Belinda opened the door of the cottage as she heard Fern drive up and went out with BB to greet her and to let the two dogs have a play before they went indoors.
‘This place is starting to look smart again. Love the coloured lights at the foot of the trees,’ Fern said as she looked at the cut-back shrubs and the newly planted flower beds by the office and the cottage. ‘Can I smell a barbecue? I can definitely hear someone strumming a guitar.’ She handed Belinda a plastic box.
‘What’s this?’
‘Cantucci biscuits I made this afternoon. Delicious dunked in wine. Should be white wine, but I personally prefer red – which you have?’
‘I do,’ Belinda said, leading Fern inside and tipping the biscuits onto a plate. ‘It’s in the sitting room. I opened it earlier to let it breathe.’
‘Is Alain here tonight?’
‘He left a message with Marie for me. He’s gone over to check up on his parents. Said he’d be back about ten, so we’ve got the place to ourselves until then. Come on, let’s make ourselves comfortable,’ and she ushered Fern into the sitting room.
‘So how come you’re back so quickly?’ Fern asked as Belinda poured wine into two glasses.
‘Nigel has sold one of the hotels, he’s managing another, and the third isn’t really busy at this time of year, so it made sense for me to come back and help Alain with the final things to get this place up to scratch for the summer. And…’ Belinda paused. ‘There is something I’ve decided I need to do, so I’m quite pleased it worked out like this.’ She handed a glass to Fern. ‘Cheers.’
‘Cheers.’
‘But first, tell me all about your Scott.’
‘I told you he’s not my Scott.’ Fern swirled her wine around in the glass reflectively. ‘Anouk adores him. He’s really nice. But…’
‘But?’
‘He’s American and that’s where his life is, so there is little point in being anything other than friends.’
‘He might be happy to relocate to Europe,’ Belinda said. ‘Didn’t you say his family are originally from here? Maybe he feels at home here, a pull of the old country.’
Fern shrugged. ‘I don’t think so. Anyway, we’ve not known each other long and I’m not sure whether I’m completely over Laurent, so…’ She took a swig of her drink. ‘What was it you wanted to talk about?’
‘Two things. Let’s get the first one out of the way.’ Belinda took a deep breath and looked at her friend. ‘I finally went through some papers of my mum’s. Some of them are in that envelope on the coffee table.’ She pointed out the envelope to Fern. ‘Have a look through them, will you, and tell me what’s in there.’
Puzzled, Fern looked at her before she reached out for the envelope and emptied its contents onto the table. ‘Birth certificates. Marriage certificates. Death certificates. A decrees nisi. Two old Passports. Normal family official papers.’
‘Agreed,’ Belinda said. ‘You remember my mum left my dad because he had an affair?’ As she spoke, she sorted the marriage certificates into one pile, the birth certificates into a second and the decree nisi into another.
Fern nodded. ‘Yes.’
Belinda handed her a pile of papers. ‘These are marriage certificates for my great-grandparents through to me. Birth certificates, again from my great-grandparents through to me. Look there’s my father’s name – Enzo Belrose. And this single decree nisi is mine.’
‘Where are you going with this?’ Fern asked.
‘I didn’t realise a couple of papers were missing at first. There’s no marriage certificate or decree nisi for my parents,’ Belinda said quietly. ‘I don’t think my parents were ever married.’
‘Maybe your mum kept them in a different place and you didn’t find them. Or could your mum have destroyed them in a fit of anger after your father’s affair?’ Fern asked.
‘I went through the house methodically, I would have found them. I did think about her wanting to be rid of them, but I don’t think she did destroy them.’ Belinda put everything back in the envelope. ‘Ever since I realised they were missing, I’ve been thinking about my mum. She never talked to me about her wedding day. Even when I asked her a direct question – what was her dress like, for instance, or where did they go on honeymoon – she’d brush me off. Called me an old romantic.
‘I remember asking to see their wedding photographs. I mean everyone has photos of their wedding, don’t they? Even if they don’t have an album as such. Mum laughed and told me they were too broke when they got married to afford a photographer and that’s why she didn’t have any photos. When I asked if that didn’t make her sad, she just shrugged and said, who needed photos when she had the person.’
Belinda took a biscuit and carefully dunked it in her wine. ‘Mmm, these are so good. The best nibbles ever.’
‘They’re a bit addictive,’ Fern said, taking one. ‘I don’t make them very often – they tend to lead me to the wine bottle when I have them in the biscuit tin. Too much temptation.’
‘I’ve been thinking too about Mum’s reactions when I was planning my marriage to Peter,’ Belinda said. ‘I bought every bridezilla magazine I could lay my hands on and Mum fell on them every time. She’d go through them muttering, “Who’d wear a dress like that? How much?” and other things like that. When I wanted her advice on wedding etiquette and how to do things, can you guess what she said?’
Fern shook her head.
‘“You don’t want a wedding like mine, darling. We were just two crazy hippies who didn’t make a big deal out of it. Your wedding day though is going to be wonderful.” And it was. Shame the marriage failed to live up to expectations.’ Belinda sighed. ‘The more I talk about it, the more I think they never married. Which raises the obvious question, why not? I remember them as loving parents to me and loving towards each other, until that dreadful day when Mum dragged me away because Dad had had an affair.’
‘Do you have any relatives who might know the truth?’
‘No. Damn, I should have asked Molly while I was over there. She and Mum were quite close. I do remember them having a party on the thirtieth of June every year and claiming it was for their anniversary. Mind, it could have been the anniversary of the day they met or got together, for all I know.’ Belinda helped herself to another biscuit and dunked it. ‘You’re right, these are addictive.’ She glanced at Fern. ‘You remember that waitress, Sandrine? I was wondering whether I’d go and talk to her. She, or probably her parents, would have heard all the gossip after we left. Not sure that I want to bring it all out into the open again.’ She groaned to herself. ‘But I really really want to know the truth about my parents.’
‘We’re talking about the late 1960s here, aren’t we?’ Fern said thoughtfully. ‘What was the name of the village your grandmother lived in?’
‘Saint-Herbot,’ Belinda answered. ‘Why?’
‘I was wondering whether Anouk would have heard anything all those years ago. You said you lived on a smallholding nearby and Huelgoat isn’t a million miles away from Saint-Herbot.’ Fern did some mental calculations. ‘Anouk has lived in Huelgoat since she married sixty-five years ago. And villages in those days thrived on gossip even more than today. She may have heard something but not necessarily known the people involved.’
‘It’s worth asking her, I suppose,’ Belinda said.
‘Come for supper soon and you can ask her yourself,’ Fern said. ‘I’ll introduce you to Scott too.’
‘Thanks. I can always go and see Sandrine afterwards if Anouk doesn’t know anything,’ which Belinda thought was more than likely to be the case. Everyone knew that old people’s memories weren’t always the most reliable.
The cottage door slammed, startling them both, as well as the two dogs, who jumped up, barking simultaneously.
‘Evening, Belinda, Fern,’ Alain said, appearing in the doorway. ‘I won’t disturb you, just going to make a spot of supper. Anyone like anything?’
‘No thanks,’ Fern said, standing up. ‘I must go.’ She turned to Belinda. ‘I’ll see you soon and I’ll also have a quiet word with Anouk.’
‘Thanks. I’ll see you out.’
Standing watching Fern drive away, Belinda realised that she’d never got around to asking her what she should do about Chloe moving to the Vendée. Let her go? Or go with her? It would keep until the next time she saw Fern. Sighing inwardly, she went back indoors.
Alain was sitting on the settee, a plate of sandwiches in front of him, a car magazine on his lap. He glanced up as Belinda returned. ‘I ’ope I didn’t drive Fern away?’
‘No of course not. She needed to get back for Anouk,’ Belinda answered and gave him a sharp glance. ‘You’ve got over your bad temper from this morning then?’
‘Oui, it is all sorted now,’ Alain said. ‘You ’ave un problème? You look préoccupée.’
‘I wanted to ask Fern’s advice about something, but we were so busy talking about… about something else, that I didn’t get time.’
‘Want to ask me?’
Honestly, she never knew where she was with this man. One minute he was being obnoxious and the next, well, the next he was being friendly.
Belinda, went to shake her head and say no, but found herself saying instead, ‘It’s my daughter and her husband.’
Alain waited.
‘Max has been promoted at work. They’re moving to the Vendée and want me to go with them.’
‘Do you want to go?’
‘I don’t know,’ Belinda said helplessly. ‘I can’t see the wood for the trees.’
‘Excuse? I do not know that English saying.’ Alain looked at her.
‘It means I can’t see my way to making a decision. There are too many “ifs”.’ She sighed. ‘Anyway, I think I’ll have a shower and then go to bed. See you in the morning.’