AllFreeNovel
Share Us
They walked to Esme’s, the early evening air heavy with the woodysmell from fired-up barbeques, and at each sound of laughter coming from a back garden, Iris found herself smiling in anticipation of the evening ahead. She was happy to be going out tonight, relieved to be expanding their circle from three to five, because if she had to have one more meal with Laure, even with Gabriel and Laure, she might have screamed. The conversation was always about Pierre, and she was tired of hearing about Pierre. She was beginning to resent him; he still hadn’t called Laure, even though he’d promised Gabriel he would. Nobody was communicating with anybody; even she and Gabriel were no longer talking, no longer exchanging small signs of affection, a kiss here, a caress there. Iris told herself it was because they didn’t want to upset Laure. But deep down, she was afraid something fundamental had changed between her and Gabriel.
They arrived, and Esme led them through the house onto a covered terrace heaving with old sofas and armchairs. A huge bear of a man, recognizable as Hugh from the photo Iris had seen, embraced her and Laure in a warm hug.
“Let me get you some drinks,” he boomed, clapping Gabriel on the back. “Esme has made one of her cocktails, if you’d like to try it.”
“I’d love to,” Iris said, immediately drawn to his larger-than-life character.
Esme, resplendent in a turquoise ankle-length skirt, a white embroidered T-shirt and silver gladiator sandals, urged them to sit. In comparison to Esme and Laure, Iris felt drab and uninteresting.
Prompted by Gabriel, Hugh began telling them about their plans for the house, and Iris felt herself beginning to relax. With a glass of Esme’s cocktail in her hand—rum-based by the smell of it—she settled into a wicker armchair, wondering again how old Esme was. She looked from Esme to Laure and decided that Esme must be younger, late thirties perhaps. The mild annoyance she felt, that they were both younger than her, because Laure was forty-three, made her smile.
“I never expected to be undertaking such a huge project at sixty-one years of age,” Hugh said, and remembering that Hugh was twenty years older than Esme, Iris made a quick calculation; Esme was forty-one. Her rush of pleasure, that she and Esme were on the same side of forty, was quickly replaced by dismay, because she looked so much younger. At least, that was how it seemed. For a mad moment, Iris wanted to ask Gabriel what he thought.
It was living with Laure for the past two weeks that had made Iris more aware of her physical appearance. She’d always been happy with how she looked—yes, it would have been nice to be half a stone lighter, not to have the few gray hairs that had started to thread through her dark bob—but she had never wished to be a few inches shorter than her five foot nine. The truth was, spending so much time in close proximity to Laure had made her feel ungainly.
Hugh raised his glass. “To new friends.”
“And a new baby,” Gabriel added, raising his. “Iris told me your good news. Congratulations, both of you!”
“I’m not even sure how it happened,” Hugh joked. “I was in Switzerland for most of January.”
“For three weeks, and I went with you and stayed on for a few days, remember?” Esme looked at Iris in mock exasperation. “He likes to pretend he had nothing to do with it.”
“I’m sorry.” Laure’s voice, although no more than a murmur, closed their laughter down. She pushed unsteadily to her feet. “I’m not feeling too good. I think I should go home.”
Hugh and Esme were on their feet too, concern in their eyes.
“Can I get you some water?” Hugh asked.
“Would you like to lie down?” Esme laid a hand on Laure’s arm. “You can use our bedroom.”
But Laure shook her off, as if she couldn’t bear to be touched.
“Thank you, but I’d rather go home.”
“I’ll come with you,” Iris said.
“No, please stay, I’ll be fine.” Laure turned to Esme. “I’m so sorry.”
She disappeared into the house, and they stared in dismay at her departing back.
“Was it something I said?” Esme asked worriedly. “Was it my pregnancy?”
“No.” Iris smiled reassuringly, although she knew it probably was. “I’d better go after her, at least take her home. I won’t be long, but please, start without me.”
Picking up her bag, Iris hurried through the house after Laure, mentally blaming herself, although she was sure she had told Laure that Esme was pregnant. When she reached the front door, she came to an abrupt halt, because Laure was standing on the driveway, talking to a tall, dark-haired man, whom she recognized as Joseph, the landscape gardener. She took a step back and watched from the shadows.
“No, thank you.” Laure’s voice was shaky with tears. “I’ll be fine. It’s not far, just along the road.”
“Are you sure? It’s really no trouble to walk with you.”
Laure shook her head, already moving away. “The walk will do me good. But thanks anyway.”
Iris watched Joseph checking on Laure as she headed toward the gate. Once she was out of sight, he took a path that Iris guessed led around to the back of the house. Her instinct was to catch up with Laure and make sure she got home safely. But something held her back, the fear that Laure might ask her to stay, and Iris couldn’t bear the thought of spending another evening talking about Pierre. Tonight, she wanted to enjoy herself, because she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had fun. The holiday in Scotland with Gabriel had been nice, but it hadn’t been fun, not in the way it might have been, with teasing and laughter and their usual jokes. Gabriel could make her laugh out loud with his dry wit. But that hadn’t happened for a long time now.
She walked to the end of the drive and stood on the path, looking down the ribbon of road, shading her eyes against the evening sun. There was no sign of Laure, she had already turned the corner. Irisdecided to give her ten minutes to get back to the house, then call her. If Laure didn’t answer, she would go and check on her. If she answered and said she was fine, she would stay at Esme and Hugh’s for dinner.
Happy with the bargain she’d made with herself, Iris walked back up the drive, her feet warm under the canvas of her espadrilles. She stopped under the oak tree, her eye caught by the rope swing. She moved closer and examined it; the rope had been threaded through the middle of a small rectangle of wood. As far as Iris could make out, the only way to sit on it was to straddle it.
