The moment he hung up, his maman bustled back into the room with an old cardboard box in her arms, and a bright smile on her face.
‘You told him about the chocolat display?’ Olivier said, taking the box from her, even though it wasn’t very heavy, and putting it down on the coffee table.
‘I did. Should I not have?’
‘No. It’s fine.’
‘Olivier…why didn’t you tell him yourself? Why haven’t you been answering his calls?’
‘Because…’ Olivier paused, drumming his fingers on top of the box as he considered his response. He could just say he’d been busy. Keep the message the same to both of them. Keep them happy, make sure they knewhewas happy, so they had no cause to argue over what was best for him. That’s what he’d always done.
But he wasn’t really happy now was he? At least not with his papa.
Ignoring problems didn’t make them go away. That’s what had happened with his marriage. They just became a bigger, more festering problem. Maybe a dose of that honesty that Ashleigh seemed to use all the time would help here.
‘I need some space from him, Maman. We’ve been living in each other’s pockets for so long…’
It wasn’t quite the whole truth, but it was something. If she had struggled with Auguste, the same way he was doing, surely this would be enough for her to mention it?
‘Working with family is always difficult.’ She made no move to start unpacking the box or to sit down.
‘I don’t find it difficult with you.’
‘We’re not really working together are we?’ She tucked her dark hair behind her ears and gave a small smile.
‘You sound like Papa. Do you really believe that? You’re teaching me your skills and I’m making something for your business. It’s fun, oui, because I enjoy the challenge, but also because Ilikeworking with you, Maman.’
‘You…don’t like working with Auguste?’
‘I haven’t been enjoying it recently, no.’ He pretty much admitted that to Ashleigh the other day at the ice-skating rink but it felt different, telling his maman. ‘Will you tell him that?’
‘Not if you don’t want me to.’
‘You two always tell each other everything about me.’
‘I thought that was the best way. You wanted us so desperately to get along after we divorced. I wanted to reassure you that we were still a team, still the solid unit of your parents even if we weren’t together.’
Olivier rubbed at the back of his neck, trying to understand why something that wasn’t really a revelation felt a little like one. ‘Well, you don’t need to worry about that now, Maman. I’m a grown-up and we’re all old enough to have our own opinions… If you don’t want to confer with him over me, you don’t have to.’
He’d added the last part, mainly for his own benefit, but when he saw the way her shoulders eased, it was clear she really had needed to hear that.
‘I’ll go check on the dinner, I think.’ He made an excuse and went out to the kitchen. The chasseur was fine, bubbling away and getting tender. It had at least another half an hour, so he stepped out the back door of the kitchen to get a little fresh air and to try and sort out the scrambling of his mind.
He’d spent years pretending everything was okay fortheirbenefit, so they didn’t argue, andshe’dspent years doing the same, forhisbenefit. What had Auguste been doing exactly?
Getting things his way all the time, it seemed.
The night air was cool and sharp as he took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly. He could hear trains and cars moving in the not-too-far-away distance, and the squeak of something next door, over and over in their garden, like rusty hinges. Maybe their gate was unlatched and needed shutting over properly?
He stepped down onto the patio and then up onto one of the white-painted, wrought-iron chairs, so he could peek over the fence and see what the noise was.
As his eyes adjusted he saw Ashleigh, sitting on her old swing, diagonally across from him, moving gently back and forth as she cradled a cup of tea.
‘Bonsoir, Ashleigh,’ he said, because he didn’t feel like skulking back into the shadows again and if she looked up and saw him standing there watching her, she would most likely think he was a massive creep. As it was, she jumped in her seat and nearly spilled her tea over her lap.
‘Oh my God, Olivier. What are you doing up there?’
‘I heard the squeaking and thought you might have left your gate unlocked. I think your swing could do with some oil.’
