chapter 7

Nicole swallowed her disappointment and sent the letter on to the address of Hélène’s parents in Torteval. Not really a religious person, having been bored rigid in church as a child, she now decided to hedge her bets and pray. Couldn’t do any harm, she reasoned, praying that Hélène was still in Guernsey and would somehow, soon, get her letter.

Whether or not there had indeed been divine intervention, a few days later she had a phone call.

‘Hello.’

‘Is that Nicole Oxford?’ a woman’s voice she didn’t recognise. Neither young nor old but somehow diffident.

‘Yes. Who’s calling?’

‘I’m Hélène Ferbrache. You wrote to me.’

Oh, my God, it’s her! Nicole gasped and her hand holding the phone trembled.

‘Mm, hello. Thanks for phoning. How…how are you?’ Nicole, usually the most articulate of people, felt suddenly lost for words.

‘I’m fine, thanks. I…was so pleased to hear from you. I wasn’t sure if I ever would, had convinced myself that, after all this time, I wouldn’t.’ Nicole heard the woman draw a deep breath. ‘That you hadn’t given me a thought. Were happy in your own life.’

There followed a long pause.

‘Well, to be honest I hadn’t always planned to get in touch. I had such a busy life in England but I think, deep down, I’d always wanted to know more about you. Now…now feels like the right time.’ Nicole’s mind whirled. What to say? ‘Mm, I was so happy to learn that you wanted me to contact you, but then found you’d moved.’

A deep sigh echoed down the line.

‘Yes, I had to…move in with my mother about three years ago. My father died several years ago and now Mother can’t manage on her own.’

Nicole heard the edge of bitterness in her voice.

‘Oh, I see. You didn’t…marry?’ Nicole felt as if someone else was asking the questions, as if she wasn’t actually part of this conversation. Hélène sounded strained, too.

‘No. The opportunity never, er, presented itself. You’re my only child.’ Again the edge of bitterness could be heard.

‘Right, well my parents didn’t have any more children either. And all my grandparents are dead.’ Nicole had a thought. ‘Except your mother. So I do have a grandmother.’

‘Yes, and I’m sure she’d love to meet you sometime.’ Another pause and Nicole heard Hélène take a sip of something. Dutch courage, perhaps? She wished she had a drink to hand herself. Her head was all over the place and her hands felt clammy.

Hélène continued. ‘Of course, we’d have to meet first and see how we get on. If… you still want to, that is…’ Her voice tailed off.

Nicole’s emotions were mixed. On the one hand she had set this in motion and had convinced herself it was necessary to meet her mother; on the other she felt as scared as Hélène sounded. Taking a deep breath she replied, ‘Oh, yes. I’d really like to come over and meet you and then we could see…’

‘Good.’ Hélène’s voice sounded brighter. ‘The school holidays start next week so I’ll be at home. Would you come over for the day?’

‘Yes, sounds good. How about Monday?’

‘Fine with me. I’ll pick you up from the airport and we can go somewhere to talk and…get to know each other.’

After taking down Hélène’s phone number Nicole said goodbye and sat for a while, lost in thought. She had rehearsed what she’d planned to say when they first spoke to each other but somehow it had all gone out of her head. Her mother was now a real person, not just a name in a file, on a piece of paper. And in a few days she’d actually see, and be able to touch, this woman who had nurtured her in her body for nine months, given birth to her but then let another woman take her. Right, she thought, got a lot of phone calls to make…

 

It was years since Nicole had been over to Guernsey and she didn’t know it very well. So much smaller than Jersey, it looked from the plane to consist of more densely populated areas and fewer open fields than her home island. The tiny plane, sporting a red nose and called Joey, was one of the island hoppers connecting the two largest Channel Islands. It performed a slightly bumpy landing before taxiing up to the terminal. She was through to the main hall in moments and looked around for Hélène, who had told her she’d be wearing a red linen skirt and white top and had medium length, light brown hair.

There she was! Standing apart from the huddle of people ready to welcome other passengers, a hesitant smile on her face. Nicole thought she looked familiar, the hazel eyes…She moved closer.

‘Nicole? I’m Hélène. It’s so good to see you at last!’

They faced each other, both uncertain of the right move. After a moment’s hesitation, Hélène reached out and gave Nicole a hug.

Nicole pulled back gently so that she could take a look at this stranger who was not a stranger. Her hair, although touched with grey, was a similar shade to her own. They had the same eyes but not the mouth. Hélène’s mouth was smaller, thinner and etched with lines matching those around the eyes, making her look older than her years. She doesn’t look happy. Nicole felt a spurt of sympathy.

‘Well, we can’t stand here all day or people will talk!’ Hélène broke into the silence hanging over them. She led the way to her car and as she unlocked it said, ‘I thought we could go to a place nearby on the cliffs. We can sit outside and have a coffee or something.’

‘Fine by me.’ Nicole felt her palms moistening and wiped them on her jeans.

They drove in silence down winding lanes leading from the airport, finally coming to rest in an area signposted Le Gouffre, where Helen parked outside a bright, cheery café with views out to sea.

‘It’s a Greek restaurant and if we want to stay for lunch I can recommend the food,’ Hélène said. They chose a table set away from the others, offering a clear view over the valley.

‘What a lovely spot!’

‘Yes, isn’t it? I come here when I need to get out of the house. I go for a long walk on the cliff path before recovering here with a coffee.’ Hélène smoothed down her skirt before adding, ‘How about a glass of wine instead of coffee? Might help us both relax a bit.’

‘Yep, great. Feels like a blind date but somehow scarier,’ she smiled at Hélène.

The older woman nodded in agreement and they ordered wine.

It helped.

‘Nicole, as you’re the one who’s set this in motion, it’s only fair that you ask the questions. I’m happy to tell you anything you want to know.’

‘Thanks. Could you start by telling me a bit more about yourself and your family?’

Hélène took a deep breath.

‘I was born here just after the war. My parents, Eve and Reg, were growers in Torteval and my mother and I still live in the old family home. I’m an only child, my mother miscarried after me and that was it.’ She took a sip of wine. ‘My father was quite a bit older than my mother and he retired in 1980. He…died of a heart attack in 2000.’ For a moment she was quiet, biting her lips.

‘I’m sorry.’

After a muttered thanks, Hélène continued.

‘I…I was very close to Dad. It was a shock as he’d always been so strong. I was living in my house in Town and for a while Mother managed on her own. But her health started to deteriorate three years ago so I moved back to help her.’

‘That must have been a big sacrifice.’

She gave a short laugh. ‘It was. She’s very independent and resents my being there but neither of us has much choice. It’s either that or she’d have to go into care. Not really an option. As I don’t have my own family to take care of, it would be frowned on if I put her in a home.’

‘Mm, sounds like you don’t get on with your mother,’ Nicole looked at her, sensing a bitter woman. Could this really be my mother? She’s not at all what I imagined.

‘Well, I admit I was a lot closer to Dad. And Mother and I used to get on fairly well when he was alive. It’s just a bit…difficult living together. Two women, no man around to act as ballast.’

Nicole nodded. ‘Yes, I can understand that. You’d rather be in your own home.’

‘For sure! But that’s the way it is so we both have to get on with it. And as her health is only going to get worse not better I know it’s not forever,’ Hélène sighed. ‘She’s eighty-five but physically seems much older.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ Her stomach clenched as she asked the vital question. ‘Mm, Hélène, could you tell me something about my father, please?’