support her bravery?”

“Because your heart is with Pippa.”

There was no point in arguing. It was the truth. It had always
been the truth. “She has done nothing wrong, Maman.”

“This isn’t about right or wrong.” Her mother shifted as the stool
creaked. “You have no need to lie to her now. So why do you hesitate?”

The furry monster barked as Monsieur Coin opened the gate. A
moment later, the elderly man was yanked through by a small lion.

Berne shook her head at the sight. “I am scared.”

Berne heard her mother approach and turned to see her wave at
Monsieur Coin. He lay flat on his front in the grass, lead still attached.

“What scares you so?” her mother asked.

“What if she leaves again? What if she walks away?” Berne felt the
familiar surge of fear. “She will not even tell me that she wishes to be with
me,
Maman
. She hides her wishes, her thoughts. How can we be together if
she cannot even tell me she’s angry?” Her screwdriver slipped off the head and
gouged a chunk out of the wood. “She has a right to be so. She should be so. I
know she is yet she hides it. She hides from me.”

“Maybe this is just her way?” Her mother laughed as the puppy
bounced around play bowing and barking at his flattened owner.

“I know her. It is not her. I cannot stand to spend my life
battling for her to let me inside. I want more.” She tested the lock, pleased
that it worked. “I want all of her.”

“And you think she is not able to give you this?” Her mother
watched her for a moment.

Berne sighed under the scrutiny. “I think that if she cannot do it
now. She will never do so. Someone else’s thoughts, feelings will always
dictate how she treats me.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “It is bad
enough when Vivienne does this but when Pippa acts this way, it burns.”

“You would risk losing her for this?”

Berne shrugged. Seeing the way Pippa had been
with Doug . .
. how little they knew of each other. How muted Pippa had been. It
had been painful to see. She never wanted them to be the same. “Vivienne said
she’ll come out for me.”

Her mother sucked in a deep breath. “And what did you say to
that?”

Berne was startled by the vehemence of her mother’s tone. “I did
not know what to say.”

“Bernadette, you do not love this woman. You love another. There
is only one thing to say.” Her mother put her hands on her hips. It was a
gesture meant to scold but Berne found herself smiling. After seeing what Pippa
had been through, she was blessed to have such a wonderful mother.

“I do not think you have called me this in a while,
non
?”
Berne chuckled as her mother’s eyes twinkled.

“You’re not too old to be sent to bed without supper.” She wagged
a finger at her in mock fierceness. “Whatever your fears with Pippa, you must
be honest.”

Berne nodded. She knew that. She hated that she would now be
reduced to unfaithful when she had been sure things with Vivienne were over. It
was typical of Vivienne but it made her feel no less guilty. “So you do not
think I should opt for security with a woman who has been loyal all this time?”

Her mother winced as the puppy pounced on Monsieur Coin, his
trouser leg between his jaws. “Pippa has given up everything for you.”

“I know.” Giving wasn’t Pippa’s problem. Her courage to face her
mother was incredible but she’d been forced into a corner. Would Pippa have
done the same if her family hadn’t arrived? Would she ever have told them?

Vivienne had made it clear she wanted her. In return, Berne had
lied, distanced herself, and thought only of Pippa. She owed Vivienne an
explanation at the least.

The puppy de-shoed his victim and bounded off with his prize.
Vivienne appeared at the gate. She walked straight past the prone man to the
door without so much as casting him a glance.

Her mother patted her on the arm. “I prefer Pippa.”

Berne caught sight of the puppy bolting for the gate, which
Vivienne had left open. She sprinted out into the sunshine after him.

“Berne?”

“Dog,” she managed as she ran up the path.

It was a convenient excuse. She didn’t know how to tell Vivienne.
Perhaps it was much like Pippa facing her sister? She would rather appease and
be miserable than face Vivienne in a mood.

Chapter Twenty-three

FOR SOMETHING TO do other than mope, I decided to take payment to
Monsieur Chamonix. If I was honest, I was on a spying mission too. If Vivienne
happened to be there and I happened to push her into a hedge or something then
how could I help that?

So I packed up the teacakes that Rebecca had made for him and
picked up his cheque. Doug had been good to his word and put the money into my
account for me to pay the artisans. I noticed there was more than needed to pay
everyone. I’d have to put it all back in his account. I could look after
myself, sort of, a little, well . . . sometimes. 

As I wandered up to the Chamonix household, I took a sharp breath.
Perhaps Vivienne had offered her some kind of commitment at last? Perhaps she
would be swanning around all the swanky places rubbing shoulders with the
elite. 

I ignored the deep throbbing that provoked. It hurt. How could
thoughts physically hurt? 

“Monsieur Chamonix?” I knocked on the door and pushed it open.
Normally Madame Chamonix would be flitting around but she was clearly out
somewhere. Maybe Viper had treated them to lunch somewhere. Three Michelin
stars and food that looked like it belonged in a ration pack. I was going to
make fish and chips tonight in protest. Real food. Real British food. Hah.

“
Allo?
” It was my best attempt at a French accent but it
always made me sound slightly camp.

An odd gurgle came from the kitchen and I wandered in. “Oh shit .
. . Are you . . . what’s . . . where?”

Monsieur Chamonix was hunched over the table, gripping his chest.
I went to him. He lifted his head. His eyes bulged, his face red. He spluttered
for air.

“Heart?”

Flapping about a bit, I tried rubbing his back, hoping that it
would do something to help. It didn’t. He collapsed onto the table. Did he have
tablets? How did I get tablets into an unconscious man?

I ripped my phone out of my pocket. It flew out of my clammy hand
and clattered to the floor.

“Monsieur Chamonix . . . please . . . I don’t know what to do.”

I scrabbled around on the floor, pieced my phone back together and
punched in Rebecca’s number. She’d know.

“Hello there—”

“Get Babs to call an ambulance. Berne’s dad. Heart.”

I hung up the phone and pressed my fingers to his neck. Oh shit,
there was nothing.

“What do I do?”

Right. Think. CPR. He had a bad heart. It was bound to be his
heart. I pulled him down onto the floor. I’d done first aid once for the
office. What was it? ABC. Right A—Airway . . . okay, check his airway.

I rested his head back and stared down into his mouth. Apart from
the fact he had dentures, I didn’t have a clue. There was nothing I could see.

B—Breathing . . . He wasn’t doing that. C—um . . . er . . . think.

Comfort?

I placed my jacket underneath his head. “That’s not going to help
if his heart isn’t beating, you idiot.”

It seemed to help when I yelled out loud. C is for “Circulation!”

I blew out a breath. I’d done that.

“Then start CPR, numbskull.”

I pulled his shirt open and traced my fingers down. Was it on the
sternum, below it? The dummy hadn’t had chest hair. Um . . . on it . . . I
clamped my left over my right hand. Was it meant to be the other way?

“Who cares . . . pump!”

Like I’d done in first aid, way back when, I pumped as best I could.
How many repetitions was it? Ten? I’d go for ten.

I needed to . . . to . . . “Breathe. Help him breathe.”

Stopping the compressions, I went to his mouth and pinched his
nose. Summoning as much breath as I could, I whooshed it out, looking downwards.
His chest rose. Okay. Right. Start again.

Deciding on ten compressions to two breaths, I cycled back and
fore.

Parts of my mind registered that, again someone was depending on
me for survival. That again I was their only hope and again, I was making absolutely
no difference at all.

“Keep going. Keep going,” I called out to myself. “Come on,
Monsieur Chamonix . . . stay with me . . . please.”

REBECCA CLUNG TO the hand grip as Babs hurtled them up the road.
An ambulance had whizzed past only moments ago. All they could do was pray that
the old guy was okay.

“He has heart problems,” Babs muttered more to herself than
Rebecca. “Berne is always telling him he needs to retire.”

“True, but what can you do, the old guy loves his job.”

Shooting a scowl Rebecca’s way, Babs lurched the car around a
slower vehicle. “But the medical staff say he should not. And
where
is
Bebe?”

Rebecca sighed. “Pippa texted me. Vivienne is in town.”

“What?” Babs took her hands off the wheel. Rebecca lurched across
to grab it.

“Yeah. Real nice from Berne. Really classy.” She felt her anger
bubble up. “She chased her enough. You’d think she’d be happy to get what she
wanted.”

Babs tutted. “Pepe said that she needed space. You know that
Vivienne is sly. Bebe doesn’t wish to hurt her. She said that she had not
broken things off with her.”

Rebecca folded her arms. “No offence but no matter who said it, I
would never stay away from you.”

“
Je t’aime
,” Babs whispered.

“Remind me of that when I’m smacking sense into Berne.” Then the
realisation of what Babs had said hit her. She turned, knowing she was
grinning. “You do?”

“Of course.” Babs shook her head. “I am about ready to do the same
to them both. There is always an excuse, always a reason not to be together . .
.” She snorted her disgust. “They have more drama than a football player on the
ground.”

Rebecca nodded. She was sick and tired of it too. None of it made
sense and they should have been together years ago. Why were they
overcomplicating everything? They were both unhappy, both pining, and both
driving her nuts.

“I say we stage an intervention when he gets fixed up.” Rebecca
prayed that he
would
be fixed up. The old guy was awesome.

“This will be a good idea.” Babs screeched them to a halt next to
the ambulance and they hurried into the house.

“Pip?” Rebecca searched the rooms for them. “Pip?”

“In here.”

They hurried into the kitchen and saw the ambulance crew firing
conversation to and fro while placing a mask over Berne’s father’s face. Pippa
had a bottle in her hands. She gave it to the men who nodded and wheeled the
old guy past them, one working while the other pushed.

“Pip . . . you need to sit there, I’ll make tea. Babs, will you
call the family? You can articulate a lot better.”

Babs saluted and hurried off with her mobile. Rebecca searched the
cupboards finding an “allez les bleus” mug and settled the kettle to boil.

“You want to tell me?”

“He was gasping, he slumped over, and then he was quiet.” Pippa
rubbed her arms. “I did CPR the best I could. My arms feel like they are going
to fall off.”

“You know what the ambulance men said?”

Pippa shook her head, staring down at the table. Rebecca focused
on the kettle, irritated that Pippa had been alone to deal with it.

Babs rushed into the kitchen. “I will take Berne, her mother, and
Vivienne. They are in the village.”

Rebecca glanced a smile at Babs, then caught her at the door. “I
love you too. You know that, right?”

“I do now.” Babs planted a lingering kiss on her lips and hurried
out.

Rebecca touched her tingling lips, headed into the kitchen, and
grabbed the bubbling kettle.

“Tea,” she murmured at Pippa, placing it in front of her. “You
need to wash up?”

Pippa nodded, blinking back tears. Rebecca helped her up and into
the bathroom, flannelled off her tear-stained face and tried not to show how
worried she was herself.

She led Pippa back into the kitchen, picked up the tea, and headed
into the living room.

“Bound to have films, right?”

Pippa nodded and Rebecca sat her down, placed the cup in her
hands, and rifled through the films on the shelf until she got to one that she
knew would bring a smile to Pippa’s face. It was all she could do but it was
better than nothing.

THE LIGHTS OF the hospital were glaring. The sterile smell was
nauseating and the feel of the place just made Berne feel woozy.

Her father had been in theatre for hours. There had been no word
on how he was. Her mother had sat praying in the corner. Vivienne had attached
herself to Berne’s arm. The Vivienne she’d been with for so many years would not
have even sat beside her. It felt strange but she shoved it to the back of her
mind and was just thankful for the comfort. Erique had taken to wearing out the
corridor. His boots squeaked on the floor.

The doctor finally joined them in the room, and Berne was sure it
was some horrible dream.

“Madame Chamonix. Pierre is out of surgery now. He will be with
you very soon.” The doctor smiled. “I have had to fit a pacemaker but he is a
strong one.”

The relief of everyone in the room flushed out in one sweeping
breath. Berne felt Vivienne squeeze her arm.

“No doubt someone was watching over him today,
non
?” the
doctor said.

Berne had no doubt of the fact. Her father had suffered a stroke,
had that funny turn up on the scaffold, and now, perhaps at last, there was a
way to stop such things happening.

“He will pull through well?” Erique asked, his hands tucked into
the belt of his uniform. “The nurse said he had stopped breathing.”

The doctor nodded. “His heart had stopped completely. Like I said,
he is very lucky.”

Not sure that she understood, Berne looked at her mother and
brother but they seemed to wear the same blank expression. “How did he survive
if his heart stopped?”

“A woman gave him CPR until the ambulance crew arrived.” The
doctor smiled, bouncing from his heels to the balls of his feet. “You do not
know of her deeds?”

“Woman?” Berne’s mother had still been with Monsieur Coin and
Vivienne. Berne had been chasing a rogue puppy.

She glanced at Erique who shrugged. “Who was it?”

The doctor shook his head. “I do not know. She found him and kept
him alive. Perhaps you ask the ambulance team. They will know more.”

Erique wasted no time. He strode out of the room. Berne untangled
herself from Vivienne, went to her mother, and took her hand. “Will he be awake
soon?”

“
Non
, it will take some time. He will be monitored. There
is nothing much you can do for him at the moment. Go home, rest. He will be
awake some time tomorrow.”

Berne looked at her mother who emphatically shook her head. “Is
there a bed, a room that my mother can sleep in?”

The doctor seemed prepared for the answer. “I will have the nurses
bring one in.” He smiled at her mother. “But please, rest. He is in safe hands
now.”

The doctor left and Erique strode back in. His face unreadable as
if he was trying to keep it all together.

“What did you learn?”

He shook his head. He let out a few long breaths and met her eyes.
“The ambulance crew have finished but they wanted to come, to see how he was
getting on.”

“That is sweet of them,” her mother said, still thumbing over her
rosary.

Erique nodded. “They said that when they got to the house, a woman
was single-handedly performing CPR. She had been doing it for at least twenty
minutes.” He thumbed to the doorway. “They thought they might need to resuscitate
her.”

“Who was she?” Berne had a feeling it was probably Babs. No doubt
she would have known what to do and been calm enough to execute it. She
frowned. Surely Babs would have said. She’d gone in search of coffee an hour
ago. Her thinly veiled irritation at Vivienne hadn’t been helping.

“From the description . . .” He smiled at her. “Pippa.”

Berne blinked a few times. She knew Vivienne was watching her. “
Pardon?
”

Erique smiled. “Wavy dark hair, attractive, was talking to herself
and to Papa.”

That certainly sounded like Pippa. Had she really saved Papa?

“Who is Pippa?” Vivienne asked. Her look told Berne that she had
her suspicions.

“A neighbour.” Berne ignored the tut from her mother.

Before Vivienne could ask anymore, her father was wheeled in by
the medical staff. The methodical beep beep of his heart monitor filled the
room.

Vivienne was still expecting answers. Berne couldn’t help but
think of how things would have been if . . . if . . . “Pippa . . . it was her?”

Erique nodded, tears in his eyes. “She didn’t stop at all. Twice
now she has been a hero.”