Jake looks at me, his jaw dropping ever so slightly before he has time to compose himself.
‘What do you mean?’ His brow knits together, and I can see a moment of doubt flash over his face.
‘Mason lured me to his house under false pretences and then tried to force himself on me. You didn’t even ask for my side of the story and I regret panicking now and not making it clear what really happened. But the way you sacked me so publicly and the statement that was issued the following day… you must have known my life would unravel.’
He sits forward on the edge of the sofa, looking visibly shaken.
‘I had no idea. Mason said there was an argument and you lashed out. He was the CEO’s nephew, for goodness’ sake. When I received the call from the top it was clear, either I handled it as instructed, or you were going to be charged with assault. I thought I was saving your future after you’d made a stupid mistake, not simply looking out for my own career.’
‘But you didn’t think to check with me, first?’
‘I was moving abroad, managing the sale of my house and getting the last of my things put into storage. There was a handover to be done and suddenly I had a big mess to sort out. Lexie, please tell me you haven’t spent the last six years thinking the worst of me? Do you really think that I have no conscience at all, or that I’d let anyone treat my own sister in that disgusting way?’
I look past Jake to see Ronan hovering in the doorway, not sure quite what to do. How long he’s been standing there, I have no idea, but I beckon him in. Trying desperately to swallow and force down the lump in my throat, I stand.
‘Sorry, Ronan, I didn’t introduce you. This, as you’ve no doubt gathered, is my brother, Jake.’
Ronan steps forward, holding out his hand, but his eyes are steely. Jake immediately jumps up, walking towards Ronan, and I can see the handshake is a firm one. The contact between them is cagey, very alpha male.
‘I’m Lexie’s boyfriend,’ Ronan says rather gruffly.
‘Oh. I see. Well, nice to meet you, Ronan, and I’m sorry, as I seem to have caused offence by not informing Lexie I was coming. It was a spur-of-the-moment thing. Please, you two, don’t let me keep you from the celebration. This was a bad idea and—’
He sounds genuinely regretful and I wish instead he’d just lost his cool and stormed off. Now I have to handle this somehow.
‘Have you eaten?’ I ask, floundering to find something to say. Jake turns back to look at me. Over his shoulder Ronan is making faces and it’s obvious he wants me to send Jake away.
‘No. I dropped my stuff off at the hotel and had the taxi bring me to the address I’d been given. Only Brooke, my wife, knows I’m here. I wish now I’d spoken to Mum, or Shellie, first. They thought I was just going to send you a card.’
‘Look, I don’t want there to be any animosity today, as that wouldn’t be fair on Solange and her fiancé. Ronan, would you mind introducing Jake to Renée and Philippe, then take him over to the buffet? It will look odd now if he just disappears. I need a moment or two to touch up my make-up and then I’ll join you.’
Both men stare at me and I can’t look them in the face. A few seconds later I’m alone and I collapse down onto the sofa.
‘Why today of all days?’ I murmur between gritted teeth.
The thing I really can’t get over is that, as far as I can tell, he has nothing to gain from his rash decision to come and see me. Did he really come all this way expecting me to what… burst into tears and hug him like a dutiful sister?
There are always two sides to every story. Obviously, Jake’s version is very different from the one I’ve been stewing over. Now I find myself wondering if he wasn’t quite the villain I thought he was. Nothing could have prepared me for that; nothing.
25
A Twilight Confession
At the height of the party there must be nearly fifty people milling around, lots of comings and goings, as some head for home and others arrive. The buffet table is cleared and early evening a guy arrives with a huge frying pan, the biggest I’ve ever seen. It takes two of them to set everything up and light a fire in a huge metal cage. Once the coals are hot, the oil in the pan starts to sizzle and it’s quickly filled with wild boar and apple sausages, spicy Andouillettes and the moist, distinctive boudins blancs.
The buffet table is filled with baskets of sliced baguette and condiments. There are bowls of several different types of mustard, some very peppery and spicy; and some milder sauces similar to a classic béarnaise, the latter made from scratch by Renée.
As the light begins to fade the ambience is more intimate and people are happier sitting now, some wonderful French songs wafting out from number one. Slowly people start drifting home or settling in groups, and eventually I can no longer avoid my brother.
Ronan steers us to a table in the far corner, which looks directly across at the gorgeous water display. This was supposed to be such a perfect day and it has been for everyone, thank goodness, but not for me, or Jake, or Ronan, for that matter.
Ronan has continued to grit his teeth and introduce Jake to keep him circulating. It took Jake a while to get over the shock of my initial reaction, but he’s a sociable person by nature. Put him in amongst a group of people and he’ll find something to talk about. In fairness, his French is pretty good, because when he was fifteen, he took part in one of those school foreign-exchange programmes. He spent a month living with a French family, near Toulouse, and a young man named Luc took his place at home with us. As the youngest, I can’t really remember much about it, only that I felt we had the best deal.
Have I always resented my brother just a tad? I wonder. The fact he was older and had more freedom, more ability? That need, as the youngest of three, to be heard, even though you don’t really have much to say that hasn’t already been said.
‘Are we going to sit here eating in total silence the entire time?’ Ronan enquires, sitting between us as we stab at the delicious food on our plates, rather than making eye contact.
‘You’re right. This is ridiculous. Look, Jake, I don’t want to talk about the past tonight. You’re here now, so you might as well bring me up to date on your news. It was a shock to hear that Mum had sold the house and I am a little worried about that, to be honest.’
Jake has hardly touched his food yet, I notice, but he picks up a chunk of crunchy baguette, opening it up to manoeuvre slices of sausages inside. It does smell delicious and, after having skipped lunch, I follow suit, because my stomach is beginning to complain.
‘You can’t repeat this,’ he says, pausing for a second as he chews, ‘but she’s tired of worrying about the maintenance of the old house. It’s too big for her and, as much as it’s full of memories, the last handyman she had has now retired. Mum said that she phones a plumber and he doesn’t turn up, so she rings again, and they promise they’ll call round to price up the job, but they don’t. The same with the garden. It’s too much for her and she’s had a succession of people in to cut the grass and trim the bushes and hedges she can’t reach. She’ll find someone good and then after a while they either say the job is too small, or they suddenly stop calling in.’