As Ella leaned closer, to catch the man’s stories above the rising hubbub, she was aware that Christophe seemed to be watching her rather than listening to the chatter of the group that surrounded him.
Her children approached, and Christophe continued to watch her as she introduced them. She noticed a look of pain, fleeting as a flicker of lightning, that pulsed in his eyes as she drew her children close to her side, and she wondered whether it had been a mistake to come back to the Île de Ré after all. Perhaps she should have let it be, allowed time to dissolve the bond of their friendship rather than perpetuating it across the years. Despite the clarity of the opalescent sky above the roofs of Saint Martin, where swallows dipped and soared beyond the church tower on the hillside across the harbour, she had a sudden foreboding, as heavy as gathering storm-clouds. What would happen in a week’s time when the holidays came to an end and it was time to board the train that would carry them away from the island and back to their lives in Edinburgh? It would be impossible to get on that train. It would be impossible not to.
‘There you go.’ Christophe carried Robbie up the stairs and deposited him gently on the bed, so as not to wake him.
‘Thank you,’ whispered Ella. He watched from the bedroom doorway as she eased off her son’s shoes and drew the covers over him, stooping to brush the hair from his forehead and plant a kiss there. Christophe turned away and, without a word, went back downstairs, his limp making his footsteps thud unevenly on alternate steps.
‘Goodnight.’ Ella kissed Rhona and tucked her in, moving across the room to pull the shutters to. The night breeze stirred the muslin curtains, soft as the breath of sleep. ‘You were a wonderful help at Caroline’s party tonight, my grown-up girl.’
‘Thank you. And Mummy?’
‘Yes, Rhona?’
‘It’s only one more week to go until we see Daddy again, isn’t it?’
Ella nodded.
‘That’s good. I think he must be missing us, don’t you?’
She nodded again. ‘Night, night. Off to sleep now.’
Rhona yawned, then tuned on to her side, pulling her pillow close and wriggling into a more comfortable position. Her mother hesitated for a moment, watching as Rhona’s eyes closed, her lashes fluttering, delicate as butterfly wings against the roses of her cheeks. And then Ella turned and left the room.
Christophe sat on the terrace, his head tilted back, watching the stars. She sat down on the chair beside his and followed suit, gazing into the night sky.
Caroline had gone home with her artist at the end of the evening. ‘Are you sure you’ll be alright?’ she’d asked Ella, holding her at arm’s length and scrutinising her face. ‘I can easily put him off for another time.’
Ella had laughed. ‘Don’t you dare! We’ll be fine. I don’t want to be the one to get in the way of your love life – I feel we’ve probably been a bit of a hindrance on that front already this summer.’
They’d found Robbie curled up behind Caroline’s desk, sound asleep. ‘Here,’ offered Christophe. ‘I’ll carry him to the car. Let me drive you home. You’ll need a hand at the other end.’
So they were alone together. Ella wondered fleetingly if it had been engineered? And, if so, by whom? Caroline? Christophe? Or by Ella herself, who could, after all, have turned down the offer of help and driven the children home on her own. Was it all three of them, conspiring together? Or could she blame it on something else? On Angus’s affair? Or was it just fate?
Above them, the Milky Way was a river of light, flowing through the blackness of the night. As she watched, Ella felt as though she were being pulled into its stream, swept along, unresisting suddenly.
And then she knew, with utter certainty, that leaving Christophe again was impossible. That, in a life filled with impossibilities, this single truth was the only one that mattered. She and the children would stay here on the island and they would make a life together with him.
Without a word, she stood and held out her hand to him. He looked up at her, pain and fear clouding his expression, and shook his head.
She took his hand in hers, then nodded, her eyes still locked on his, her smile calm and clear.
She pulled him to his feet and they walked, hand in hand, to the dunes, which gathered them once more into their hidden embrace, secreting them away from the world of impossibilities, in a place where the only certainty was love.
When she woke, just as the blue mist of dawn crept across the beach, he was no longer lying beside her. She turned, drowsily, and saw him there, his pencil whispering across the page of his sketch-book as he drew her. When he lifted his eyes to glance at her again, she was smiling at him.
‘This will be my greatest masterpiece, Ella. All these years, it has been waiting to be created. But now is the time.’ He sketched a few more lines, then carefully closed his sketch-book and stood, holding out his hand to her.
They brushed the sand from their clothes and, hand still clasping hand, walked back to the house before the children awoke.
It seemed that Caroline sensed something had changed the moment she saw them together. She drove Christophe back to the apartment above the gallery after lunch and on her return she suggested that they all go down to the beach to collect shells.
She and Ella sat against the soft flank of the dunes, watching Rhona and Robbie as they pottered up and down the strand-line, busy as sandpipers, each with a bucket to fill.
‘Ella,’ Caroline said, gazing out towards the sea, unable to look her friend in the eye. ‘I know. Christophe has told me, about your decision last night to leave Angus. Tell me, please, that in the clear light of day you have reconsidered.’
Ella shook her head. ‘No. If anything, I’m more determined than ever. There is so much for me here – a life with Christophe, the possibility of happiness, freedom too. I have none of that back home in Edinburgh.’
‘I know it’s hard, Ella. But think of your children. What is going to happen to them?’
‘I’ll keep them here. You’ve said yourself how happy and well they look now. I know it’ll be a big adjustment for them, but they’ll adapt. Children do.’
‘But Angus? Rhona, especially, will never forgive you. She talks about her daddy constantly. It will be a terrible wrench for her.’
‘Angus should have thought of that before he embarked on his affair,’ Ella retorted angrily, seared by guilt which she tried to block out. ‘He is the one who initiated all this. He is as much responsible for the outcome as I am.’ She brushed away furious tears that suddenly blurred her vision as she watched the two small figures at the water’s edge, heads bent over their latest find.
‘Two wrongs don’t make a right. You know that, Ella.’ Caroline’s voice was gentle, carefully non-judgemental. ‘But Angus won’t give up his children without a fight. Are you prepared to lose them? Because it may come to that. If you choose to leave your marriage, the court may rule that the children must stay with their father. And you have only experienced the Île de Ré in the summer. It’s entirely different in wintertime when the Atlantic gales lash the island. What about schooling for your children? What if Robbie needs more medical attention sometime? All of these questions will be taken into account when some judge is deciding which of you gets to keep Rhona and Robbie. It will tear you apart, Ella. It will tear them apart.’
‘No. You’re wrong, Caroline. People make their lives here, children grow up here. We can too. I know it will be painful for a while, but when Angus sees how strong Robbie has grown, how well they are both looking, he will have to admit this is the best place for them.’ She held up a hand to silence Caroline’s next objection. ‘Please. Don’t make this harder than it already is. I need you to help me through it, not to try to talk me out of it.’
Ella stood up and dusted the sand from her skirt. She walked away, up the beach towards the children.
Christophe arrived the next morning and scooped them all into the car. ‘Come on. I’m taking you to one of the wilder beaches today. It’s a beach I want to paint. There are some good waves there.’ He pulled a sun-umbrella and a heavy wooden surfboard down from the rafters of the shed. ‘Let’s take this with us.’