Chapter 11

T

he short plane ride home – less than fifteen minutes ˗ didn’t give Nicole much time for reflection. But it was enough for her to try and get a take on what had happened that day.

It had been pretty momentous. How often does any grown woman get to meet, for the first time, both her mother and grandmother in one afternoon? And she couldn’t help but compare them to the women she had known all her life. Mary’s parents had died when Nicole was a baby but her paternal grandmother had lived until a few years ago, outliving her husband by ten years. Mary, the stay at home mother who had lived in her husband’s shadow for many years and Hélène, the unmarried teacher. Then Gran, the woman who had seemed very old to her from childhood, and Eve, who she suspected had once been a very lively woman. Gran had given birth to her father, an only child, late in life. Nicole had never found her very loving.

‘Nicole! Sit up straight, girl. And hold your knife and fork like this.’

She could picture herself, about five years old, having Sunday dinner with her grandparents, something she dreaded. It was so formal ˗ they even had a maid to serve the food! – while they all sat round the huge mahogany table, perched on uncomfortable tall chairs. Nicole struggled to hold the heavy silver cutlery that her grandmother insisted she used, even though at home her mother allowed her to use a child-size set. Gran, stern, straight backed and grey haired maintained that children, even an only grandchild, should be seen and not heard. And only seen under close supervision for Sunday dinners. Nicole, with the benefit of maturity and hindsight, could now see why her father had been so stiff and formal himself. Poor Dad! He’d found it so hard to be at ease with her when she was small, only reaching out more when they could hold a proper conversation.

Eve and her gran were like chalk and cheese, she thought, idly looking down at the outline of Jersey slowly filling the horizon. Eve was mentally young for her years, still displaying a spark of mischief, unthinkable in her “other” grandmother. And Hélène was so different to Mary. Although her unhappiness was worn like a tight coat, stifling her, Nicole was certain that she’d been a bright, loving woman who had just had the misfortune to fall in love with the wrong man. Her father! She gulped and bit her lip hard at the thought but couldn’t dwell on it further as the little plane bounced gently on the tarmac. Home again – for the moment.

Later that evening, after a quick supper and a large glass of courage-inducing wine, Nicole rang her parents.

‘Hi, Mum, it’s me. How are you?’

‘Nicole, lovely to hear from you. I’m fine, thanks. Have you…have you been to Guernsey today?’ Mary’s throat felt dry and her heart thumped as she waited to hear about The Meeting. She nodded to Ian who came over and squeezed her gently.

‘Yes, it’s been quite a day! Not only did I meet Hélène but also her mother Eve. We seemed to hit it off…’ Nicole described the day’s events, her voice sounding neutral, almost as if it had been an average day out.

‘We left it that I’d get in touch if and when I wanted to see them again. I…I might want to, if you didn’t mind, Mum?’

Mary heard the hesitation in her daughter’s voice and took a deep breath. Nicole had met her mother and grandmother and the world hadn’t ended. She made it sound like a normal meeting of long-lost relatives which, of course, it was. Except that these were very close long-lost relations.

‘Of course I don’t mind, darling. This is what you hoped for and I can understand that you want to know these…ladies better. Fancy! A new grandmother as well! But you said she’s frail?’ Mary still felt her heart beating faster than usual.

‘Yes, she’s in a wheelchair but her mind’s very sharp. I think Hélène finds her difficult to handle as she winds her up. I guess it’s difficult for them as they’re both independent.’

‘Did…did Hélène say anything about your father?’ Mary felt Ian squeeze her harder.

Nicole told her what little she knew about Adrian.

‘I see. Will you try and meet up with him too?’

‘I don’t know. It’s obviously a sore point with Hélène that he hasn’t been in touch with her since his wife died and I don’t want to do anything to make matters worse. He doesn’t sound like a very nice man so perhaps it’s better if I don’t.’

Mary began to relax as they chatted for a few minutes before she handed the phone over to Ian. She walked outside onto the naya where they’d been having a drink after supper and picked up her glass. Taking a sip she realised that the first irrevocable step had been taken and all she could do now was wait. Wait and see if Nicole would still continue to love her and Ian as her parents and not prefer this…this other woman, Hélène. She felt tears prick at her eyes and gulped some wine. Surely Nicole wouldn’t stop loving them…?