A Sudden Change of Heart

She said swiftly, ‘I know you love her, Hercule, I’ve known it for a long time. You don’t have to be embarrassed or feel shy with me. I do understand. And I’m glad you love her, glad you care so much about Claire.’

Looking relieved, he answered, with a slight nod, ‘I am pleased I have told you this, and I thank you, my dear, for your understanding.’ He lifted his glass and took a sip of his Scotch.

Laura, also sipping her drink, asked, a moment later, ‘What do you mean when you say you feel apprehensive?’

‘As I told you, I do not think she is well, but I cannot explain why I feel this, not in a rational way. I thought she looked tired, worn out, yesterday, with the black smudges underneath her eyes, and so very thin. At one moment, when she turned to speak to me, the light fell upon her and she looked…like a skeleton, and so ill. I was frightened.’

‘Perhaps it was just the way the lights on the set hit her face; you know that can happen.’

‘Yes, that is true. I tried to tell myself this last night. I reviewed the time I had spent with her at the studio, and certainly she had been energetic, as she always is. But –’ He cut himself off again, sat back drinking his Scotch and soda; his eyes were troubled, his shoulders taut with anxiety.

Laura could see how upset he was, and she waited until he had collected himself before she said slowly, ‘What do you think is wrong with Claire? You say you think she’s ill, but with what?’

He lifted his hands in that typical gesture of his and shook his head. ‘Alas, I do not know, Laura.’ He sighed and continued, ‘I push the worry away, as I did when we were at Jacqueline’s earlier. Yet it creeps back into my mind. Has she…has she confided anything in you?’

‘Nothing, Hercule, and I’m sure she would if she were sick, or worried about herself. She did mention you’d chastised her about the weight loss, and she is thinner, I agree with you. But I didn’t think she looked ill last night over dinner.’

‘The cosmetics, they help,’ he said pointedly.

‘That’s true. She’s very…’ Laura paused and did not continue, changing her mind all of a sudden.

Hercule, looking at her intently, asked, ‘She’s what?’

Laura shook her head and answered softly, ‘She’s still very angry. About her bad marriage, about men, or perhaps one man. It seems to eat her up at times, consume her. Perhaps it’s just that, the anger, the disappointment. Plus working hard, being tired occasionally.’ Leaning forward, Laura put one hand on his arm. ‘Try not to worry so much. I don’t think she’s sick, Hercule, I really don’t.’

Her words seemed to help him to relax, and the tight lines around his eyes eased slightly. ‘I hope you are correct. When you love a woman as I love her, it is worrying if she seems…well, not herself.’

Taking the plunge, Laura said, ‘Why don’t you tell her how you feel, Hercule? Tell her you love her?’

‘Oh but I could not do that, Laura. Never, never. Claire does not feel the same way about me as I feel about her. I am afraid. Yes, I admit that to you, Laura, I am afraid to tell her. I do not want to lose her, you see, and I might, if she…knew how I truly felt. Being her friend, and part of her life is so important to me.’

‘You ought to tell her. You might be surprised how she reacts.’

‘Laura, how can you of all people in the world, say that to me? Mon Dieu! You have just told me that she is angry about her failed marriage, about him. No, there is no room for me in her life, as much as I want there to be.’

His gently-spoken words seemed to strike at Laura, and she flinched inside. She sat back in her chair, thinking how sad it was that Claire was being so cruel to herself, and was, in a way, punishing herself without reason. No room for me in her life. She replayed his words of a moment ago in her mind, and she knew it was true, and that this was indeed a tragedy. Hercule was much older, but he was a good-looking man, well-built, tall, and strong as an ox, and he was a kind and loving human being. He would have looked after Claire, protected her, given her so much.

He said, ‘Maybe I worry about nothing. Is that what you are thinking?’

She shook her head. ‘No, I was thinking how sad it is that Claire has this attitude about…life.’

‘You do not think she is ill?’

‘No, I do not. In fact, I’m positive she isn’t, at least not in the way you mean. Not physically.’

‘Mentally?’ he asked, his voice growing slightly sharper; he stared at her intently.

‘No. I don’t mean that either. She’s very sane, our Claire. But she is a tormented woman, Hercule, and I don’t know how to help her. I have tried for years.’

‘Do you think…she still loves her ex-husband?’

‘No. I think she is filled with hatred for him.’

Hercule was silent for a moment, sat nursing his drink. Eventually he lifted his head and looked into Laura’s eyes, and his own were moist with tears. ‘What a terrible waste. How tragic that is…to cut yourself off…to deny yourself the possibility of love in that way.’

‘Yes,’ Laura said, her voice a whisper.

Later that evening, after a light supper in her room, Laura worked on her papers for a while. But for once in her life her concentration was fleeting. Finally, she put down her pen and sat back in her chair.

She was troubled about Claire.

Not in the way that Hercule was, not about her physical health, but about her mental state. Claire had harboured a dislike of Philippe ever since their break-up, perhaps even before that. But now it had turned to hatred and Laura couldn’t understand why.

Claire had changed in the last six months. In the summer, when she and Doug had been in Paris, Claire had been much more relaxed, more at ease with herself. Now Laura realized that Claire was taut, full of tension, and at times she could be quite volatile.

Laura could not help asking herself why there had been this change. She’s alone and lonely, Laura thought, rising, walking across the room to the window. Parting the curtains, she looked down into the courtyard below. In spring and summer it was a garden restaurant; now it was devoid of flowers and furniture, a simple paved yard flooded with light from the windows of the rooms that looked down onto it. Empty, cold, uninviting. Like Claire’s life. If only she could meet someone. A nice man of the right age with whom she could fall in love, perhaps settle down with. But Laura knew instinctively that this would not happen because Claire would not permit it. She’s her own worst enemy, Laura muttered under her breath, loving her friend but at the same time feeling suddenly somewhat disturbed and critical about her behaviour. I want to help her and I don’t know how to do that, Laura said to herself, remembering how difficult that had always been, even when they were children. Claire had tried to be so independent and brave, but Laura had always sensed, even then, that she was afraid. Claire had been…timid. That was a good word to use to describe her. Her grandmother had once said that: ‘Claire’s a scared little thing, isn’t she? So timid and reluctant.’ She had often wondered what Claire was frightened of when they were little, and once or twice she had asked her, but Claire denied her fear. There was one thing, and it came rushing back to Laura. Her grandmother had never really liked Claire’s parents. She had said her mother was ineffectual and her father a womanizer. But those were not reasons for Claire to be frightened, were they?

Sighing under her breath, Laura turned away from the window, got undressed and went to bed. Feeling wide awake she zapped on CNN and lay watching it for an hour. She had just turned it and the light off when the phone rang; reaching for it she said, ‘Hello?’

‘Hi, darling,’ Doug answered.

‘I wish you were here,’ Laura grumbled.

‘I can be there if you want.’

‘But not fast enough for me.’

‘How’s three seconds?’

‘Three seconds? What are you talking about?’

‘I’ll be right up,’ he replied, and laughed. ‘I’m in the lobby.’

5 (#ulink_e0b2caf3-a258-5cb5-ac8d-bc257975d003)

‘What are you doing in Paris?’ Laura asked, smiling at Doug as he came through the door. ‘You’re supposed to be in Los Angeles.’

‘I was never going there. I lied. I wanted to surprise you, darling.’

‘You succeeded,’ she said, and came into his arms.

Pushing the door closed with his foot, Doug held her close to him for a moment then bent down and kissed her on the mouth. Finally pulling away, he said, ‘I thought a weekend in Paris would be great for both of us. So here I am.’

‘I’m thrilled, it’s just wonderful, that’s all I have to say.’

He walked across the room, his arm around her shoulders, and said, ‘So whatever you have planned I think you should cancel it. I want you all to myself.’

‘I’m glad you do, and I feel the same way. There’s no problem about cancelling things. All I have are two appointments with galleries, but they don’t matter all that much. Oh but Doug, I told Claire I’d have dinner at the apartment tomorrow night. I can’t really cancel that.’