Chapter thirty-three

C

harlotte paced up and down Gillian’s waiting room, a pretty little sitting room decorated in soft tones and furnished with linen-covered sofas. Intriguing artefacts from around the world lined the shelves. It was a room exuding calm and peace, but Charlotte was not seduced. She wanted to know what was happening in the adjoining consulting room.

Finally she heard the sound of voices as the door opened and Gillian preceded her mother into the room. Her smile said it all and she sagged with relief.

‘The tests look good, in fact better than I expected, and I’ve contacted La Folie about a room for Annette and she can arrive on Sunday,’ Gillian said, standing between them. ‘I’ll be spending more time in Guernsey myself while I wind down this practice. Malcolm wants me to be a consultant naturopathic doctor for the clinic.’

Charlotte’s eyebrows rose. ‘That’s good news, on both counts.’ She turned to her mother who, dressed immaculately in Armani, looked as if she’d been invited for afternoon tea rather than to receive vital test results. ‘I’m so happy for you, Mother.’

Annette nodded, a brief smile touching her lips.

The women said their goodbyes and left. Charlotte’s heart was singing. Not only was the prognosis looking better for her mother, but she could now plan her return to Guernsey. Annette was booked on an evening train to Somerset, having refused Charlotte’s offer of a lift, saying she was quite capable of travelling on her own. During the drive back to Bloomsbury, Charlotte said she would book her own flight for the next day and would keep in touch when they were both in Guernsey. Her mother made no comment and for once Charlotte was glad she showed a lack of interest in her life.

‘Did Gillian say whether or not your cancer can be…cured?’ she asked, tentatively.

A shadow crossed her mother’s face. ‘Hmm. No-one talks about a cure, only remission, particularly with liver cancer. However, she’s having good results with other patients and thinks I have a good chance of long-term remission myself. So in theory I could become cancer-free,’ she said, her voice wobbling.

‘Oh, Mother! I do hope so. I’m glad you’re at least giving yourself this chance to beat it,’ she said, gripping her mother’s hand. Unusually, Annette did not shrug it off. Charlotte had to let go to steer the car, but for a moment felt they were a little closer. With an inward sigh, she joined the line of traffic heading into central London.

Charlotte’s gaze swept over the waiting crowd and when her eyes caught those of Andy, her pulse raced as she ran into his arms and kissed him.

‘Hey, have you missed me so much? It’s only been a few days,’ he said, laughing.

‘Seems longer. So much has happened this week…’ She clung onto his arm as he steered her outside to his car. After stowing her case in the boot he took the driving seat, leaning over for a quick kiss before starting the engine.

‘I’ve given myself the afternoon off, thinking we could go shopping after lunch.’

Charlotte was puzzled. Andy, like many men, avoided shopping as much as possible.

‘Shopping? What for, groceries?’

‘No, silly. Don’t we need to choose something sparkly?’ he said, his eyes crinkled up in amusement.

‘Oh! A ring. I hadn’t expected you to buy it so soon.’ Her heart thumped with excitement at the thought and she leant across and kissed him.

‘I take it that’s a yes?’ he said, pulling away from the kerb. She nodded in agreement and settled back in the seat, looking forward to what promised to be a fabulous afternoon.

On Friday morning Andy left early to collect his father for their appointment with the advocate, leaving Charlotte to catch up with her writing. In theory. In practice she gazed dreamily at her ring, which caught the light while she attempted to type. Her first engagement ring, a traditional ruby and diamond, had been chosen by her ex-husband and she had never liked it, whereas both she and Andy had fallen in love with this ring, a pear-shaped emerald, surrounded by diamonds. Andy, saying the emeralds matched her eyes, had insisted on buying her matching earrings. She was touched by his thoughtfulness and generosity and planned to buy him an engagement present, once she had found something suitable. Giving up on her writing, she leant back in the chair and found herself thinking about the previous evening.

Andy had cooked supper and afterwards they had cuddled up together on the sofa, drinking wine and planning the future. Charlotte knew she had to say something, albeit belatedly, about the pretty important topic of children. The conversation about where they were to live would have to wait.

‘Andy, we haven’t really discussed whether or not we want children. What…what are your thoughts? Do you want children?’ she said, avoiding his gaze as the mass of butterflies once again filled her stomach.

He reached up and tilted her face towards him. ‘I’d always hoped to be a father one day, but I appreciate neither of us are as young as we were. If you’re happy to try it’s fine by me. But if you’d rather not, that’s okay too. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, darling, with or without children. Okay?’

The butterflies flew away and Charlotte smiled at her gorgeous, generous hearted man.

‘In which case, I’d like us to try for a baby, before we both become old and shrivelled.’

‘Great, from now on we can forget the, er, safety barrier and see what happens, shall we? And there’s no time like the present,’ he said, putting their glasses of wine out of harm’s way. She laughed and began to unbutton his shirt…

The memory of their passionate lovemaking brought a flush to her cheeks and Charlotte got up and went to make a coffee. It was going to be difficult to concentrate on the antics of Lady Emma Hamilton today, she thought, although there were similarities. She daydreamed instead about what it would be like to be a mother. Scary – and wonderful. She was sure Andy would make a brilliant father and for a moment felt the loss of her own. Her child – if she had one – would be deprived of a lovely grandfather and she would have loved her father to be around to dote on it, as he had her.

Twisting her ring around her finger, she thought of the potential grandparents she had yet to meet. Charlotte thought they sounded lovely and she and Andy had agreed they would visit them together on Saturday with their news. On Sunday she would introduce Andy to her mother, relieving them of the need for secrecy. Except where the ‘other’ Batistes were concerned. She would go alone to Maud’s funeral and slip away unnoticed after the service. Harold would find out soon enough who she really was.

***

Andy was jubilant as he and his father left the advocate’s office, but his father looked pensive.

‘What’s the matter, Dad? I know he said it could take months to sort out the legal stuff, but at least he was convinced your case is watertight and Harold should never have tried to bamboozle you the way he did. You and Mum will be able to buy whatever you need,’ he said, glancing at his father’s frowning face.

Jim turned towards him, saying, ‘I’m not too sure about this DNA lark, son. If we do need to use one as proof, how are we going to get Harold or Dave to agree? Don’t think I would, in their shoes.’

‘Oh, that’s what’s bothering you! I shouldn’t worry, Dave’s DNA will be on file thanks to his police record, and once Harold’s arrested the police could take his DNA. In any event, the advocate was sure it wouldn’t come to it. Trust me, Dad, it’ll be fine. Why don’t you and Mum start looking for a cruise, sometime next year? Do you good to travel a bit,’ Andy said, opening the car door for Jim.

His father’s face lightened. ‘Well, if you think we could. I’ve always wanted to visit the Mediterranean countries, somewhere warm for my old bones. I suppose we should be able to afford it.’

Andy, slipping into his seat, burst out laughing. ‘Afford it? Dad, the estate’s worth millions, and I’d guess there’s a pretty penny in the bank too. You could afford to cruise around the world for the rest of your lives if you wished.’

‘Now that does sound like a good idea! Your mother wouldn’t need to cook or clean and we could live like lords,’ Jim said, chuckling. ‘I’ll tell you one thing, son, I don’t want to live in his big house. Wouldn’t feel comfortable. How about I give it to you?’

Andy gasped. ‘What? Very generous of you, Dad, but I wouldn’t want it either. You could put it up for sale and buy something more to your taste, and still have money over. Unless you do decide to spend your life at sea, then you won’t need a house.'

Jim grinned and they drove back to St Sampson to tell Yvette the good news.

Half an hour later, Andy left his parents happily discussing cruises versus land-based holidays and drove back to his office. His own reason for celebration bubbled away inside, and he could hardly contain his happiness, wanting to shout it to the world. Another twenty-four hours and he could proudly present his beautiful fiancée to his parents. Now that would be a shock for them. Andy knew his mother was anxious for him to settle down and give her grandchildren, which he fervently wanted himself. He had not dared to hope Charlotte would want a family, after all she was thirty-nine and had her business to run. When she said she would like to try he was over the moon, wanting it to happen as soon as possible. But he had been truthful when he said he wanted her even if there couldn’t be children. He counted himself a lucky man to have won her love.

Then he recalled they still hadn’t discussed the thorny subject of where they lived. Not something he was keen to bring up. He had thought he would live in his cottage forever, had done much of the work himself. And he didn’t want Charlotte throwing her money around, either. Gripping the steering wheel, he wondered how they were going to resolve it. All he knew was he didn’t want to lose her.

***

Charlotte twisted and turned, checking her reflection in the mirror. She had decided a skirt and jacket would be the better option for meeting her future in-laws, a more feminine look, and more likely to be approved of by the French Yvette. She didn’t realise how nervous she was until Andy came into the room unexpectedly and she jumped.

He looked amused. ‘I don’t know why you’re so anxious about creating the right impression, I’m the one you’re marrying and anyway, they’ll love you on sight. Just like me,’ he said, grabbing her and giving her a kiss.

‘It’s all very well for you to say, but you wait until you have to face my mother tomorrow and then we’ll see who’s nervous,’ she teased.

‘You’re right, I am scared of facing your mother, the Lady Annette Townsend no less, and telling her I’m marrying her daughter. She doesn’t sound the type to be impressed by a mere architect,’ he replied, widening his eyes in mock fear.

Charlotte laughed. ‘I don’t think my mother’s bothered who I marry and if a mere architect is good enough for me, then it’s all that matters. Now, be serious and tell me if I look okay?’ She swirled round and he gave her the thumbs up.

‘Come on or we’ll be late and Mum hates people being late for a meal. I’m hoping she’s cooked one of her French specials in honour of le petite amie. God knows what she’d serve up if she knew you’re my fiancée!’

She grabbed her bag and followed him downstairs, picking up the bouquet of flowers she had bought earlier. Andy collected a bottle of Krug from the fridge before locking up. Charlotte, glancing at the heavy grey clouds, hoped the threatened rain would hold off for the afternoon, any moisture would turn her smooth waves to frizz in seconds. She fiddled with the ring under her glove while Andy drove through the middle of the island towards St Sampson, along roads new to her. The car was soon filled with the perfume of the oriental lilies in the bouquet, reminding Charlotte of her mother’s hothouse at home. Although her passion was roses, Annette liked to grow a few exotic flowers in her hothouse, often filled with an almost overpowering mix of scents from the result of her efforts. Or, to be more exact, those of the gardener.

Thinking of her now, Charlotte wondered how tomorrow’s lunch would pan out, not feeling quite as confident as she had sounded earlier. Deciding it was silly to worry now, she focused instead on the music playing on the CD and was soon carried along by Amy Winehouse, accompanied by an off-key Andy. Minutes later he pulled into the small drive of a semi-detached cottage in a lane not far from St Sampson Harbour, or the Bridge as the locals called it. As Charlotte stepped out of the car she saw a curtain twitch and smiled at Andy.

‘Someone’s checking me out.’

Taking her hand he led her to the front door, which opened before he could ring the bell.

The slim, attractive woman, wearing a mid-length skirt and silky blouse, received a kiss from Andy, then turned and smiled at her. ‘Hello, you must be Charlotte. I’m Yvette, please, do come in,’ she said, opening the door wide.

‘Pleased to meet you…Yvette. These are for you,’ she said, thrusting the bouquet into her arms.

‘Oh, they are beautiful, thank you.’ They exchanged kisses. ‘Come, my husband is in here.’ She pointed to the sitting room and Andy, still holding her hand, went in. Yvette disappeared, presumably to put the flowers in water. As Charlotte entered, a thin grey-haired man with smiling brown eyes, stood up slowly and shook her hand. The skin of his hand felt rough and calloused but the grip was firm. She liked him immediately.

‘Charlotte, that’s a nice name. Mine’s Jim. Please sit down, Yvette will be back in a minute.’

She sat on the sofa next to Andy, who had nodded at his father before sitting down. She hoped Yvette would return soon, feeling awkward sitting there with her gloves on. Andy had just opened his mouth when Yvette bustled in to join them.

‘Alors, how lovely it is to meet a friend of Andy’s. Is it a long time you have known each other?’

Andy cleared his throat. ‘A few months. Actually, Maman, I…we’ve got something to tell you both. Charlotte and I are engaged.’ He lifted her hand, removing the glove to display the sparkling stones.

Yvette’s hand flew to her mouth and Jim’s jaw dropped. For a moment both were speechless and then Yvette reached over to embrace first Charlotte and then Andy, saying, ‘I am so happy for you both. But such a surprise. Andy, such a bad boy you are to say nothing!’ She tapped his arm.

Jim offered his congratulations, his face split in a wide smile. Andy reached into the bag at his feet and pulled out the Krug. ‘Shall we have a glass to celebrate? Or is lunch ready, Maman?’

‘Oh, lunch will wait! S’il vous plait Andy, fetch the glasses and we will have an aperitif, non?’ Yvette’s face was flushed with pleasure and Charlotte hoped her own mother would be as happy with the news. After they had raised their glasses in a toast, Andy told his parents how he and Charlotte had become close over the weeks. Even Jim’s eyes misted over while Andy talked and Yvette had to dab at the occasional tear. The story continued once lunch – coq au vin – was served and by the time she and Andy left, Charlotte was left in no doubt she was a welcome addition to the family. Hugs and kisses, accompanied by cries of ‘come again soon’, enveloped her as she stood at the front door. Andy gently propelled her out and into the car, returning the waves of his excited parents as they drove away.

‘Phew! Sorry about that, hope you didn’t find them too much. But Mum is French so…’ he shrugged.

‘I thought they were lovely and you’re lucky to have such loving parents. You might find meeting my mother will be rather different. And,’ she said laughing, ‘I suspect it won’t be long before Yvette will be asking you if there’s likely to be any petit enfants on the horizon.’

‘Well, we’re working on that, aren’t we?’ he said, stroking her thigh. ‘Perhaps we shouldn’t delay the wedding, just in case.’

‘Mm, fine by me, as long as my mother’s stable I’d be happy to make it soon. Let’s see how she is tomorrow and we can start making plans.’ She squeezed his hand, her heart thumping at the ever-closer prospect of shortly becoming Mrs Andy Batiste. Having met his parents and seen for herself their modest lifestyle and the tiny home where he had grown up, she did again wonder about the issue of their future home.

‘Andy, I think we need to talk when we get home.’