La Vie en Bleu (29 page)

Chapter Twenty-seven

THE SUMMER AIR was filled with the scent of hope. Well, some kind
of weird flower that set off her sinuses as Rebecca ducked behind the wall.
Vivienne had stormed out after Pippa had left the shop. Berne had stayed in
there, alone, all night. Pippa had sat in the house watching DVDs until she
fell asleep.

She didn’t know what Berne had decided. Quite honestly, if she’d
been Berne, she would have proposed to Pippa on the spot. Okay, so they’d all
been a bit dumbstruck with Pippa’s heart-soaring words. Even Babs had had a
tear. 

Rebecca and Babs had decided to intervene. No way were they giving
up without a fight. Three cheers for next day delivery.

Rebecca placed a finger over Babs’s lips. She was giggling like a
naughty school girl. “She’ll hear us.”

Babs nodded, eyes wide with mischief. “You think it’ll work?”

“It has to, that’s what started them off, remember?” Rebecca
peeked around the corner. The excitement made her shudder.

“Need some warmth?”

Rebecca slapped at the cold hands snaking their way inside her top
and smiled. The woman was insatiable, just how she liked it.

“Focus, my little French marshmallow. Do you want them to get
together or not.”

Babs sighed. “
Oui
.”

Rebecca chuckled at her bored tone and raised eyebrow. “Quit
making me laugh. Right, the package is being delivered.”

She gripped hold of Babs’s hand. Babs ducked underneath her arm to
see.

Up came the postie, special delivery for Mademoiselle Saunders.
Rebecca knew that Berne was getting a very similar package in the mail. Hiding
around the corner was the only way they’d know that Pippa would definitely
answer the door. It was the only thing that dragged her out of her workshop during
office hours. Plus she was brooding. 

Berne, of course,
always
dragged her out but Berne was
brooding too. She didn’t know much about the Frenchie but if Pippa sanded any
more wood, she’d have no hands left.

The postie knocked on the door a second time and Rebecca prepared
herself to rugby tackle him for it if he decided to leave.

“Come on, Pippa, you dozy clot.”

Rebecca shrank back as the door opened and Pippa poked her head
out. As always, she was covered from head to toe in paint, sawdust, and other
crap. After a brief conversation, she signed for the parcel, squinted down at
it, and cocked her head.

“We need to get closer,” Babs whispered.

The postie headed back up the road and they dashed across the yard
like very badly trained secret agents.

“You see anything?” Babs asked as Rebecca peered in through a
window above her.

“Yeah, she’s reading the note.”

Babs gripped hold of her arm in acknowledgement as Rebecca gave
her the running commentary. “She’s smiling . . . and shaking her head . . . all
good so far.”

Pippa pulled at the package but couldn’t rip it. Rebecca ducked as
Pippa scanned the worktop next to the window.

“
Ça va
?”

“We got incoming.”

Babs sniggered and dragged a crouching Rebecca from underneath the
sill. They trampled over the weeds sprouting up before stopping at the side
window. Babs thumbed at the glass. Rebecca nodded and slid upwards until she
spotted Pippa.

“Okay, she’s found the scissors.” Rebecca sighed. “Those won’t
work, they’re paper scissors . . . use your Stanley knife, you ditz.”

Considering she was so clever, she was a bird brain. Rebecca
watched her struggle until Babs burst into another fit of giggles.

“You would make the worst spy ever.”

Babs nodded, clamping both hands over her mouth.

“Oh . . . wait . . . she’s twigged they aren’t useful.” Rebecca
shook her head as Pippa walked over to the knife block and pulled out the
butcher’s cleaver. “Whoa, Pip, it’s just a plastic fastener . . .” She clamped
her hands over her eyes and peered through splayed fingers. “She’s going to cut
off her arm or something. I should go in.”

Babs yanked her downwards and shook her head. “
Non
, this is
interference. We do not know of this,
non
?”

Rebecca sighed. “I know but if she cuts off her thumb—”

Thwack
.

Rebecca popped up. Pippa wasn’t on the floor, no blood, no
screaming. The box had been felled well and truly though. “She’s murdered the
packaging.”

Babs giggled again.

“Shhh . . . she’ll hear you.”

Pippa frowned and glanced in their direction. Rebecca dropped
down. The laughter from Babs filled with intermittent snorting.

“Will you zip it?” Rebecca could hear herself sniggering. She
dragged Babs with her as they ran around to the back.

Pip opened the side door. “Rebecca?”

Why her own name sounded funny she didn’t know. Tears squeezed out
of her eyes as she clamped them shut.

“Rebecca?”

Babs had her hands over her mouth to block the sound of her own
laughter.

“Must be the birds.” Pippa shut the door and Rebecca blew out a
breath and looked through the back window.

“Opening the package now . . . here she goes . . .”

Pippa’s laughter rang out through the air.

Rebecca high-fived Babs. “Stage one is complete.”

Chapter Twenty-eight

FOLLOWING THE INSTRUCTIONS on the note, I made my way down to the
living room “in the uniform provided.” On entering, I shook my head at the two
innocents sitting on the sofa with a bowl of crisps between them.

“I’m guessing this will be a new tradition?”

Rebecca flashed a smile and turned to the TV.

“I’ll get my own crisps then?”

Both were fixated on the screen.

There was a knock at the door and I wandered towards it. I had a
nagging feeling who would be on the other side because the two criminal
masterminds in the living room burst into giggles again. Still it didn’t settle
my nerves. Berne had texted me late in the night to tell me she needed to
think. At least I’d made her think. It was something to cling onto.

“
Bonjour
,” Berne said as she came in, shaking the rain from
her coat. “Sorry I am late. The Coins had a leak in their roof.”

I took a breath. Small talk. I could do small talk. “Please don’t
tell me you were up there in this weather?”

Berne shrugged and I took her coat from her. She was daft and
kind. I adored her for it.

“Did you manage alright?” I watched her take off her shoes as I held
her coat like a life raft.

“A few moments where I became more religious than usual but . . .
not bad.”

She turned around and I groaned at her top. “Let me guess, you got
a mysterious package too?”

“And a note. I have no idea who could have sent it.” She flicked
her gaze at the hysterics from the other room.

I hung her coat up, trying not to stare. “Game on, I guess.”

We wandered into the living room and I poured crisps into a bowl.
Berne sat beside me as the anthems blared out. It was only a friendly. France
versus England. Which meant friendly in an ironic sense. This one was in
Twickenham. A rugby match that could go either way. 

“Nice top, Pip.” Rebecca was grinning inanely. “I take it, you
both accept the terms?”

Berne was still here, in Ajoux. That had to mean something. I
hoped it meant something.

“From the giggling gorillas?” I asked, smiling at Berne. “Why
not.”

Berne’s eyes twinkled. “
Vive La France
.”

“Swing low, sweet chariot,” I whispered back.

The match began in brutal fashion. As always with the two nations,
the history pulsed onto the pitch and men clattered into each other with
deafening crunches, blood splattering, and mud spraying everywhere. A
torrential downpour added to the madness with the French slipping and sliding
through tackles to score, only for the English to come back through metronome
penalty kicking.

Eighty minutes, the game was hanging in the balance, the scores
level. The ball was fed out from the scrum to the English fly-half. He took
aim, drew his leg back.

Smack.

The French number nine drove him backwards to the ground. The ball
rolled over the sideline. The whistle blew. All square.

“Well, that wasn’t in the script.” Rebecca threw a pillow at the
TV for good measure.

Berne and I burst into laughter. They tried so hard, bless them.
The entire match, I’d felt Berne’s thigh next to mine. She was here, she had
worn the shirt. Was she staying?

“You didn’t leave with her?”

Berne smiled. “
Non
.”

My heart burst into a sprint. “Are you
staying for . . . well . .
. me?”

Her eyes twinkled. “Perhaps.” 

Why I giggled, I didn’t know but an idea washed over me.

“I tell you what,” I said to Rebecca. “How bout we
both
do
the forfeit?”

Rebecca and Babs perked up at that.

Berne’s eyebrows shot up as I turned to her. She looked something
else in a French shirt.
Vive La France
indeed.

“You too scared to run in the rain, Chamonix?” I got to my feet.
My voice sounded like I knew exactly what I was doing and that I had clearly
done this kind of thing before. “Think you can’t cope?”

Berne was up and marching to the front door. “I have no problem
with the rain.” She opened it. “
Après toi
.”

I looked out at the crashing torrent and wobbled. “Couldn’t we
wait for it to pass a bit?”

“You afraid of a little water, Pepe?” Her eyebrow arched. Hunger
pulsed through her eyes at me. My stomach wiggled and I was quite sure that I
may have fanned myself.

I tore my eyes from hers to spot Rebecca and Babs in the doorway.
They gripped hold of each other, not making a sound. They looked like they were
still watching the rugby match.

Rebecca gave me a curt nod and I tapped the rose on my chest.
“Never. No proud Englishwoman would be scared of such drizzle.”

Drizzle? It looked like something you’d see in a hurricane.

“I only worry that
you
won’t be able to keep up.” I
launched forward, planted my lips on Berne’s, ripped off my rugby shirt, and
sprinted into the freezing cold rain.

I howled with laughter, the sensation of the water washing away my
cares. I felt free. I felt . . . flipping freezing.

My flip-flops flew off as I giggled. I held my face up to the sky
as the rain poured down onto my skin. I felt whole.

Two warm, strong hands caught me as we got to the bridge. “You owe
me a kiss,
non
?”

I turned. Berne’s eyes were intense, filled with desire, and
twinkling. I stared into them. Stared up at the face I’d spent my life dreaming
of. I felt blessed beyond any words I could find. The heartbeat in my ears
sounded like it was launching into a mad victory parade.

Still, I had to fight a bit. “Do I?”

The smile slid across her lips. Oh, how I had longed to feel them
again.

“
Oui
, you kiss me. It is only fair.”

She made a good argument. I let Berne pull me until only inches
separated our parted lips. I felt that finally I was well and truly alive. I
could give in now. I was ready to give in. I’d earned back her trust. I felt
like I made an impact now. I had fixed up a house, been with Monsieur Chamonix
until help arrived. I’d taken on my past, taken on Fish Lips, and you know
what, I’d survived it.

I got scared, I made mistakes, and I messed up, and you know what,
I was okay with that. I didn’t have to be perfect anymore. I could be something
better. Me.

“There is something else in that too,” I whispered. “Paying back
the kiss, I mean.” I closed my eyes, enjoying the feel of her skin against
mine.

“
Oui
?” Berne purred. Her hands ran up and over my back. “It
is important?”

“Yeah, it is.” I brushed away her hair, hoisted myself up, and
wrapped my legs around her waist.

If I was doing this. I was doing it in style. I sank into the
kiss, letting every single want, need, desire, and hope pulse through me into
it. I could hear her groan against me, then whimper as I pulled back and jumped
down.

“Now we’re equal.”

She strolled towards me and I smiled, holding her bra in my hand.
She narrowed her eyes, that mischief shining through.

I giggled and turned to run, howling like a madwoman as I splashed
through the puddles towards the house.

I grinned at Rebecca who looked prouder than I’d ever seen her.
“I’d say advantage England!”

Babs poked her. “Pepe kissed her first, that is France win,
non
?”

Berne caught me, hauled me upwards, carried me inside and up the
stairs that I’d fixed.

“What do you think, Pepe?” she asked, the rain dribbling over her
strong, sexy shoulders.

“It’s pretty decisive,” I murmured against her lips. “Game, set,
and match . . . to love.”