An association of ideas led the professor to thoughts of his cousin Gwen. The letter he had been about to post to her was still in his hand. Maybe he should have suggested that his cousin pay him a visit? Or should he propose visiting her? He hurried home with the letter unposted to add a postscript.
About to reseal the envelope, a further thought struck him. ‘P.P.S.,’ he wrote. ‘I wonder, did we, as children, know anyone, can you remember, who had a parrot?’
57
Chartres
When Alain and Agnès got back to the Deanery, they found a note stuck in the letterbox: ‘Key under geranium pot. Help yourselves to wine.’
‘He’s not afraid of burglars, then?’ Alain suggested.
They let themselves in quietly.
‘Do you think it’s really all right for us to help ourselves?’ Agnès asked as Alain poured her a glass. ‘I generally wash these for him.’
‘I’m sure it’s all right. He’s a very generous man. Exceptionally so.’
‘Yes.’
He sat down next to her on the blue chaise-longue, running his hand over the dark silk. ‘Paul has taste. Listen, no need to now but sometime, my darling, you might want to tell me how you came to have Gabriel.’
‘Yes.’
‘No hurry. Or compulsion. Never let that be the case with us. You know that?’
‘I think so.’ She thought a moment and then said, ‘I will tell you. But – but now is too nice to spoil.’
‘When you’re ready.’
‘You know, when I said I didn’t like it much?’
‘Yes.’
‘I didn’t like it at all. Not at all.’
‘And now?’
‘You’re making me blush.’
‘Good.’
Much later he said, ‘I don’t want to leave you but I think it’s politer to Paul if I go. And you should rest up.’
‘Alain . . .’
‘Yes?’
‘You will. . .’
‘I’ll come and fetch you without fail but not before you’ve had time to rest.’
• • •
So it was only the Abbé Paul and Agnès who sat over their breakfast coffee together in his fire-lit study the following morning.
The goldfinch had long left the spray of hips but a jay was performing a raucous solo in the garden.
‘You look better, my dear,’ suggested the Abbé Paul. Better than ‘better’, he thought.
‘Father Paul –’
‘Paul, please.’
‘I’m not sure I can call you anything but “Father”, Father.’
‘If you must, then.’
‘When I was in the cathedral with Max, the day I fainted and you brought me here, I saw something.’
‘Yes?’
‘Yes.’ She sat there a moment. Then, ‘I saw the Virgin. At least I think, no, I know it was her. She came through the wall of the South Transept in a blue light.’
‘Ah.’
‘That’s all really. I wanted to tell someone.’
‘Thank you for telling me.’
‘I’ve not told anyone else.’
‘Not even Alain?’
It might have been the closest the Abbé Paul could come to a reproach, but if Agnès felt that the mention of her lover had more behind it than the simple question suggested, she ignored this. ‘I think, I can’t explain, but I think, I feel, that I should only tell you.’
‘It’s a great honour.’
‘I know.’
The Abbé Paul was not a visionary. Nor, on the whole, did he take much account of reports of such occurrences. But he had lived long enough in and thought deeply enough about the world to know that the fine mesh of what is called ‘reality’ was also made up of exceptions. ‘I meant that it’s a great honour that you do me.’
She sat thinking some more. ‘It’s like this. I think it’s like this. I found a “father”. He died but he gave me love and care and his coat and my silver chain. I think, I know this sounds odd, but I don’t know how else to put it, but I think in a way, you’ve been my “mother”.’
The Abbé Paul said nothing to this but he smiled. If this strange pronouncement from the young woman, who looked that morning, in his shabby dressing gown, so unbearably radiant, hurt him at all no mortal soul could have detected it.
Looking across to him, Agnès said, ‘I know it sounds odd. You don’t mind?’
He stood up and went over to embrace her. Holding her close, so she should not see that his eyes were unsuccessful in holding back tears, he said, ‘My dear Agnès. How could I possibly mind?’
Afterword
There are no true endings but there are places where any account comes to a natural halt. Those who have followed this story may like to know that Max Nevers was eventually given into the care of his uncle, Philippe, and his civil partner, Tan.
Denis Deman did return to France. With the help of Sister Laurence, he finally tracked down his old patient Agnès Morel. But he never learned the full truth about the events he had triggered.
Agnès continued to help to look after Max while she and Alain remained in Chartres. After they left, they were frequent visitors at the Deanery, where they were the guests of their friend, the Abbé Paul, godfather to their son, Jean-Paul.
So far, Agnès has not found her first child, Gabriel. She lives in hope.
The Cleaner of Chartres Page 27
