“Pretty and dangerous,” interjected Joel.
“Oh, I’ll be perfectly safe.”
“I had a friend who was nearly murdered in Johannesburg.”
Chantal rolled her eyes. “Mon cher, everyone has a friend who was nearly murdered in Johannesburg. Being held up with a gun is as common as being accosted by those Big Issue people over here. They are on every street corner. But don’t worry, Angelica, I’m sure you will be well looked after.”
“I don’t like the sound of it,” said Olivier, having considered it. “Who’s going to look after the children?”
“I’ll get someone. Chrissie, for example, or Denise—the children trust them.” She hoped those nannies who had worked for her in the past would be available.
“Do you want to go?” Olivier asked.
“I’d like to. It’ll be good for my career, although I’ll miss the children dreadfully.”
“And your husband,” Chantal reminded her. “Husbands need their wives more than children. Especially French husbands.” She gave Joel a playful nudge.
Joel laughed. “I don’t like to let Chantal out of my sight. But what can I do?” He shrugged. “I’d do anything to avoid her sulking.”
“I don’t sulk!”
He let his jaw drop. “Chantal, you were born sulking! If you didn’t get your seasonal shopping trip to New York, your face would be in a permanent scowl that no Botox or collagen could cure.”
“You’re so silly!” She laughed. “Well, Olivier. This is a dilemma. What are you going to do? A girl needs a bit of freedom from time to time. It’s good for the marriage.”
He thought about it a moment. “I agree. It is good to be apart every now and then. How long will you be gone?”
“I don’t know. Just over a week.”
He pulled a face. “More than a week?”
“It’s a one-off,” said Angelica hopefully. Joel refilled Olivier’s glass.
“I don’t think you’ve ever been away for so long.”
“Which is why she deserves to go. You men are always traveling,” said Chantal. “We, on the other hand, stay at home, look after the children—”
“And spend our money,” interrupted Joel.
“There has to be some compensation, surely!” Chantal protested. “I gave up a good job to be a mother. Angelica has a good job as well as being a good wife and mother. For that she deserves a break.”
“It’s not fun, I promise you. But apparently these tours really boost sales, and my next book is out in February.”
“It’s not the money I care about,” said Olivier, whose pride prohibited him from admitting that he might be struggling financially. “As long as the children are taken care of. You can’t expect me to come home early to help with their homework. And as long as you are safe. I want you back in one piece, Angelica.” He took her hand. She noticed how tired he looked around the eyes.
“It’ll be fine. I’m hardly going to be roaming the streets at night, or lurking in dangerous places.”
“Perhaps you should go with her!” said Joel.
Angelica was horrified. “And leave the children without either parent?” she exclaimed. “In which case I’d rather not go. Forget it, Olivier. It doesn’t matter. Besides, I haven’t said I’ll go.”
It was a gamble, and she held her breath. He took a gulp of wine. The waiter came with their main courses and placed them on the table. Olivier’s mood lifted at the sight of his steak.
“Go,” he said, picking up his knife and fork. “I’ll survive without you for a week or so. At least I won’t have to contend with all your makeup littered around the bathroom.”
“No dimmed lights and scented candles, Leona Lewis and Neil Diamond.”
He raised his eyebrows. “I might even surprise myself and miss them.”
Angelica knew she would have to tell Candace that she was going to South Africa. There was no point lying about it. Candace would find out one way or another. But instead of telling her immediately, as she normally would, she decided to wait until nearer the time. She confirmed the dates with her agent: February 7–15, just before half term, and agreed to stay at Jack’s vineyard for the last three days.
At the beginning of December, the girls gathered at Scarlet’s house for a Christmas lunch. Scarlet had decorated her home with a large fir tree in the hall, its branches heavy with gold tinsel and big glass balls that shone like glittering bubbles amid the fairy lights. On the top sat the silver star Charlie had made at school out of tin foil. The bannisters were interwoven with garlands of holly and berries, and mistletoe laced the door frames. Choirs singing carols resounded from invisible speakers, and a fire raged in the grate beneath a row of cards draped decoratively on ribbon. On the hall table a tray of tall purple flutes fizzed with the finest champagne.