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12
Gabriel stared at the ceiling, his hands wedged behind his head, thinking about the evening they’d just spent with Esme and Hugh. He’d enjoyed the evening more than he’d thought he would, maybe because without Laure there, they’d been able to speak about something other than Pierre.
He’d felt sorry for Laure, though. It couldn’t have been easy for her, seeing Esme pregnant, if it was true that she had always wanted a child.
Iris stirred beside him and he held his breath, willing her not to wake. She rolled toward him but settled back to sleep. Gabriel let his breath out quietly and returned his thoughts to the evening. When Iris had gone after Laure, he’d been worried that she might not come back and he’d be stuck with a couple he didn’t know. It wouldn’t have mattered, he’d soon realized, because they were great. At one point he’d been surprised to find himself telling Hugh about finding Charlie in the quarry. He wasn’t sure how the conversation had started, or what had led him there, but if they hadn’t been interrupted by Esme calling them to the table, he might have told Hugh everything. And if he had, he might be feeling better about what he did that day.
If the paramedics hadn’t arrived when they had, Gabriel might have been more prepared. But he was still trying to process that Charlie had just died in front of his eyes. They asked if Charlie had been conscious when he’d found him, and if Gabriel had had more time to think things through, he might have said that he hadn’t been. It would have been a lie, but it would have been an easier burden to bear than the one he’d carried since, because once he’d said that Charlie had been conscious, it was inevitable that the paramedics would ask if Charlie had said anything. And Gabriel had said yes. It was only when they asked him what Charlie had said that Gabriel recognized his mistake. The huge weight of the message Charlie had asked him to pass on hit him with such force that, for a moment, he’d been unable to speak. But he’d had to tell them something, so he told them that Charlie had said, just before he died,Tell Mum I love her, and the two paramedics had had tears in their eyes, and said what a comfort it would be to her. Then the police had arrived and had asked the same questions, and Gabriel had told them the same thing, that Charlie had asked him to tell his mum he loved her.
Except that wasn’t what Charlie had said.
13
Iris pulled up in the drive and sat for a moment before going into the house. She needed to gather her thoughts before facing Laure.
There’d been a dip in Laure’s mood since the dinner at Esme’s on Saturday. When they’d spoken about it the next day, Laure had told Iris what she’d already suspected, that seeing Esme pregnant had been too much for her, because her three weeks off were coming to an end.
“It underlined what I don’t have,” she’d said, her eyes bright with tears. “And everything I’ve secretly wanted.”
She had also been understandably apprehensive about seeing Pierre again.
“What if he tells me that I’m right, and that Claire is the mother of his child? And that they’ve agreed that he can see her on a regular basis? He already knows Mathilde; he’s her godfather.” Her eyes had widened suddenly. “Maybe that’s why he’s her godfather; maybe it was an agreement between him and Claire that he would be her godfather so he could have a role in her life. Do you think that’s what happened?”
Iris had hesitated a moment too long.
“If she is, I think I might kill him.” Tears had filled Laure’s eyes. “I’m not going to be able to stay at the flat when I go back this weekend. I’ll ask Victoire if I can stay with her.”
“Does Victoire know?” Iris had asked, recognizing the name of Laure’s childhood friend. “About Pierre having a daughter?”
“No, none of our friends do. All they know is that Pierre and I are going through a bad patch, and that I’ve come here so that each of us can have some space. They don’t know the cause of the bad patch.”
Mindful that the engine was still running, Iris turned off the ignition and got out of the car. Glancing up at the house, she saw the flash of a face at the sitting-room window and groaned inwardly. Laure was already waiting for her.
“Did you have a good meeting?” Laure asked, as Iris came in through the door.
Iris put her bag down and kicked off her sandals. “Yes, very productive. This time Samantha had the keys to the house so I was able to actually see it. It’s beautiful; it really would be a dream project. She still hasn’t made a decision, though.” She gave Laure a smile. “How about you, what did you do?”
“I went to see Esme.”
“Oh. Hold on, I just need to wash my hands.”
Laure followed Iris to the kitchen and waited while she lathered soap into her hands, then rinsed them. “I thought I should apologize for dashing off on Saturday,” she said, handing Iris a towel.
“I’m sure she understood.”
Laure nodded. “She did, once I explained about Pierre. We had a lovely chat and she offered to take me shopping to buy some clothes.” She looked down at her shorts and T-shirt. “I’ve got so used to wearing yours that I barely notice anymore.”
“You know I’m happy to take you shopping,” Iris said, irritated. “I’ve offered, but you’ve never wanted to go, you said it wasn’t worth buying anything new as you had plenty of clothes in Paris.”
“I know, but I mentioned to Esme that I wouldn’t mind a new dressfor when I see Pierre at the weekend. I may as well look as glamorous as possible.”
Iris smiled. “Laure, you’d look glamorous wearing a bin bag.” She paused. “Has Pierre phoned you yet?”
“No, just a message yesterday saying we’ll talk when I’m back in Paris. So, can we go shopping then? Tomorrow? Or Thursday if you prefer?”
“Tomorrow is fine.”
“Great.” She gave Iris a look. “Can you smell something?”
