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“I suppose she felt like treating herself.” Iris frowned and Gabriel raised his eyebrows. “What am I not getting?”
“She said she bought the clothes before catching the Eurostar backto London. But when she called me from Gare du Nord, she was distraught.”
“And?”
“I wouldn’t go shopping if I was distraught.”
“Hm.” Gabriel thought for a moment. “Maybe she only became distraught after? You know—she left the apartment angry, went to buy something to cheer herself up and then, when she got to the station, it all caught up with her, especially when she heard your voice.”
Iris nodded. “You’re probably right.”
Gabriel looked toward the door, then lowered his voice. “I’m going to Paris on Monday but I don’t want Laure to know.”
“Okay. But why not?”
“Because the last time I was meant to go, I think she told Pierre, even though I asked her not to. And I think that was what pushed him into telling Laure he wanted to see her.”
“So maybe he never intended on turning up to their meeting,” Iris mused. “Maybe it was a tactic to stop you from going over. Laure thinks he was at Claire’s. She’s convinced that Pierre is Mathilde’s father.”
“What do you think?”
“Like I said before, it fits.” She paused. “If you’re not going to tell Laure that you’re going to Paris, you’ll have to invent somewhere you need to be, otherwise she’ll wonder where you are. You can say you have a meeting at the surgery to talk about when you’ll be going back to work.” He looked taken aback. “You’ve been off for six weeks now, Gabriel, so it’s feasible.”
“Is it really? Yes, I suppose it must be.” For a moment, he looked like a cornered animal.
“You’re only going to pretend to Laure that you have a meeting,” Iris said gently. “You don’t have to think about going back yet.”
“I agreed to take a couple of months because that’s all I thought I’d need. But I’m not ready to go back, not in two weeks’ time. There’s too much going on, Pierre, and now this business of Maggie wanting to meet me.”
His voice trailed off. It was the first time he’d mentioned Maggie since she’d confronted him about the letter last Tuesday. “It’s okay, Gabriel,” she said. “You can take off as long as you want, they said so.”
He nodded, but she could see how shaken he was by the prospect of going back to work.
“Have you decided yet about Maggie?” A closed look came over his face. “You can’t refuse to see her, Gabriel.”
“Technically, I can,” he said. And without another word, he left the room, closing the door behind him.
25
Iris looked through the kitchen window and saw the end of a perfect Sunday afternoon; Gabriel and Hugh sitting together at the table, Gabriel laughing at something Hugh was telling him; Esme sprawled on a sunbed under the apple tree, a protective hand on the mound of her stomach, her straw hat shading her face from the fingers of sun poking through the branches. The only one missing was Laure, who had lain in the sun for an hour after lunch, then had gone to lie down with an almighty headache.
It wasn’t just the sun that had caused Laure’s head to pound, Iris knew. Before lunch, she’d had a couple of G&Ts, and during lunch she’d drunk several glasses of white wine before moving onto red. Iris didn’t blame her for wanting to drown her sorrows. She was putting on a brave face, but herI don’t care about Pierre anymoreattitude was only self-preservation. Inside, she’d be breaking.
Iris put a pot of coffee on the tray, ready to carry it out to the garden. She was about to step onto the terrace when she heard Joseph’s voice. She froze, only her eyes moving as she searched the garden. Hewas there, talking to Esme. She moved quickly back into the kitchen and with fumbling hands, put the tray down on the countertop.
“Get a grip, Iris,” she hissed. But there was an image she couldn’t get out of her mind.
Yesterday, after she’d arrived back from fetching Laure at the station, she had left her talking to Gabriel and had gone to find Joseph to invite him for lunch today. As she’d headed to the walled garden, she’d heard the sound of running water coming from behind the shed, and had presumed he was washing his hands. Instead, she found him stark naked under a makeshift shower he had rigged up by looping the hose over a large iron hook.
Her instinct had been to retreat. But something had prevented her. Joseph hadn’t seen her; his eyes had been closed and his head tilted back under the water cascading onto him. Transfixed by the sheer physicality of him, her feet had refused to move. It wasn’t the first time she had seen a naked man, but it was the first time she’d seen one as beautiful as Joseph. It was only when he’d lifted his hand to sluice the water from his hair that she’d managed to move away.
Thinking about it now made her cheeks flame. She gave herself a moment, then took another cup from the cupboard, retrieved the tray, and walked out to the garden. Joseph had joined Gabriel and Hugh at the table, and as she approached, he looked up.
“Hi, Joseph!” Iris called casually.
“Iris.” He raised a hand, shading his eyes. “I hope you don’t mind me coming by, but I needed to speak to Hugh about something.”
Iris set the tray down. “No problem at all.” She risked looking at him and with an effort, held his gaze. “Have you time for coffee?”
