Chapter 16

‘A

drian Bourgaize speaking.’

‘It’s me, Hélène.’

For a moment Adrian thought he must have misheard. Hélène? After all these years? Surely not! She’d been adamant she never wanted to speak to him again. And she hadn’t – until now.

‘Adrian? Are you there?’

‘Yes, yes I am. I was just surprised to hear your voice after…How are you?’ He pulled himself together.

‘Fine, thanks. I’m living with Mother now. She’s very frail and I felt I had to…’

‘Of course. I’m sorry. It must be difficult for you. I read about your father, perhaps I should have written –’

‘No, I didn’t expect you to. And…and I’m sorry about Carol. Must have been hard for you.’ He heard the tightness in her voice.

‘Yes, it was. But the…children and our friends rallied round. And being Head kept me pretty well occupied.’ He had to take a deep breath. ‘You know I’ve just retired?’

‘I’d heard. I’m still working as I have to support us both, with Mother having no real income. I’ll have to carry on until she…’

Adrian heard the bitterness in her voice and his feelings of guilt rushed up from the deep place he’d buried them for so long.

‘Oh, Hélène, I’m so sorry. If there’s anything I can do to help?’

‘There is, actually. Our daughter is here and wants to meet you.’ The words were spat out.

‘Our daughter! Oh my God!’ Adrian gripped the phone tighter to stop it sliding out of his hand. ‘How…how long have you known her?’

‘She only contacted me a few weeks ago. It was a bit of a shock as you can imagine. But I’d always hoped that she’d try.’

‘I can understand that. I didn’t even know you’d had a girl.’ He had another daughter! He did a quick calculation – she must be thirty-five – could be a mother, like Karen.

‘What’s her name? Is she married?’

‘Nicole, and she recently separated from her husband. Apparently that’s why she set out to find me. To…to understand herself better.’

‘I see. And she wants to meet me too.’ He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Nicole had every right to feel badly about him but surely she wouldn’t want to meet him just to say that? Was this a chance to redeem himself in her eyes? And even Hélène’s? He thought quickly.

‘I would like to meet her. How long’s she staying with you?’

‘I don’t know. But I’m sure she’d prefer to meet sooner rather than later.’

‘Yes, of course. Could you please ring me with a time that suits Nicole? I have few commitments these days.’ Adrian visualised his near-empty calendar and sighed.

‘Will do. Bye Adrian.’ The phone went dead.

Adrian wondered if the proverbial can of worms was now about to be opened. And if he would survive.

***

Nicole was glad to be out of the house with the chance to stretch her legs. The coastal path zig-zagged around the imposing cliffs and she had to watch her step. Striking out westwards again, she enjoyed the sensation as her skin met the gentle, crisp warm breeze. Heather and gorse provided a colourful contrast to the grass and she found herself relaxing. So much had happened in the past twenty-four hours that she felt emotionally drained. And confused. It felt as if she’d stepped into someone else’s skin and was living their life, not hers. Like that girl in the film, she thought, she was only acting, but it seemed real. Her own life appeared to have vanished into another dimension since she’d started this journey to find her mother – and herself. Nicole decided to call it PM, Post Mother and AM, Ante Mother as she sucked on a blade of grass. Giggling, she felt better than she had since her arrival.

Okay, girl, you started this and you’ve got to see it through. You’ve torpedoed other people’s lives now. Got to give them a chance to recover. Particularly Hélène. The thought brought her up sharp. She was beginning to feel fond of her “mother”, feeling she’d been badly treated by life. Nicole couldn’t begin to imagine what it must have been like to give up both the man you loved and a new-born baby. Perhaps I can make it up to her? The thought that Hélène was, on Nicole’s behalf, having to speak to the man she’d loved so many years ago prompted her to check her watch and decide that she’d better go back. She wasn’t sure who would need consoling the most – herself or Hélène.

***

Hélène was in the kitchen, chopping up vegetables as if her life depended on it.

‘Hi. Did you get through to…Adrian?’

Hélène looked up and forced a smile.

‘Yes, I did. And he’s agreed to meet you. He’s suggested I phone him with a suitable time. When would you like to go? He’s free anytime.’

‘Tomorrow morning would be great, thanks. How…how was it for you? Talking to him?’

‘A bit difficult. After more than thirty-five years, it was bound to be.’ She put down the knife and rubbed her temples. Her head had ached since the phone call and she wondered if she should take a painkiller. Gazing at Nicole’s concerned face she added, ‘But we …we’ve broken the ice now. And you two can meet without my being involved. I’m glad he wants to see you. Should help you…move on.’ Her voice caught on a sob and Nicole stepped round the table and hugged her. They clung together while Hélène sought to calm herself. ‘Isn’t it supposed to be the mother comforting the child?’ she asked, shakily.

‘Not always. It depends. What about you and Grandmother?’

Hélène released herself gently and looking at her daughter, replied, ‘We’ve never been good at hugging. I don’t think she was hugged much as a child, not from what I saw of her mother, who wasn’t at all maternal. My father was much more loving, always happy to cuddle me.’ She bit her lips before straightening up, telling herself not to burden Nicole with her own grief. She went off to make the phone call and was back moments later to say she’d arranged for them to meet for coffee in St Peter Port the next morning.

‘I’ll lend you my Perry’s guide, absolutely essential to finding your way around.’ She rooted around in a drawer and passed it to Nicole.

‘Right, lunch is ready. I’ll go and fetch Mother if you could lay the table, please.’

Moments later she wheeled in a very pale Eve who managed a small smile as she nodded to Nicole. After the usual pleasantries were exchanged the three women sat in silence as they ate. Hélène kept glancing at Eve, feeling worried about her, but when she suggested that Eve might prefer to go back to bed, Eve snapped back that she was fine and not to fuss.

‘Grandmother, would you like me to come and read to you after lunch? Or just chat? I’d love to know what it was like here during the Occupation if you felt up to talking.’

‘I’m happy to talk for a little while, but I wasn’t here during the Occupation. I was evacuated with my younger sister to England.’

‘Oh, I see. Well, I’m sure you’ve still got some interesting stories to tell.’

Hélène looked on in amazement. Her mother had never offered to talk to her about the war! But, thinking back, perhaps she’d never asked. She’d always felt that her mother hadn’t wanted to talk about it. She had to agree with Nicole, Eve probably had a few old tales stored away. She set to washing the dishes as Nicole wheeled Eve back to her room. Hélène felt a slight pang of jealousy at the thought that Eve seemed more at ease with Nicole than with herself. Perhaps it was just a generational thing, she consoled herself.

***

Nicole settled Eve by the window, but then asked her if she’d rather sit outside as it was a beautiful hot day.

‘Perhaps I could try for just a little while. I seem to feel cold all the time – ’

‘I’ll bring you straight back, don’t worry. The fresh air might perk you up.’ She pushed open the French windows and Eve sniffed the air in approval. The wheelchair rolled out easily onto the terrace and Nicole made sure she was not facing the bright sun.

‘Comfortable? I can get you more rugs, cushions’

‘No, I’m fine, thank you.’ Eve inhaled deeply as she looked around her beloved garden. ‘It needs a lot of work, doesn’t it? I haven’t been able to garden for a couple of years. And we can’t afford professional help.’ She sighed. She knew she was being pig-headed by insisting she wouldn’t move to a care home, but she so loved her garden, the view of the sea and the little independence left to her. Not that I’ve seen the best of the view for a while now. Perhaps I should give in to Hélène and let her sell…

Nicole broke into her thoughts. ‘Would you like me to pick some roses for you? Some are overblown and won’t last much longer, anyway. You can enjoy their perfume.’

‘That would be lovely, thank you. You’ll find some secateurs on the table in my room.’

She watched Nicole pick three beautiful, big pink roses and bring them to her. Eve held them carefully as she breathed in their intoxicating scent.

‘Oh, thank you, my dear. Just what I needed.’ As Nicole sat down on a chair, Eve continued, ‘Now, you’d like to know a bit about what happened during the war?’

‘Only if it doesn’t tire or upset you.’

Eve shook her head. ‘It wasn’t as bad for me as it was for those who stayed here. At least I didn’t have to live under the thumb of German soldiers like so many of my friends and family.’ Sadness tugged at her heart as the memories surfaced. ‘My brother was killed fighting for Britain like so many of the young Guernsey lads. My parents never really got over his death.’ She looked up at Nicole, adding, ‘He was supposed to carry on with their farm and produce heirs, and look after them in their old age.’ Eve laughed bitterly. ‘When my little sister and I returned after the war my parents barely spoke to us. Lottie, who was seventeen by then, couldn’t stand it and went back to England. She later married a man she met there and never returned. Even when I married Reg and had Hélène my parents virtually ignored me.’

Eve looked out over her garden and smiled. ‘They were the losers, though. Reg and I bought this house and land at a rock-bottom price and became very successful growers. Made more money than my parents ever made on the farm. I don’t think they ever forgave us for that.’

Eve found herself retreating into thoughts of the past, to a time of much laughter…and tears.