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It had been a natural progression that they should spend their nights
together. From the moment he met her at the airport, she was in his arms,
and here it was accepted that Andre should stop in the street and seek her
mouth with his own. Harriet just wanted to be with him, day and night, and
the torment of their weeks of separation swept away the inhibitions which
had kept them apart.
Returning to London was the worst part. She had half expected that Andre
would ask her to stay, or at the least come with her, but he didn't. He came to
the airport, and waved as her plane taxied along the runway, and that was the
last she saw of him.
She did get a letter, though, a letter which she burned as soon as she had read
it. Soon afterwards, she rented an apartment in town, and although things
happened which reunited her with her parents, she never forgave herself for
treating them so shabbily.
Charles was the only one who ever really understood what she had gone
through. He was instrumental in: finding her somewhere to live, and she had
repaid him by working hard and taking much of the burden of the business
from his shoulders. They were more like partners now than employer and
employee, and when Harriet's eldest sister and her husband had been killed,
it had been his suggestion that she should take her niece away for a while.
She needed a holiday, he said, and that was true. Apart from weekends and
bank holidays, she had not had any time off since Christmas, and she was
beginning to feel the strain. But how much of a rest would she have here, she
wondered, with the knowledge of Andre Laroche's presence colouring her
every move? What would Charles say if he knew? What would her parents
say?
Now she got up from her chair and wandered restlessly to the gate which led
into the lane. She tugged out a long blade of grass, chewing on it absently as
she stared towards the trees that hid the stream from view. If she followed
the path that Andre had taken would she eventually come to his house? What
would his wife say if she arrived uninvited? And his family? She wondered
how many children he had. It would serve him right if she went along and
introduced herself, I she thought angrily. She could imagine his
consternation if he returned to find her with his wife, unable to I be certain of
how much she had revealed!
She pressed her lips together impatiently. Oh, God, was she going to spend
the whole of her time here I brooding over the past? It was dead! How many
more times must she remind herself of that?
But as she walked back to the house, the insidious thought intruded that
when she and Andre had spent that weekend together in Paris, Paul had been
a little boy of only seven or eight years old.
CHAPTER FOUR
DURING the next few days, Harriet found she had plenty to do to fill her time.
The following morning she drove into Rochelac, and as well as essential
supplies like bread and milk, and meat and eggs, she bought paints and
brushes, and some curtain material to replace the cardboard which had had
to suffice up to the present. The only room that possessed curtains was the
salon, but they were faded and threadbare, and besides, the new furniture
deserved something better. It was going to be quite a task, sewing them all
by hand, but Susan could help while she colourwashed the walls.
Although she had expected Andre would return to accept her thanks for the
furniture, he did not, and contrarily, she was annoyed. She just wanted him
to come and be done with it, she told herself irritably, and not leave them
waiting indefinitely for his appearance. And yet wasn't that more in keeping
with what she knew of him? she chafed, frustratedly dabbing a splash of
honey-coloured paint from the front of her blue and white spotted top.
By the end of the week, the house was beginning to look good. Whitewashed
walls in the kitchen were relieved by several cheap prints Harriet had found
on a stall on market day in Rochelac, and the dresser looked better with a
coat of yellow paint. A couple of wool rugs added warmth to the stone floor,
and the lamp which hung from the newly painted ceiling had been polished
to a becoming shine.
It was the same in the salon, and upstairs in the bedroom, although Harriet
had given up trying to get the window to close again. The loft was the only
part of the house left uninvestigated. Harriet put off disturbing its cobwebby
hollows, and even Susan's promise that she could deal with any unwelcome
invaders did not change her mind.
With-the house in order, Susan was all for exploring further afield. They had
given Beynac-et-Cazenac only the most cursory of examinations, and the
surrounding countryside was liberally scattered with castles and chateaux.
From the commanding ramparts of Beynac Casde it was possible to see the
whole of the Dordogne valley, and Harriet planned to visit Castelnaud which
faced Beynac across the river. During the Hundred Years War, Castelnaud
had been occupied by the English, and there had been many bloody
skirmishes between the two opposing armies. It was an area deeply
ingrained with history, not least the caves and grottoes where skeletons and
paintings of prehistoric man had been found. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]