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“I’m so sorry! I was going to move out before you came back tomorrow! I felt so alone when I arrived, I couldn’t stop crying and all I wanted was to hide myself away. I was afraid that if I was in the guest room at the front of the house, one of your neighbors would see the light on and I didn’t want to have to explain why I was here. The room next to yours had stuff on the bed, and I didn’t want to use Beth’s room. And I know it’s stupid but I felt closer to you in here.” Hurryingpast Iris, she began pulling the pillows from their slips. “I’ll change everything, it won’t take me long. I’ll move to one of the guest rooms.”
A wave of exhaustion took hold and Iris sank onto the bed. “It’s fine. It doesn’t matter for tonight, we’ll sort it out tomorrow.”
She was about to add that she would have her shower in the en suite anyway—she’d mentally swapped the long bath she’d planned to have for a quick wash long ago, what did a luxurious soak matter when weighed against the devastating news of Pierre’s infidelity?—when she caught a glimpse, through the open door, of towels piled on the floor and clothes slung over the edge of the bath. There was something familiar about the clothes and they reminded Iris of something that had distracted her when she’d first seen Laure at the top of the stairs, and which had continued to be a distraction even while she’d been listening, open-mouthed, to the story of Pierre’s betrayal.
“Are those my pajamas you’re wearing?”
Laure’s eyes welled with fresh tears. “I didn’t bring any clothes with me. I didn’t think about packing a case, I just took my bag and passport, and left.”
Iris pushed to her feet and enveloped her in a hug. “It’s fine.”
Releasing Laure, Iris dug a pair of pajamas from a drawer. When she turned back, she saw Laure by the window, looking into the night.
“How’s Gabriel?” Laure asked.
“Still devastated. Charlie Ingram will be with him forever, I think.”
“Was that his name, Charlie Ingram?”
“Yes.”
“It’s a nice name.” She turned to Iris. “Can you turn off the light? Then we’ll be able to see the quarry and we can say a prayer for him.”
Iris turned off the light and moved to Laure’s side. Together, they stood looking out at the quarry, its walls gleaming white in the moonlight, and each in their own way, said a silent prayer for Charlie.
“Tell me again why we’re sleeping in our guest room,” Gabriel said.
Fresh from his shower, he had a towel wrapped around his waistand smelled of mint, a mix of shower gel and toothpaste. Before, Iris would have taken the towel off him and pulled him onto the bed. But not anymore.
“Exhaustion. I was too tired to help Laure change the sheets.”
He came to sit beside her and bounced up and down, testing the mattress.
“It seems quite comfortable,” he remarked. “I don’t think I’ve ever slept in here before.”
“Once, when you had that awful bout of flu.”
“Oh yes, I remember.”
Iris reached over and flipped back the covers on his side of the bed. “Come on, let’s get some sleep.”
He climbed in and turned off the bedside light. In the dark, they lapsed into silence.
“What are you thinking?” Iris asked.
“That this bed isn’t as comfortable as ours.” Sensing Iris’s smile, he sighed. “I’m thinking about Pierre, about him having a child, a daughter. I’m thinking—when? How old is she? Did Laure tell you?”
“Not exactly. She thought that maybe Pierre had some sort of mid-life crisis and that the birth was recent. But apparently, the daughter is older. He said it was a one-night stand. I can’t work out if that’s better or worse.”
“Better for Laure maybe, but not for the child.” Gabriel’s voice was grim. “Has Pierre had any contact with his child, or the mother, since?”
“Not since he discovered he was the father—at least that’s what he told Laure.”
“Then why say something now? Why not let sleeping dogs lie?”
“Maybe he had a crisis of conscience.”
“Or regrets. He and Laure never wanted children, did they?”
