Free La Vie en Bleu by Jody Klaire Page A

what—?”
    “This is why I don’t do housework.” I reached up to touch my nose
only for Rebecca to bat my hand away.
    “Ice compress,” she muttered.
    “I have it here.” Berne’s voice. Such a wonderful sound.
    The cooling vapours of freeze-dried peas made my throbbing nose
calm, if only a little. I looked up at her trying not to show I was in pain.
“Id it brogen?”
    “ Pardon? ”
    “She said is it broken,” Rebecca translated. “Should hear her when
she gets a cold.”
    I loved Berne’s gentle smile. She looked as though she wanted
nothing more than to ask Rebecca to fill her in on every gap she’d missed. I
wanted to tell her every detail but then I’d have to explain why . . . no, no,
bad idea.
    “ Imb fine,” I managed, reaching for the pantry door to pull
myself up but it was remarkably difficult bearing pea compress. “Jub neeb to
get up.”
    They hoisted me to my feet and carried me to a leather and
delightfully squishy sofa.
    “ Doub?”
    “Monsieur Chamonix has taken him to the local old pub, I think,
something about football?”
    Berne beamed. “Marseille play Lyon tonight. It will be fierce.”
    “Doub won hab a clue.”
    Berne raised her eyebrows and Rebecca stepped in. “Doug isn’t a
sport kind of guy unless you count golf, which I don’t.”
    “It is more a hobby than a professional sport you feel?”
    Rebecca nodded. “Sport should make you exert and sweat, and you
shouldn’t have people carrying your equipment for you.”
    I looked at Berne who perched on the edge of the kitchen table as
Rebecca sat next to me. “I prefer more active sports also.” Ever the diplomat,
the woman should have been running the country by now.
    “You want to stay, eat?” Rebecca asked, getting to her feet as
though she had mischief on her mind.
    “ Imb sure Berne wan to go homb .”
    Berne raised her eyebrows once more.
    “She said make yourself at home.”
    I scowled at Rebecca but she was too busy luring Berne into the
kitchen where the two of them cleaned up my mess. “So you’re a stonemason by
trade?”
    “ Oui . I was going to join the gendarmerie mais I
decided that I prefer it here.” Berne took the mop bucket that Rebecca had
refilled and started to sweep across the floor.
    “You live here permanently?” Rebecca moved around the incoming mop
and washed the ingredients in the sink.
    “Here and the city,” Berne said.
    Rebecca looked at me.
    “She meanb Marbsay .”
    “Ah, so you still live there too? Do you do the same thing there?”
    Berne picked up the used bucket and emptied it outside. Sounds of
sloshing water gushing into a drain mixed with Rebecca’s chop chopping on the
board.
    “No, I go there to see Vivienne.”
    My nose seemed to hurt more at the sound of her name. It
was a dumb name, like Virginia, I mean . . . come on, who called their kid
Virginia?
    “I take it she’s not just an old chum?” Rebecca flashed me a
wicked grin. I wanted to curl up into a ball and cry.
    “ Non ,” Berne whispered.
    “You been with her long?” Rebecca seemed to read the look on my
face and frowned. I got up and wandered towards the bedrooms.
    I didn’t want to know how long they had been together or how
wonderful life was for them. Just hearing her say that she had even looked at
someone else felt like my insides were being ripped out through my stomach. No,
better to pretend that she wasn’t invading my thoughts with her gorgeous smile
or her laugh, or . . .
    Oh, get a grip. Focus, decor, rooms. Inspect the rooms like
mother.
    The bedrooms were everything that could be expected from a holiday
rental, neat, airy, and without personality. My nose had calmed enough for me
to regain some sense of smell and I breathed in slowly, trying to clear the
foggy pain.
    I sneezed, nearly knocking myself backwards.
    Holiday places all had a summery, musty smell that seemed to
linger. I stood, wondering what it was. I discounted frozen pea. The linen was
fresh, the sheets no doubt were