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“I think he was shocked, which was good. He asked when he wouldsee me and I said I didn’t know. It was good to have the upper hand for once.”
Iris gave her a quick smile. “Do you mind if I jump in the shower? I feel really sweaty after that run. We can talk again after.”
“Of course, go ahead. I’ll still be here when you come back.”
Iris walked quickly to the house, blinking back sudden tears.It’s okay,she told herself.It’s going to be okay.
In the bathroom, she turned on the shower, stripped off her clothes and let the water cascade onto her, needing to obliterate all thought, just for a few seconds. Her emotions were all over the place. Laure needed to go back to Paris. For three weeks now, apart from two days away, she’d barely had more than fifteen minutes to herself. She didn’t know if Laure had become needy because of what had happened with Pierre, or if she had always been needy. She thought back to the weekends and holidays they’d spent together, and arrived at the difficult truth, that Laure was her polar opposite. It had never mattered, during those holidays and weekends away, that Laure had always been by her side, because she’d been happy to see her and spend time with her, and it had only been for two days, or a week, so her constant presence had never felt too much. It had never been indefinite. But now, the thought of Laure staying even a week longer was overwhelming.
Reaching blindly for the tub of body scrub, she twisted off the lid, scooped out the grainy mixture and buffed her body vigorously, mentally wanting to rid herself of the film of shame she was sure was on her skin. She couldn’t help wondering if the reason Laure hadn’t joined her on her run was because she’d wanted to call her office without her being there.
She finished her shower and wrapped herself in a towel. In the bedroom, she dressed quickly in clean shorts and a T-shirt, and opened the bedroom door. Laure was hovering on the landing.
“I was going to make a smoothie,” she said. “Would you like one?”
“I’ll make it and bring it to you in the garden, if you like,” Iris offered.
But Laure was already heading to the kitchen. “What shall we make for dinner tonight?” she called over her shoulder. “We can make a start on it.”
Her mood dipping further, Iris followed her downstairs and while Laure made smoothies, she began preparing dinner. By the time she heard Gabriel coming in from the garden, she was more than ready for him to take over. Laure, perched on the countertop while Iris peeled and sliced, hadn’t stopped asking what she would do in her situation. But whatever she said, Laure would challenge it, not because she was being argumentative but because she was challenging everything to do with Pierre, even her own thoughts, one minute hating him, the next loving him. She might have felt that she’d taken back some control of her life in resigning from her job, but to Iris, Laure seemed just as lost as ever.
“Gabriel’s here,” she said, hoping to stop the constant flow of agonizing.
“Oh good.” Laure slid elegantly from the countertop. “Maybe he’ll be able to tell me what to do. Sometimes I think he knows Pierre better than I do.”
Not anymore, Iris wanted to say.
Gabriel came in and looked at Iris over Laure’s shoulder—How has she been?Too late, Iris realized she should have gone to find him in the garden and warn him that Laure had decided not to go back to Paris. All she could do was give him a quick smile.
“You look better,” he said to Laure.
“I have some news,” she announced.
Gabriel leaned back against the countertop. “Oh?”
“I’ve handed in my notice.”
Iris, watching Gabriel carefully, saw him smother his surprise. “Right,” he said. “Great.” There was a pause. “So, what are your plans?”
“I don’t really have any for the moment.” She looked at him, her eyes wide. “It is all right, isn’t it, me staying here a bit longer?”
“Yes, sure. Of course.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I need a drink. To celebrate,” he added hastily.
Iris threw him a murderous look. “In that case, let’s have champagne. I’ll get it.”
Gabriel caught her eye—I’m sorry.
Relieved to get away, Iris went to the fridge in the garage that they used for overspill, and where they kept champagne for impromptu celebrations. She stood for a moment, letting the gentle hum of the fridge soothe her frayed nerves. Maybe this is where she could hide when Laure got too much for her; here, she could pretend that she hadn’t heard her calling. The thought that she might be reduced to hiding in the garage, just to get some peace, made her throat swell.
She opened the fridge. Goose bumps flashed on her skin at the blast of cold air. She blinked in the yellow light and took a bottle of champagne from the lower shelf. Returning to the house, she found Gabriel and Laure waiting silently in the sitting room, as if they didn’t want to start a conversation without her being there. There were three crystal champagne glasses ready on the low table, and in the late evening sun flooding through the window, they glittered like small towers of diamonds.
“Here.” Iris smiled as she handed the bottle to Gabriel. “I’ll let you open it.”
Gabriel twisted the wire from around the cork and eased it from the bottle. There was an explosive pop, followed by a splintering sound, and three pairs of eyes swivelled to the large silver-edged mirror that hung on the wall above the fireplace.
“Damn,” Gabriel said, staring at the huge fissure running down the length of it.
Laure pressed a hand to her heart. “I’ve never seen that happen before.”
