Sacha stared at the little collection of shells on his plate and the array of forks of varying sizes. Nom de Dieu, he was living some kind of cliché. He’d only eaten escargot once in his life and that was at a professional development seminar in an outdated conference centre in the Dordogne. He hadn’t liked them. The snails were probably more tender at the Ritz, but just the thought made his stomach turn – especially as he was already on edge.
He had the feeling that something was going to happen to stuff Ren back into her box and he couldn’t stand the thought. So much for his resolve not to cause trouble. The powerless feeling reminded him of the time after his father had died, which was… concerning.
First, he had to take a chance on a fork. He recognised the little set of tongs to hold the shell, but there was such an astonishing array of silver implements to his left that he could only assume the next courses would involve duelling with an assortment of other strange animals. Or perhaps the elaborate cutlery was just designed to make outsiders feel ignorant. Ren nudged him and gestured with the two-pronged fork she’d selected from her arsenal.
‘You don’t like escargot, Mr Mourad?’ Ziggy asked. ‘I’m sure we could order you some fried chicken and fries – or would you prefer lamb kofta?’
‘Thank you for the offer, but I’m fine.’
‘We ate fresh lobster last night,’ Ren said. It wasn’t the first time she’d defended him in a roundabout way. It only reminded him of how much Ren disliked conflict. ‘It was still crawling when it was delivered!’
‘How disgusting!’ Charlotte piped up.
‘It wasn’t crawling when we ate it,’ Sacha muttered.
‘It was delicious, actually. We baked and played games and it was… a real Christmas,’ Ren continued.
‘You could order lobster, if that’s what you’d like to eat,’ Livia spoke up, her tone full of concern. He had the impression that something had aged the matriarch since the weekend. Perhaps the theft had affected the company more than she wanted to let on. He hoped not.
‘I had enough last night, thanks. Would Ziggy let me eat it, anyway?’ Ren asked, her voice light.
‘I’m sure when… when you’ve got this out of your system, we can work something out with your diet. I only want you to come home and be happy,’ Livia continued.
‘What’s this, all of a sudden?’ The table fell silent. Charlie’s parents’ gazes were carefully averted, but Charlie himself watched with interest. Ren drew herself up. ‘Why are you all tiptoeing around me?’
‘What’s strange about your grandmother being concerned for your wellbeing?’ Livia asked. ‘Especially when you’ve opened yourself up to all kinds of problems.’
‘“Problems”?’ Ren repeated. ‘Everyone knows you’re talking about Sacha, but you can leave him out of this. The only one who has a problem with Sacha is you, not me.’
‘Darling, you’re confused and you’re hurt.’
‘Yes, by you and by him respectively,’ she said, tossing her head in Charlie’s direction.
‘I knew I gave you too long to indulge yourself. He’s got to you, but you’ll see clearly in time. You’re vulnerable on your own.’
‘I’m seeing clearly right now and I’m always vulnerable. The more you try to keep me safe, the more vulnerable I feel!’
Sacha’s nails dug into his palms. He had flashbacks to that Sunday night, when he’d stared at her in the dim light of a lamp as she’d slept the hibernation of emotional exhaustion. He wanted to stand in front of her, Alexander with his sword, but he needed to let her wield her own sword.
‘You think you’re safe with him?’ Ziggy asked pointedly. ‘Haven’t you wondered what he wants from you?’
‘Not everyone is like you, Ziggy. Some people value each other for themselves, because we’re people who exist on the same earth. Not everyone is out to get me. I’ve learned that.’
‘But you’re not like other people,’ Livia interrupted before the stony-faced Ziggy could respond more harshly. ‘Your money makes you—’
‘I am just like other people. It’s a good thing. I didn’t know how to catch a train or peel a potato, but I’m not so different that I can’t have… friends. I’m not an asset to write on your balance sheet – and write off when I screw up your plans!’
‘You know that’s not what I meant.’
‘Not consciously, but it’s the message you’re sending. I’m a liability, a crack in your impregnable empire.’
‘Ren, stop this.’
‘No, Grandmama, listen to me. I am that crack and I’m okay with that, whether you are or not. I’m not going to shut out the world any more. I want to be strong enough to deal with it my way, instead. No matter what you’ve done to protect me, you couldn’t – not from the things I feared most.’ Livia’s face flushed red and her hands shook. Sacha wished he didn’t know what she was talking about. Six days… He clutched his hands into fists. ‘The darkness is there – everywhere. I still have to find a way to breathe.’
‘What nonsense is this? Has he been giving you hashish? I swear, I will have every policeman in Paris after you—’
‘It’s not marijuana. It’s poetry,’ Ren explained.
‘Poetry? Literature never fed anyone,’ Livia said dismissively.
‘As if we ever had to worry about being fed! This is exactly my point. I’m sick of being afraid because you are. I value our heritage, but not enough to give up everything just so I can be dressed in bloody haute couture!’
‘You may wish you’d never opened yourself up to this, to him,’ Livia continued, her tone oddly choked. ‘Whether you like it or not, money has always stood between the two of you.’
‘Isn’t that right, Sacha?’ Ziggy began, much more controlled than her employer. He unfortunately couldn’t argue with that.
‘You just bided your time, waiting for the opportunity and she handed it to you on a plate, gave you her misguided trust when she was most vulnerable.’ The open hostility in Livia’s voice made Sacha’s skin prickle with misgiving.
He’d made everything worse for Ren. She was finally speaking her mind, paving the way for a more honest relationship with her only living family member, and his presence only weakened her position. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about, but I’m happy to leave, if that’s what you would prefer.’
‘Stop it!’ Ren cried. ‘If he goes, I’m going, too.’ Sacha’s stomach dropped. He shouldn’t have come. And he definitely shouldn’t have been so close to losing control. The outcome of this many feelings could only be disaster.
Ziggy stood slowly, a sly smile on her face, and walked to the door of the room, gesturing to someone outside. ‘Where he’s going, you might not want to follow, Ren.’
Three police officers stalked into the room and Sacha fought the irrational urge to flee. His vision blurred and all he could think about was the firearms on their hips and the distant memory of cowering in his bedroom and watching a different group of officers drag his father from their apartment. He should be wondering what was going on, but a sense of fatalism filled him instead.
Why had he ever thought this would end differently?
Ren groped for his arm, but he disentangled her fingers and stood. ‘Qu’est-ce qui se passe?’ he asked the officers what was wrong.
‘Sacha Mourad?’ one officer asked. ‘Nous avons quelques questions à vous demander concernant le vol d’un panneau de vitrail de la galerie Asquith-Lewis.’
‘Quoi?’ he huffed in disbelief. They thought he’d stolen the stained glass?
‘What’s going on? He hasn’t done anything!’
Livia strode around the table to place a comforting hand on Ren’s shoulder. ‘It will be all right, darling. He stole the glass panel but please don’t blame yourself. It isn’t his first crime, and he must have targeted you and manipulated you to get into Asquith-Lewis. We all make mistakes. I’m sorry this is such a shock and I wish I didn’t have to deliver this news to you.’
Ren stood so quickly her elegant chair tipped over. ‘He didn’t steal anything!’ She turned to Ziggy. ‘Did you convince her of this nonsense?’
‘You brought him to the gallery, Ren. He is a known thief, with contacts in the antiques market,’ Ziggy said.
‘He was a kid who was grieving, who made a mistake, not a “known thief”. And he has friends at the antiques market, not contacts! Did you have him investigated?’ Sacha hated making Ren defend him, but if he defended himself, where would that leave her?
‘Of course we had him investigated,’ Livia said soothingly. ‘I only wished we’d discovered what he really wanted sooner.’
‘You have no idea what I really want,’ he said, his voice wavering alarmingly. ‘And I have taken nothing from you or from Ren.’
‘He couldn’t have stolen anything!’ Ren insisted.
‘I’m sorry I let him have such an influence on you—’
‘It’s not a matter of trust. It’s simple logic. The panel was stolen on Monday night. I was with him on Monday night – the whole night! He couldn’t possibly have stolen it.’
‘But Charlie said—’ Livia’s gaze darted between Ziggy and Charlie.
‘Just what did Charlie say?’ The steel in Ren’s tone made Sacha unbearably proud of her, but she was still one person and she couldn’t change the world.
‘Poor Ren,’ Charlie said, making Sacha’s stomach turn. ‘Did you pay him for the whole day, today? I’m sure he’ll issue a refund under the circumstances.’
‘I was saddened to hear you had to resort to such desperate measures as paying someone to pose as your boyfriend,’ Livia said. ‘I promise, I will look after you better. But, for now, you don’t need to pretend any more.’
Silence rang out in the room and Charlie’s parents, at least, had the good grace to look shocked and dismayed, even if no one else did. Sacha’s ears rang as he watched Ren’s face fall and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it. She might not have paid him, but their relationship wasn’t real – well, not the way they’d presented it to Ren’s family.
Ren looked at Sacha, biting her lip and he shook his head gently, willing her to understand that none of this was her fault. The officers wouldn’t take anything from him but a few hours of his time, because they both knew he was innocent. If she kept fighting, he would be tempted to do the same and the outcome of that wouldn’t be good for anyone.
But instead of keeping her mouth shut and untangling the mess later, she spoke. ‘I wasn’t pretending – not at the end,’ she insisted. ‘And I truly was with him all night on Monday night. He never accepted any money from me. This might have started as a ruse, but… it’s not, now.’
He stared at her, at the light in her eyes that made him want to whisper the words he’d almost said to her a dozen times, now.
‘But you – Ziggy said—’ Livia’s words petered out.
‘You know he reported the panel to the French Ministry of Culture?’ Ziggy said evenly.
Guilt pricked him, on top of everything else. ‘That’s the only thing I have done,’ he murmured. ‘I’m sorry. I should have told you. I tried, on Christmas Eve, but…’
‘You see, darling? You can’t go through life trusting people.’
‘Mais si, she fucking can!’ Oh, no. He’d started cracking. Every eye was on him, jaws hanging open. ‘She can trust who she wants, who she decides deserves her trust. Ren has a soft heart but she’s not stupid!’
‘And you deserve her trust?’ Livia choked. ‘After going behind her back to report us to the police? After stealing our property and undermining our business?’
The dismay on Ren’s face struck him, but he couldn’t stop now. ‘Do you think Ren should take your example and only trust in money? Or do you think she should trust Ziggy, the woman who destroys her confidence and wants to turn her into someone else?’
‘Ziggy saved this company!’ Livia said.
‘She saved the company and made Ren’s life miserable,’ Sacha huffed. ‘And you made her lonely. Do you think she should trust you?’ Tais-toi, tais-toi, tais-toi. He tried to stop himself, but his feelings would not be subdued. ‘Six days. Six. One was too many.’
Livia went suddenly white. Her horrified look confirmed his worst suspicions, but he’d never been so sorry to be right. He couldn’t fix this for Ren any more, not even by leaving.
He didn’t have any control over his feelings. If she hated him for interfering, then so be it, but he couldn’t roll over and die like a tragic romantic hero – not when she hadn’t said goodbye, yet.
