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It was his chance to redefine the parameters. To remind her, and himself, that this was a business deal, nothing more; that she didn’t have the right to demand anything of him. Louis opened his mouth to tell her, one of his well-honed put-downs ready on his lips.
His gaze swept over Alex’s face. Sincere, open, ingenuous. Like no one he’d ever known before.
And for the second time in as many days he found himself opening up and letting the dark ghosts of his past emerge into the light for the very first time.
* * *
She hadn’t expected him to answer. She’d thought he might brush it off, the way he always did when any of his work colleagues politely made personal enquiries. Or else make a scathing remark, as he did when the media prodded him considerably less politely.
Perhaps what startled her most was the way Louis shifted to face her square on in his seat, or maybe how he lowered his voice so that she had to edge in closer to hear, as though their conversation wasn’t for the rest of the world to know. It might even have been the way he toyed with the pepper shaker in the middle of the table as though he was feeling suddenly, uncharacteristically, unsure of himself.
It was several long moments before she realised she’d stopped breathing.
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‘My mother didn’t die in an accident at Rainbow House, the way everyone seems to think. She committed suicide.’
‘That’s ludicrous. My brother was in and out of the place around the time your mother died. He would have been around six, which means I was probably three. My father would have known.’
Her breath came out in a single whoosh. He ignored it, continuing with even less emotion than he had shown when choosing their expensive bottle of wine this evening.
‘Have you ever thought about why, if she was such a hero in rescuing a place like Rainbow House from the brink, she isn’t more celebrated by the centre? Why her connection to the charity has been all but erased? Why you only knew about her because your brother was a resident all those years ago, and because you still care enough to volunteer there now?’
‘Well...yes. But...’
‘No one talks about her. Certainly no one who was around at the time. I’d lay a bet your father never mentions her.’
That was true. In fact, when she’d mentioned Celine and the Delaroche connection to her father, he’d ignored her. It was only when she’d mentioned her idea of attending the gala to speak to Jean-Baptiste that he’d snapped at her and told her not to be foolish. He, who wanted to save Rainbow House as much as she did.
‘Nevertheless...’
‘It happened, Alex.’
‘How do you know?’
‘My father told me at the time. Told me he’d managed to cover up the details surrounding her death and that as far as the press were concerned, there had been an accident.’
She heard the scornful snort; realised it was her.
‘Your father?’
‘I didn’t want to believe it. I spent the best part of a decade telling myself it was a lie, and that one day I’d uncover the truth. I was seventeen by the time I was in a position to do that. I discovered that there had been no official police investigation, although an internal investigation had taken place with as few personnel as possible. A couple of them had since died, but no one left was talking. At least, they only confirmed the story that the press knew, none of which matched my father’s all-too-vivid account.’
‘Louis...’ she began. She wanted to ask so many questions, wanted to comfort him. It was impossible to tell whether he would have accepted her sympathy or shut down again. She couldn’t risk the latter. Gripping the table, she hardly even dared to blink.
‘Most of the evidence had long since been destroyed. I barely managed to get hold of a few photos, which was all that remained. There was one of a ripped-up bedsheet, and my mother’s favourite handbag, and the broken pearls from her necklace on the floor next to the beam they had cut to get her down. It all matched the story my father had told me. He hadn’t been lying.’
‘I can hardly believe it,’ Alex offered tentatively. ‘The woman I’ve always heard about from my father was so happy, so generous, so full of love.’
‘She was. And, I suppose, for all his flaws I have to be grateful to my father for at least preserving her good reputation. Hushing up the details and ensuring the press reported nothing more than a tragic accident was the kindest thing he could ever have done for my mother.’
‘So...is that...’ She paused, thinking of all the best memories of her brother she’d clung to over the years. ‘Do you still remember the good times with her? How close you were?’
He shrugged and she couldn’t explain it, couldn’t justify it, but somehow she sensed that—far from the negligent attitude Louis had used to fool the press for so long—a maelstrom of feelings actually raged beneath the surface. Undetected by others, stuffed down by Louis.
‘I remember her leaving the chateau the previous night. She’d promised to take me with her because I loved the plane so much, but I was sick that day and she had to leave me behind. She told me she loved me, and that she would fly home as soon as she could. I waved to her out of the window as her car went down the drive. She even got out just before the moat and waved back. I never saw her again. Twenty-four hours later she’d taken her own life.’
‘Louis, I...’
