The following Friday after she had finished work, David picked her up and they set off for Avignon in the Mercedes, stopping for the night in a luxury hotel on the Tuscan coast, just north of Viareggio. This was a very stylish modern hotel and their room had a broad terrace looking out over the tops of a forest of umbrella pines towards the deep blue of the Mediterranean with its unbroken sweep of golden sandy beach. Behind them, the view was even more spectacular up into the nearby mountains which, at first sight, looked as though they were covered in snow. In fact the hotel was very near Carrara, home to Italy’s famous white marble quarries, and the setting sun shed a gentle pink glow across the dusty white slopes. It was a very romantic spot.
Their room was huge, with a massive – and inviting – king size bed. The bathroom was as big as her bedroom at home and unsurprisingly in there the floor, walls, basin and shower were all clad in marble. Everything was spotlessly clean, ultra-modern and doubtless vastly expensive. Dinner that evening on the immaculate rooftop terrace was excellent and she couldn’t fault any of it. The service was impeccable, the wine exquisite, the view stunning. Her companion was cheerful, attentive and very appealing. It should have been a wonderful evening except that her annoying Jiminy Cricket of a conscience kept snapping at her heels throughout, as thoughts of Ahmed and Rahel, and her good friend Miriam – now missing for months – threatened to dampen the mood.
After a long, languorous, loving night, they both went for a swim in the sea in the morning and the cool water finally managed to clear her head. As she swam idly about, relishing the refreshing feel of the water on her skin, she gave herself a serious talking-to. She was going to a good friend’s wedding with the man she loved. So he was rich; she knew that he was a good man at heart. Money didn’t always have to be a bad thing if it was in the right hands. She was alive, she was healthy, and she had every reason in the world to be happy. And that was what she was going to be. As she had told her parents, the future could look after itself for now.
She swam over to where David was floating on his back, caught hold of him and hugged him so tightly, they both disappeared under water. Trying to kiss him underwater was a step too far and they both emerged coughing and spluttering, but she was still hanging onto him.
‘What was that in aid of?’ He was grinning at her.
‘That was me telling you I really do love you, David Lorenzo, and I never want you to forget that.’
‘And if I promise never to forget it, you promise not to try to drown me again?’
‘It’s a deal.’ She kissed him again and she knew she had meant every word of what she had said.
The wedding took place in a lovely old Romanesque church in Nicole’s charming Provençal village, just outside Avignon. As they walked in and took their seats, she saw a number of faces turn towards them and recognition dawn on many as they caught sight of David’s tall form. But, for once, Lucy barely noticed as she suddenly stopped and stared. There, sitting in the second row, was a very familiar face. Breaking the respectful silence of the little church, Lucy set off down the aisle at a run and almost threw herself into the arms of her friend.
‘Miriam, it’s you. You’re alive.’
‘Lucy, Lucy, Lucy, it’s so good to see you, my gorgeous girl. Nicole told me you were coming today so I thought I’d give you a little surprise.’
Lucy looked around and smiled apologetically at the other guests as she grabbed David’s hand and pulled him down alongside her to sit with Miriam.
While the organ continued to play quietly in the background, Lucy quizzed her about what had happened. The story was almost as awful as she had feared. Miriam and her little group of patients and colleagues had ended up hiding out in a tiny encampment in the inhospitable bush, without electricity or any connection to the outside world. They had stayed there, in fear for their lives, for almost three months while rival warring factions had rampaged throughout the area. Only a few weeks ago the fighting had finally moved on and things had calmed down enough for the group to make their way once more out into open country and, ultimately, back to civilisation.
Miriam had travelled on to Kinshasa and flown from there to France barely two days ago. Lucy clung to her arm and listened intently, her delight at finding her friend alive and well threatening to make her burst into song. Fortunately for the others in the church, before this could happen the organ struck up the wedding march and the ceremony began.
The reception was in a big marquee pitched alongside the ruins of a Roman villa only a hundred yards from the church. The sun was shining, the surroundings were charming, and everything went well. As they got there, Lucy immediately spotted Geneviève and took David across to meet her. They embraced and exchanged news. Geneviève told them she had found a good job in an immigration reception centre close to where she lived in northern France. The man on her arm was introduced as Didier, her ‘petit-ami’, which sounded promising. Didier turned out to be a tennis coach and he appeared overwhelmed to meet David and soon the two men were chatting amicably in a mixture of English and French, which David spoke unexpectedly well.
The bride and groom appeared and Lucy embraced them both warmly. After hearing so much about François from Nicole while in Mabenta, Lucy felt she already knew Nicole’s new husband well. She introduced David and saw Nicole do a double take before glancing back at her with a broad grin and a wink.
‘I’m so pleased to see you looking so happy, Lucy. And – don’t take this the wrong way – but you’ve put on a few kilos and you look a whole lot better for it.’ She turned to David. ‘We were quite worried about Lucy, you know. She was working herself into the ground at the clinic.’
He smiled back at her. ‘I can imagine. That’s the sort of person she is. That’s why I love her so much.’
Nicole’s eyes flicked to Lucy’s, presumably as she registered his choice of vocabulary, before she winked at David. ‘Everybody loves Lucy.’
‘Not as much as I do.’ He caught hold of Lucy’s arm and pulled her close. ‘She’s one of a kind.’
‘Stop it, you two. David, this is the bride’s day. Please can we change the subject away from me?’
They chatted for a while about friends and colleagues back in Africa, and Lucy was delighted to hear that most of the patients who had disappeared into the bush along with Miriam had managed to make a good recovery in spite of the circumstances. There had even been a successful birth of a healthy baby girl. All things considered, it could have worked out far, far worse and the sense of dread Lucy had been harbouring gradually subsided. She was interested to hear that Miriam was planning on staying here in France. She had dual nationality, French and Congolese, and had studied in Toulouse before returning to her native land some fifteen years earlier. But now she, too, was calling it a day.
‘I’m going to work with Geneviève at the refugee centre in Lille. It’ll be good to be back in France, although I’m not looking forward to the cold winters again. Mind you, at least here there shouldn’t be any more crazy men with guns.’
Nicole stayed with them for some minutes, although the subject soon returned to Lucy. One thing Nicole said to her really resonated. ‘What’s it like working in an upmarket private hospital? Somehow I never expected to find you in a place like that.’
Lucy nodded slowly, choosing her words carefully. ‘I know what you mean. I was worried, too, at first, but I’m settling in. I spoke to Doctor Brown, you know, the MSF director in London, before accepting the job and she told me not to worry – they’re all patients who need my help. So they have money, so what? All right, from time to time there are a few very questionable patients there, although the vast majority are just like you and me.’ She shot a little smile in David’s direction. ‘And some of them are really very nice.’
She saw him smile back and she could see he was listening carefully. ‘So, you aren’t thinking of leaving?’ Miriam sounded interested. ‘You’re not thinking of going back to the Congo, are you?’
‘I’m not thinking anything at the moment. As a place to work, the Siena Clinic’s very different from Mabenta, but I enjoy the work, I like my boss, and it’s meant I’ve been able to find myself a little cottage, and I love Tuscany.’ She reached up and kissed David on the cheek. ‘And my neighbour up the hill’s a pretty good guy. As for the Congo, no, Miriam, I think I’ll go for somewhere a bit less violent next time.’
‘Next time? So you are thinking of going back to MSF?’ Nicole didn’t miss much.
‘I really don’t know, Nic. I’m just enjoying things as they are for now.’ She glanced up at David. ‘And they really couldn’t be much better.’
That night Lucy and David stayed at a beautiful old hotel right in the centre of Avignon, their room looking out over the rooftops to the towers and battlements of the medieval Palais des Papes. Once again, their room was luxurious and immaculate and once again Lucy had to suppress that same familiar sensation of not belonging. Still, she told herself as she snuggled up against him in the soft, comfortable bed, it didn’t get much better than this.
Did it?