As I wave farewell to my Mother-In-law, Francesca, as she boards her flight to return to France, I struggle to suppress my regret, both emotionally and sexually. I deeply hope she will be true to her word and returns to live with us in New Zealand once she has sorted her financial affairs back in her native France.
I cannot help but contrast my current feelings to how I felt when she arrived six months ago to live with Olivier and myself. I was dreading her arrival and resented the fact that the problems of this wreck of a woman had been thrust upon Olivier and I to try and sort out. Oh, how my feelings have changed over that six month period. It has been an amazing journey that has totally changed me as a woman.
But I am racing ahead of myself and letting my excitement get the better of me. Let me start at the beginning by introducing myself. My name is Jane Donald, and I am a 32 year old blonde. I would love to tell you that I have the beauty of a film actress but alas that is not so. I consider myself a bit of a 'plain Jane' but my husband insists I am far too harsh on myself. I am very tall for a female, being almost 5' 10", which has always made me self conscious and I have to stop myself from slouching in an attempt to hide my height. Although tall and thin with smallish boobs, I do at least have a nice firm butt, which I consider my best asset.
I am married to Olivier Le Roy, a specialist medical surgeon who works at the main hospital in our home city of Auckland, New Zealand. But what makes Olivier somewhat special is that he is French, and finding a Frenchman living and working in New Zealand is very rare. We met when I was working overseas in my early 20's, and I went to a fancy dress party dressed as an Egyptian mummy. Olivier and a group of his medical student mates were at the party and he began chatting me up. We had both had too much alcohol, and when he asked me my name I jokingly told him I could not remember. He nicknamed me "Jane Doe". We met casually a few times over the next couple of months and he always called me "Jane Doe", not knowing my real name. When he finally asked me my name and I laughingly told him it really was Jane, in fact Jane Donald, he would not be convinced until I showed him my ID. Not long after Olivier and I became romantically linked and lived together in the UK for two years until he completed his medical internship at the local hospital.
When we became engaged we decided to have the wedding in New Zealand. Olivier fell in love with this country and we have been here since. Olivier is employed at the hospital and I run a small organic orchard in South Auckland. Seven years ago we had a delightful daughter, Abigail.
All in all, life was pretty good for us. I enjoyed working part-time on our organic orchard, which still gave me plenty of free time to spend with Abigail when she was not at school. It was therefore not surprising that I was a little reticent when Olivier's sister, Gabriel, phoned from France to say that their Mother, or more accurately, Step-mother, Francesca, had been arrested for the second time for driving while drunk, and only weeks after she had discharged herself from a drug and alcohol rehab clinic. Gabriel was at her wits end as to what to do with her mother, and was suggesting that a total change of environment, such as coming to live with us in New Zealand, might be what she needs.
Now, I have met Francesca on four or five previous occasions, although she was not present at our wedding as she and Olivier's father, Jean-Paul, had separated a few years earlier. The most startling thing about Francesca is her amazing likeness to the Spanish actress, Penelope Cruz. If you can imagine Penelope Cruz with short spiky black hair and five years older, then you have Francesca. Frankly it irritates me that she is so damn attractive despite the fact she is in her mid-forties. She has the same sultry full lips, baby soft skin and perfect body as Penelope Cruz. Yes, alright, I admit it, I am jealous.
Olivier's wealthy father, Jean-Paul, began having an illicit affair with the much younger Francesca when Olivier and his sister Gabriel were only six and eight years old respectively. When their mother found out about the affair she packed her bags and left, never to be seen again. Francesca married Olivier's father a couple of years later, and although she was basically a good mother to the children, Olivier has admitted to me that he has always blamed her for causing his mother to abandon them.
This is probably an unfair sentiment given that his father continued to have extramarital affairs and finally he and Francesca had a messy divorce about eight years ago. The divorce left Francesca a wealthy woman but emotionally devastated, and she turned to alcohol for solace. A couple of disastrous love affairs with younger men only helped to increase her depression, and her alcohol addiction increased.
Despite the efforts of Gabriel and Olivier to get their Step-mother to face up to her alcoholism, Francesca has refused to face reality. Three times Olivier has flown back to France and arranged for his Step-mother to go into a rehab clinic but she always discharges herself early insisting she has beaten her addiction, only to lapse several weeks later.
Following Gabriel's tearful phone call, Olivier and I debated whether bringing Francesca to New Zealand for six months to live with us on the orchard was a wise move, and although we had major reservations we agreed it was at least worth a chance because if we did nothing their was a good chance she would end up killing herself.
Following numerous long phone calls Olivier finally persuaded his Step-mother to come and stay with us in New Zealand and two weeks later we collected her from Auckland International Airport. Her alcohol addiction had taken a toll on her in that her facial features were sunken and she had clearly lost weight. But for all that she was still a glamorous and attractive woman. A young man who had been on the flight with her had kindly helped her carry her bags. When they got to the exit lounge where we were standing Francesca took off her sun glasses and flashed him one of her full-lipped smiles, kissed him on both cheeks in the typical French style, then sexily whispered 'merci, monsieur' in his ear. I thought the poor young man was going to cream his pants right there and then.
It was immediately clear to Olivier that his mother had been drinking alcohol on the flight and once we were in the car he began giving Francesca a stern lecture, but she waved him off dismissively, blaming her fear of flying for the need to consume a few glasses of wine.
From the outset it was clear that Francesca had no real resolve to overcome her alcohol addiction, and to make matters worse she had also become a chain smoker. From the first day she arrived Olivier sat her down and set some clear guidelines which included no alcohol and a plan to reduce smoking. Appointments were made for her to regularly visit a rehab therapist at a local clinic dealing with addictions. Olivier and I also gave up drinking alcohol in the house as we felt it would be unfair on Francesca
For the first few days it looked promising, but then Olivier found his mother had somehow sneaked alcohol into her room. The rules were again reinforced by Olivier, and Francesca promised to stick to them, but her resolve would always weaken after a few days. I stood by, frustrated, but trying to be as supportive as I could to both Olivier and his mother. As much as possible I would encourage her to walk with me in the orchard as I was going about my daily tasks. Francesca enjoyed spending time with our eight year old daughter, Abigail, and I encouraged the bond as I felt it was a positive distraction for Francesca. She would always ask to put Abigail to bed and read her bedtime stories.
