Ava smiled. “You can,” she said firmly. “I understand. Love is never simple. It can turn the sanest mind mad with longing. It distorts everything. Once the dust settles, you’ll be happy out there with your Rupert. You’ve got courage. I don’t think I’d ever be as brave as you. I suppose one has to weigh it all up—do I live for me, or for others?”
“And you never know how you’re going to act until it happens to you.”
Ava drove away envying Daisy. She had got what she wanted, but at what cost to Michael? Ava loved Phillip too much ever to hurt him like that.
Just when Ava was beginning to tolerate life without Jean-Paul, Phillip announced he’d had a telephone call from Jean-Paul’s father, Henri. Ava was in the vegetable garden planting seeds with Hector. When she heard the news she stood up, trowel in hand, her face and hands grubby with mud. “You’ve heard from Henri?” she repeated, anxious to hear more. “What did he say?” Is Jean-Paul coming back?
A smile played around Phillip’s mouth, for he knew the news would please his wife. “He’s asked us to stay at the beginning of May.”
“To stay?” she repeated, incredulous.
“Yes. I thought you’d be pleased. We could take our holiday there. You’ll love Henri, he’s a real character and Antoinette, his wife, is a keen gardener like you.”
“What about Jean-Paul?”
“What about him?”
“When is he coming back?”
“I don’t know. Didn’t he tell you how long he was going to be away?”
“No,” she replied quickly, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. “So he’ll be there?”
“I’m sure he will. I told him we’re very pleased with Jean-Paul’s work. That he’s learning a great deal. I told him he’s indispensable to us now—thought a little exaggeration wouldn’t hurt.”
“Didn’t he think it odd that he had gone home?”
“Clearly not. Why is it odd?”
“He’s been away three weeks.”
“You’re not missing him, are you, Shrub—the woman who said she wouldn’t last more than a week with him?”
She turned away, pretending to be keeping an eye on Hector. “Well, we could do with his help. There’s an awful lot to do around here.”
“So, what should I tell Henri?”
Ava lost her focus among the greenhouses, aware that she was standing at a crossroads and that her fate and perhaps the fate of her whole family depended on the choice she made now. She thought of Daisy Hopeton. How she had disapproved. But was she any better? Then something pulled at her. An invisible cord attached to her heart, pulling her across an unseen threshold. “Tell him yes,” she said slowly, knowing that she should have taken the other path. “Tell him we’d love to.”
“Good. I knew you’d be pleased. Don’t I always come up with the goods?” He chuckled and wandered through the gate in the wall back to the house. Ava felt the familiar tingle of excitement and the rising of her spirits out of the smog that had been her unhappiness. Suddenly she was able to see the sunshine and feel its warm rays on her face. She looked around at the budding trees and bushes and breathed in the fertile scents of flowering shrubs and new grass, allowing spring to uplift her as it always did.
She knelt down and continued to plant the marrow seeds for Poppy. Inside, her stomach was filled with bubbles. Then she felt the guilt, pricking each bubble one by one, spoiling her joy. She told herself that her desire to see Jean-Paul again was innocent. That all she wanted to do was to be in his company and convince him to return with them to Hartington. They would be dear friends. That was all.
That night Phillip made love to her. She was so overwhelmed with happiness that she received him enthusiastically, pulling him into her arms, kissing him passionately, savoring his attention, telling him how much she loved him. Masking the secret feelings she had for Jean-Paul.
“You’re back, Shrub,” he said afterward, scrunching her tousled hair in his hand. “You haven’t been yourself.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize, darling. I don’t like to see you unhappy, that’s all.”
“You’re very sweet to put up with the potato face.”
“It wasn’t a potato face, Shrub. More like a weeping willow. I want you to be a sunflower all year round.”
“So do I.”
He paused a moment. She began to plan what she would pack. “You’re not unhappy with Jean-Paul, are you?”
“What do you mean?”