All That the Heart Desires by June Moonbridge Page B

children. But I didn’t have to face that problem. I had a completely different one. I still felt anger and desperation. The father of my son had vanished with him more than five years ago and all traces of them were lost.
    Finally, we came to Cannes and Anne-Marie gave me directions for the best parking lot. We left the car there and she took my arm and led me down the boulevard where the best boutiques where situated.
    Seeing the place she brought me to, I started to laugh and she stopped a few steps ahead and looked back at me.
    “What?” she asked.
    I finally managed to stop laughing.
    “Do you want to make a ‘Pretty Woman’ out of me? Wrong town, country, not to mention my profession and…” I looked at her with suspicion in my eyes.
    What?” she said.
    “I’m sorry but you don’t look anything remotely like Richard Gere.”
    From the expression on her face I knew she couldn’t decide whether to laugh or to be angry with me.
    “Whose idea was this Anne-Marie? Yours or Harry’s?”
    She suddenly became serious.
    “Mine. Dame doesn’t know anything about this. You know I don’t tell him anything. I needed to get out of the house. Philippe took the children to his parents. I couldn’t do anything.” She looked honest.
    “Right. Then find me a glamorous dress.”
    “You’re serious? I was convinced you’d fight about this!”
    “It’ll be fun and I need a little bit of fun.”
    “And we will have fun, but coffee first. We’ll eat later.”
    “So I’ll fit into a dress?” I teased her again.
    “You are naughty today. I’m not used to that side of you.”

    It was already evening when we got home. The sky was sparkling with stars; they were more visible in the suburbs of Nice than in the city. I liked it that way. I parked the car on the driveway and Anne-Marie was strangely silent. She looked at her house, which was still in darkness.
    “The boys aren’t home yet. It’s strange,” she said so quietly I was not sure that she had actually spoken.
    “Will you join me on the porch for a glass of wine?” I asked her, trying to improve her mood. Only then did I start to think that she’d become silent only when we’d left Cannes. The whole afternoon she had been as effervescent as a sparkling wine. I had hardly managed to say a word, she had been extremely chatty.
    “No, thank you,” she answered. “I’m sure they’ll be home soon. Otherwise Philippe would have called me.” Her last words were almost a whisper. I had a strange feeling something was not right, but I didn’t want to push her to tell me what was wrong.
    “And the dogs are probably hungry, too.” She turned back to me and smiled. From the back seat of my car she took the dress that was carefully packaged in a protective cover. At the end of the day, just a few minutes before closing, she had finally managed to choose something that fitted me perfectly. It was a beautiful black dress with an emerald green inset of silk fabric falling from the right arm to the floor. I was just not sure I would be ever be able to wear it.
    “Here it is,” she handed it to me. “Thank you for a beautiful afternoon.” She leaned forward and hugged me. I was so surprised I was unable to answer her. Before I could say anything, she was already across the street and in her driveway.
    “Thank you, Anne-Marie.”
    She waved back.
    “Good night!”
    But she was already gone.
    Locking the car, I went into the house and hung the dress on the door of the closet. It had been a long day and I was tired.
    Although alone, I took a bottle of red wine out of the fridge, found a glass from the cabinet and went straight to the terrace. It was a wonderfully warm night and the full moon was rising. My mind was occupied with the last few days’ events. Everything was incredible and crazy; a near-death accident; meeting the World number one Formula 1 driver, his kiss and, better than anything – Blackbird’s information that my lost son was so close to