By Request Collection April-June 2016. Оливия Гейтс

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СКАЧАТЬ in which citizens are considered guilty before being proven innocent. I’m so sorry, my darling, but our hands are tied. This is why I’m leaving it to you to decide who we should honour with the role.’

      Shari frowned. ‘Two?’

      ‘Bien sûr, the law requires two.’

      Two of his family. It wasn’t that she disliked his family. They’d been very kind on every occasion. Since their announcement of the baby, both the Sophies had invited her to go shopping with them, Raoul and Lucette had invited her and Luc to dinner, and Laraine had called by to drink tea. During the visit the gracious woman had expressed her sincere condolences about all the yellow silk.

      ‘It doesn’t suit every complexion,’ she’d said sympathetically. ‘I’m not sure it even suited Manon. And it can be very wearing on the nerves. Probably on relationships, I wouldn’t be surprised. Make a couple a little irritable, hein? I know my son has always detested yellow. In your case, ma chérie, a warm white, pale cream, perhaps even a très, très watery shade of blue could be to your advantage.’

      Laraine was right about one thing. Yellow was irritating.

      In fact, ever since Luc had made the proposal, if anyone could call it that, things that hadn’t bothered Shari before bothered her now. That was one good reason why this so-called wedding didn’t deserve to be classed as a celebration.

      She tried not to look at him, all crisp and fresh in his city suit, his handsome jaw cleanly shaven while she was still a classic frump in one of his old tee shirts and straggly hair. It wasn’t fair that a man should always be beautiful.

      He was absorbed in reading his tablet, but every so often he remembered she was alive. ‘Have you thought any more about the witnesses, chérie?’ he said absently. ‘We will have to give them some warning.’

      ‘I’m not sure who in your family would have the time for such a banal formality. It’s hardly a social event. Merely the signing of a contract.

      Behind their dark lashes his eyes glinted. ‘It shouldn’t be impossible to find two who are willing. I dare say everyone in my family would like to witness my wedding.’

      She glanced at him, but his face was entirely innocent as he perused Le Figaro, making occasional stabbing gestures with his forefinger at articles that infuriated him.

      ‘Well …’ She studied her toast, which could have been improved by a very thin smear of Vegemite, if only the French knew it. ‘I suppose it would be nice to ask your mother.’

      There was a moment of silence. Then, ‘You think?’

      She said gloomily, ‘Though if we ask her, we can’t possibly not ask Tante Marise.’

      He nodded. ‘Although Oncle Georges would be overjoyed to be included. Still, it’s difficult with only the two. But what can one do? Papa is in Venice, but even he might feel he has a claim …’

      She could see the crack widening in the dam wall. ‘I suppose … one could invite some of them as guests.’

      He glanced up, his face illuminated with a sudden devastating smile that wrung her heart. ‘Only if you would feel comfortable with that, of course.’

      She shrugged, gracious in defeat. At least he could be happy. ‘Oh, sure, sure. Invite them all. And the children. And their dogs. But you know what that means, don’t you?’

      He was smiling at his iPad. ‘What?’

      ‘Printed invitations. Flowers. Photos. Receptions. All that stuff. Stuff I know nothing about arranging.’

      ‘You can leave all that to me. What about Neil and Emilie?’

      ‘Are you kidding? The twins are barely three months old. Em won’t want to travel with them. And she’s breastfeeding so she can’t leave them behind, even if she wanted to. No, I’m doomed to go it alone.’

      ‘Tsk, tsk. So depressing. At least on Saturday we can see about your dress. That will be something beautiful to think of, n’est-ce pas?’

      She heaved a bored sigh. ‘Whatever. Choose what you like. Just so long as it’s yellow.’

      She could tell she’d made some impact with that. He looked at her long and hard.

      But it gave her no real satisfaction. Did she want to disgruntle him and send him off to the office looking stern for another day of terrifying his employees? No, she wanted him to be happy. She wanted him to have everything in the world he wanted. Even if it wasn’t her, all that much.

      Of course, once she had proved her case about his paternity, he might see her in a different light. If she didn’t throw herself off the Pont Neuf first.

      After he’d kissed her goodbye, then strode off to catch his train, she drifted around for a while, half-heartedly tidying things like a nineteen fifties housewife and feeling miserable about the whole damned thing.

      It was lowering to know that a man would never have dreamed of marrying you if you hadn’t been pregnant. And just to underline that fact couldn’t even be bothered to dress up his proposal with a few flowery words.

      Lately, she’d even given up the effort to dress herself up. Most days she mooched around in shorts, shirts and sandals, her hair in a daggy ponytail. Occasionally she’d drag on a skirt for the shops, but that was her biggest concession.

      She felt Luc’s gaze on her often, anxious, troubled, but she didn’t feel like explaining. If he couldn’t work out that a woman liked to feel at least equal to his ex in his regard, what was the point?

      There was an evening when Luc was taking her to a reception at the Turkish embassy. When she emerged from her boudoir in a shortish skirt and a vest top, Luc stood stock still, gorgeous in his evening suit, surveying her quite sternly. Then he steered her back into her dressing room, stripped off those clothes and pulled out her good black dress.

      ‘Put this on,’ he commanded, then added smoothly, ‘They will be going to some trouble for us. We have to consider their feelings too, mon amour.’ Though gentle, there was unmistakable steel in his demeanour.

      She knew she was sulking like an angry, disappointed child, but that was because she was an angry, disappointed woman, with a child inside. While she capitulated in the matter of the dress, in a bold act of defiance she painted a fly on her cheek.

      Luc simply smiled and said, ‘Enchanting.’ And to further destabilise her, he introduced her to all the dignitaries at the reception as his future bride with apparent glowing pride.

      The rift stretched between them as wide and cold as a frozen sea.

      Her blue mood persisted until the day of the amnio test. On the morning of the test she was jumpier than a cricket. Since her appointment at the clinic wasn’t until early afternoon, she killed time by going to the market.

      In an effort to crush down the jagged rocks in her chest, she visited her favourite art-supply shop first, and purchased some gentian blue and vermilion. Then she wended her way through the market, collecting sundry fruits and vegetables for the household supply. Shopping was easier now she could ask for things in French.

      She СКАЧАТЬ