‘Sure. Tommy thinks so too. Apparently, Jacques had this girlfriend called Katie and she just didn’t get him at all. And I know he can be a bit gruff, but Tommy says, if Jacques lets you get to know even a small part of the real him then that’s a big deal.’
She did feel she was getting to know him, that he didn’t open the door to everyone and that what was inside his mind was locked away as securely as this smart home.
‘By the way,’ Erin began, stroking Hunter behind the ears. ‘I think Delphine has cancer. She has a horrible cough when she thinks no one is listening, she’s definitely sick when she visitsthe bathroom and she has tablets in her handbag. I googled what they were.’
‘What?’ Orla exclaimed.
‘I didn’t know whether to say anything but, well, if Saint-Chambéry is as close-knit as it claims to be then everyone should already know, right? And she must be OK otherwise she wouldn’t be running around organising events and bossing everyone around and telling me I have to be the Queen of theBrouettethis year. I mean, I don’t even know if we will still be here for the festival, but wearing a crown sounded kind of cool.’
Surely Erin had got it wrong. But, if she hadn’t, suddenly now Orla’s issues with romance didn’t seem so high up on the agenda.
47
‘Is Delphine sick?’
Jacques jumped at Orla’s question. She and Hunter were in the hallway as he came in. He’d lingered a bit outside, made sure his motorbike was put away properly, the chickens and the reindeer were OK. Tommy had left him to it, interested only in riding the motorbike, not the aftercare. And now his heart was thumping from the immediate confrontation he hadn’t been ready for.
‘What?’ he asked, petting his dog.
‘Oh, Jacques,’ Orla said, shaking her head. ‘Don’t lie to me. I’ve had absolutely enough of men lying to me. Particularly when someone with your history should be much better at it.’
He swallowed. Perhaps the fact she could read him was a good thing. Maybe it meant he could finally be normal, not a tightened up, buttoned down clone of him who didn’t show an ounce of emotion. But then he wondered why she was asking? Had something happened? Was Delphine OK? They had only just come from the village.
‘Is she OK?’ he asked Orla as Hunter retreated into the kitchen.
‘That’s what I’m asking you.’
‘Yes, I know,’ he said.
‘And? Or are we back to me having to ask permission to ask questions?’
‘OK, OK,’ he said. ‘Just tell me she hasn’t called here. That she doesn’t need help right now.’
‘No, she hasn’t called here.’
‘OK,’ he said, shrugging off his coat and stamping his boots on the mat.
‘So?’ Orla carried on.
‘She has asked me not to say anything to anybody,’ Jacques said, hanging up his coat.
‘So it’s true!’ Orla gasped. ‘She has cancer?’
‘Wait, what?’ How did Orla know that?
‘Erin saw some pills in her bag and looked them up online. She also said Delphine has an awful cough.’
She had a cough now? When had that started? Did it mean she was getting worse? He was already walking toward the kitchen before he even realised it. And when he started pouring the whisky that was on autopilot too. He passed her a glass then took a slug of his.
‘She says she will not have an operation that could save her life.’
‘What?!’
He nodded. ‘She says that she would rather have this one last Christmas with everything perfect, with the people she cares about, than go through any pain and time at the hospital when the operation may not be a success.’
‘But that’s crazy!’ Orla exclaimed. ‘And operations on these types of things are so much more successful these days!’
‘You have met Delphine. You know how she can be.’ He leaned against the kitchen counter. ‘She knows her own mind.’
