Love, Again

as usual. The gods of tourism were to blame.

Jean-Pierre turned around and said, 'We know it is a shock. It is not the most attractive thing that could happen — I am speaking for myself now. But put yourselves in our place. Julie will bring prosperity to the whole region.'

'It is surely not a region of France that lacks visitors,' said Sarah.

'No, that is true. But Belles Rivieres is just a little town. It has nothing else, only Julie. There will be new hotels and restaurants — they are being planned already. And this will affect all the towns of the area.'

'You haven't said anything about the language,' said Stephen. Of all of them, he must be the most affected by the news of the destruction of the original Julie Vairon — but only Sarah could know that.

'Of course that was discussed. For a while we decided to go back to the French, but we changed our minds. This will sound absurd, but we thought it might even bring bad luck. Julie has been so lucky. To change her completely… but there was the other reason, and that is more important. Most of the tourists in our part of France in summer are English- speaking. And that decided it.'

He waited, but no one said anything.

'And now I must leave you all. I must catch my plane.'

'Next year in Belles Rivieres,' said Roy, for this joke seemed likely to stay, and Mary and Jean-Pierre looked at each other, and Sarah was reminded of Henry's wretched face that morning as she left.

'Oh no, we must discuss it all before that. I hope to see you all… Sarah… Stephen… and you, Mary… ' He nodded at Patrick, and it occurred to them that since Patrick had scarcely been in Belles Rivieres, that nod, with a special smile, was carrying more meaning than they knew the reason for. And Patrick was in fact looking guilty. 'All of you, we will fix a meeting and we will go through everything. I shall telephone Benjamin when I get to my office. Stephen — it would be a sadness for us if you decided to withdraw.' That meant that if Stephen did, there would be other willing angels.

Jean-Pierre left an atmosphere of mourning. The audiences filling the new stadium next year and — presumably — succeeding years would be enjoying successful, fashionable theatre, but only those people who had been there the first year — still this year — would know how rare a bird Julie had been, a magically perfect event that had seemed at its beginnings no more promising than a hundred others, had gathered substance and shape in what it was easy to believe was a series of mere lucky chances, one after the other, blown together by the winds of heaven, and then… but there is only one thing to do at the vanishing away of a wonder: put a clamp on your heart.

And it was only the theatre, after all.

'It's only the theatre,' said Mary, ending their silence and sounding miserable.

Now, finally, they had to decide whether to put Julie Vairon on in London. But it seemed this decision had already been made, for they hardly discussed it.

'Now,' said Sarah to Patrick, 'let's have it.'

Patrick stood before them, grinning. Full of affection, yes, but fuller of a cheeky guiltiness.

'Sarah… guess what… you'll never guess… you'll have to shoot yourself… well, shoot me, then… We can't have victim heroines any more — remember? Do you remember? Well… ' And here he hesitated on the brink, gave Sonia a look of comic despair, plunged on, 'How do you like the idea of a musical?'

'A musical!' protested Stephen.

'Oh, don't tell me,' said Roy, in a fury. 'There's this pathetic little half-caste from Martinique who falls in love with the handsome lieutenant. He ditches her. She earns her living doing the can-can in Cannes. There she is seen by the patrician Remy — '

'Too complicated,' said Patrick airily.

'No Remy?' said Stephen.

'No Remy. She has a child by Paul. She puts her in a convent with the nuns. Julie earns her living as a singer. The master printer wants to make an honest woman of her — '

'But she commits suicide because of…?' enquired Sarah.

'Because she knows the townspeople will never forgive her, or forgive him for marrying her. If he marries her she will ruin his life. There's a great scene where the citizens sing they will boycott his business and bring him to bankruptcy. They won't have that whore Julie. She leaves a suicide note: Remember my Minou! She flings herself under a train. Just like you know who. Last scene: the master printer and Minou, already a nubile nymph sought in marriage by a handsome young lieutenant.'

'You're joking,' said Stephen.

'He's not joking,' said Sonia, sounding huffy. From this it could be seen she was involved with this musical.

'I'm not joking,' said Patrick. 'The libretto is written.'

'You've written it?'

'I've written it.'

'Is she allowed any intelligence?' asked Roy.

'Of course not,' said Sarah.

'I expected you and Stephen to be much more cross than you are,' said Patrick, obviously disappointed.

'Well,' said Stephen, 'I'm off.'

'Well,' said Sarah, also getting up, 'when is this masterpiece going to be put on?'

'We have to get the music written,' said Sonia.

'Not Julie's?' asked Mary.

'We are thinking of using one of the troubadour songs as a theme song. Not the words, of course. You know. 'If this song of mine is a sad one…' It's a torch song, really.'

'So what words?' enquired Sarah.

Mary said, 'I love you, I love you.'

'Very good,' said Patrick. 'Brilliant. All right. Sneer if you like. It's possible they'll premiere it in Belles Rivieres the year after next.'

'The bad will drive out the good,' remarked Stephen. 'It always does.'

'Oh thanks, thanks a lot,' said Patrick.

'Let's wait and see,' said Mary. 'They aren't going to let our Julie go if it's successful next year.'

'Honestly,' said Sonia, 'I don't think you people should start panicking. It hasn't happened yet.'

'No, but it's going to,' said Patrick. 'And there's something else. My Julie's going to be called The Lucky Piece… no, wait — I found it by chance. The lucky piece is early- nineteenth-century slang. It means the child of a mistress who has been left well set up by her boyfriends. Well, no one could say that Julie's mother wasn't living in clover.'

The meeting ended early, and a long sunlit evening lay ahead. Stephen and Sarah walked for a while in Regent's Park. Stephen said he was going to visit his brother in Shropshire. After that he might visit friends in Wales. She recognized his need to move. If it were not that she had so much to do in the theatre, she would be buying an aeroplane ticket to almost anywhere.

There was no way of putting off what faced her. She sat and thought how already the family would be speeding along French roads that were dusty and burned by this summer's sun. As soon as the car stopped, the little boy would be in his father's arms. In fact one could be sure that during the three weeks they were in France, whenever the car was not actually in motion, Joseph would be held by Henry. Meanwhile her body sent inconsistent messages. For instance, that sensation of need in the hollow of her left shoulder demanded that a head should lie there… was it Henry's head? Often it seemed to her it was an infant newly born, and naked, a soft hot nakedness, and her hand pressing it close protected a helplessness much greater than could be encompassed by this one small creature. An infinite vulnerability lay there: Sarah herself, who was both infant and what sheltered the infant. When a hot wanting woke Sarah from a dream she knew had been about Henry, the face that dazzled behind her lids was Joseph's, a bright cheeky greedy smile announc- ing that it would grab everything it could. And then, an intimate