Page 86 of One Last Thing
‘Sorry but not surprised,’ she notes on my behalf. ‘Maybe surprised it took so long.’
She’s right, but you don’t say that sort of thing. ‘Every marriage is different.’
‘I did try. For a long time, I tried. But . . .’ She trails off and shrugs.
‘I’m sorry, Françoise, really,’ I say with more feeling this time.
She acknowledges it with a grateful smile. ‘Nico doesn’t believe it is finished. We’ve told him, but he thinks we can find our way back.’
‘Have you separated before?’
She nods. ‘A few years ago. But we were running the chateau, and this place—’ she gestures at our surroundings hopelessly‘—it wouldn’t let me go. He couldn’t leave either. It wasn’t a marriage, not for a long time.’
I give a small snort as I pick up my glass. ‘I’ve been there. A marriage that feels more like two old friends who find each other both irritating and irreplaceable.’
She pulls out the chair at the next table along and perches on it. ‘You and Henry?’
‘Well, I’m certainly not talking about my second marriage. That was a yo-yo between thrilling passion and foolish animosity. We were neverfriends. It was fun, though. I never knew how the day was going to play out and which crockery I was going to break.’
She laughs. ‘It sounds dramatic.’
‘It was. The complete opposite to Henry. I think that’s why I went with it. Trying to prove to myself that I wasn’t a hopeless case, I suppose. That true love could prevail.’
She watches me carefully. ‘It’s a nice thought. There is still hope for me.’
‘There is always hope, of course.’ I take another sip of my drink before looking at her. ‘But not for you and Mathieu.’
She shakes her head. ‘I need Nico to know that. It’s not fair.’
‘He is attached to you both. His mother was neglectful and had unsteady relationships, it makes sense that he’d be desperate for you and Mathieu to stay together. You’re the constant in his life.’
Françoise looks pained. ‘I hate that I am hurting him.’
‘You cannot force happiness for someone else. Believe me, I tried. Henry tried. Alotof people have tried. Nico is an adult, Françoise,’ I remind her with raised eyebrows. ‘He will understand that though you are not together, you are both still there for him.’
She brings her eyes up to meet mine. ‘I think if he knew the truth, he would understand.’
I tense. ‘What does Mathieu think?’
‘He thinks it’s time.’
Finishing my drink, I place the glass back on the table. I can feel her studying my every move, waiting expectantly for a blessing that was never mine to give.
‘And what do you think?’ she asks eventually, impatiently.
I rise to my feet and turn to smile down at her. ‘I think that you and Mathieu should do whatever you think best.’ She looks disappointed so I add, ‘But if it helps your decision, you might want to know that I’ve spent fifteen years lying because that’s what Henry wanted. He had his reasons. When he died, I realised how angry I was at him.’
‘You think we shouldn’t leave it until it’s too late,’ Françoise concludes, standing up, too, her hands clasped in front of her, her chin raised.
‘I think pride can distort everything,’ I clarify, feeling a headache coming on, ‘and I think the people who choose to love you should have the chance to do so no matter what mistakes you make, so long as you strive to do better. Otherwise, it’s not love, is it.’ I rub my forehead. ‘I’m going to go get ready for the party.’
‘Thank you, Dawn,’ she says.
I pause a moment. ‘Whatever decision you do make, please wait until we’ve left. I think Nico and Megan aregrowing close, and he might feel the need to tell her. If ever she should know, it shouldn’t come from him. It should come from me and I’d rather we’d fulfilled Henry’s wishes first.’
‘I understand,’ she says, before adding softly, ‘Nico never forgot Megan. When you stopped coming here, I wondered if he’d ever properly smile again.’
Turning away to wander back inside, I stroll through the restaurant and into reception, smiling calmly at the staff bustling past, preparing for the ball. My head is starting to throb and I become more urgent to get back to my room, sweat forming on my brow as I use the banister to drag me up the stairs. I pass Megan’s room and can hear the muffled sound of her voice, excitable and energetic, on the phone to her friend.
