Chapter 31
Lu
Aimée was amazing. She came round to the château within an hour of Gray calling her, accompanied by the local chief of police. He had a look at the body, but Aimée declared she did not want to go up there. To be fair, she was wearing white linen trousers – completely unsuitable clothing for climbing up that soot-blackened narrow staircase. She remained in our sitting room with Gray and Manda, while the rest of us took the chief of police up. He came down pretty quickly – he only needed to confirm it was indeed an ancient body and not someone one of us might have killed. We gave statements, he filled in forms, and left, saying he’d soon be in touch again with Madame la Maire, who would then advise us on how to proceed regarding disposing of the remains.
‘I’d like to think we can bury her,’ I said. ‘With her husband.’
Aimée stared at me. ‘Does this mean you know who she was?’
I explained about Pierre and Catherine, and what I’d found out about Catherine going missing, and then I showed her the ring. ‘So you see, I am pretty sure she must be Catherine. I wonder if she got trapped up there when the château burned, perhaps.’
‘What a sad way to go.’ Aimée shook her head and reached for Gray’s hand. ‘But yes, it would be nice to put her with her husband. There is a family Aubert tomb in the graveyard, I think?’
‘Yes, there is.’
‘I will speak to the priest for you.’
‘Thank you. One thing I can’t quite work out is how her children survived.’ It had been bugging me since we found Catherine. Why was she locked in the tower room alone, without her children?
‘Did they survive? How do you know this?’
I explained about the research I’d done, helped by Pascal. ‘They stayed in the area, married and had children of their own. I have not been able to trace all their descendants, but I found one. You’re not going to believe this. It’s Monsieur Baudin.’
Aimée actually clapped her hands with excitement at this. ‘That is wonderful! So this poor lady can have a relative at her burial service. Perhaps we can bring Monsieur Baudin here for the service. And he will enjoy seeing Felix again, no doubt.’
Two days later, everything was arranged. The police had formally handed over the remains to us, Aimée had arranged a burial service with the local priest, and I had telephoned Monsieur Baudin to tell him what we had found, and to invite him to the burial and to a party afterwards in the château.
It had been strange, being in the château and knowing there was a dead body above us in the tower. ‘Not a body, a skeleton,’ Phil reminded me. ‘And she’s been there all along.’
Nevertheless, I was glad when the undertakers arrived to remove her. They brought her down from the tower wrapped only in a sheet, which Manda had donated, as there was no possibility of carrying a coffin up those narrow stairs. But they treated her with the utmost respect at all times, and when she was eventually laid reverently in her coffin in our hallway I shed a few tears. Before they closed the coffin, I gently arranged her hair so that it fell in waves over her shoulders. The sheet was tucked up under her chin.
‘You can rest now, Catherine. And tomorrow you will be with Pierre and your firstborn again, for all time,’ I whispered, before stepping away from the coffin to allow the undertakers to close and fasten the lid. Phil took hold of my hand and squeezed it. I had the impression he was as choked up as I was.
The burial service was brief but moving. Monsieur Baudin came, in a wheelchair and attended by a carer. Before Catherine was placed into the Aubert tomb he asked to be pushed close to it, and he put a hand reverently on the simple wooden coffin, closing his eyes as though saying a private prayer for his ancestor. He existed because of this woman, who’d been lost for so long but now was found. I was pleased we had been able to help resolve her mystery.
Felix had attended the service too – sitting as good as gold at Monsieur Baudin’s side, leaning against him, as the priest said a few words that I was pleased to find I could understand. My French had improved so much since coming to live here. Sadly Monsieur Baudin could not come to the château afterwards, as his carer could not spare the time. But I managed to invite him for a pre-Christmas party a month later, promising we would arrange his transport.
‘Thank you, I would be pleased to come,’ he said in French, squeezing my hand. His carer was looking at her watch and beginning to look fidgety.
That was when I remembered about the ring and pulled it out of my handbag. ‘Oh yes. I must give you this. As Catherine Aubert’s direct descendant it belongs to you. It was found with her remains.’ I showed him the inscription on the inside.
He looked up at me with misty eyes. ‘This is beautiful. I have a daughter – she is far away in California but she will visit me soon. She would like to have this. Thank you.’ He took the ring and raised it to his lips, kissing it. I loved that he now had a tangible link to his ancestry, and that the ring would be cherished by future generations. Catherine’s story would live on.
It had taken quite a bit of work and a lot of keeping quiet – something I am not entirely renowned for being good at. But finally all the arrangements were in place. Phil, the only other person who knew, had sworn secrecy but he had a habit of winking at me every now and again which made me blush. The others would make lewd jokes if they spotted the wink and blush. ‘Hey up, you two, get a room!’ Gray quipped on more than one occasion.
But as Christmas approached the time was getting near. We were all busy making the spare rooms ready for all our guests – Tom was coming, as well as Clemmie and Hope, and Alfie was making his first visit to us too. Everyone had lots of plans for the period – Clemmie and Hope wanted a shopping trip in Nice; Tom, Alfie and Phil had tickets for a rugby match in Toulon against Munster; Gray was intending taking Aimée for a weekend in St Tropez. Manda was doing a grand job of putting on a brave face – she was looking forward to having the four youngsters with us but of course sad that her Zoe couldn’t be there too.
Little did she know!
Zoe and I had Skyped many times making the arrangements. It was her idea to keep the whole thing secret from her parents. ‘I want to surprise them,’ she’d said. ‘Mum’s face – it’ll be awesome. And if I tell Dad, he won’t be able to stop himself telling Mum. So will you help, Lu?’
I had grinned from ear to ear as we chatted that day, and on the various other occasions afterwards. I’d had to commandeer a corner of the tabac in the village to use when talking to her, to reduce the risk of Manda, Steve or Gray walking in on us.
I’d quietly made the lower tower room ready for a guest. Interestingly, Felix had been happy to enter that room while I worked on it, and curl up for a nap. He’d always seemed to hate it before our discovery of Catherine’s remains. It’d probably be Tom using the tower room – I couldn’t imagine Zoe would want to take it after our grisly discovery up above, but Tom wouldn’t mind. I’d already asked if he’d mind taking that room again and he’d leapt at the chance. It had a power supply now, so he’d have lights and sockets and an electric heater. The electrics in the château seemed to have settled down at last. So while Manda thought Tom would be sleeping in one of the newly decorated second-floor guest rooms that she’d made up, those would be taken by Clemmie, Hope, Alfie and Zoe. And by the biggest surprise of all.
At last, on the Saturday before Christmas, the day for Zoe’s arrival came round. I’d planned to be the one to collect her from Nice airport but Clemmie and Hope, who’d arrived the day before, had roped me into helping them make a chocolate cake as part of their present for Gray, and then Alfie had pestered me to play board games with him and Tom, and there seemed no easy way to get away without making people suspicious. Phil, meanwhile, had loudly announced that he needed to drive to a garden centre for sacks of compost, and had winked at me as he passed through the kitchen where I was pulling bags of sugar and flour out of the larder ready for the cake-baking.
I frowned, excused myself for a
moment and went out to the hallway to see what he wanted. ‘I’ll fetch Zoe,’ he whispered. ‘I don’t need any compost. You make sure Manda and Steve are here when I get back in a couple of hours. And maybe put some bubbly in the fridge.’
I hugged him. ‘Thanks, darling. That’s a real help.’
He’d left, and I’d helped with the cake making and played a couple of board games. I’d put Prosecco in the fridge as requested and then by mid-afternoon when Phil was due back, we were all in the sitting room drinking tea and coffee, chatting and laughing. Aimée had arrived, and unbelievably she’d brought a small suitcase which Gray had quietly taken up to his room. It was beginning to snow outside, just lightly, and I was hoping Phil would be back before it became heavier. I’d spotted Manda and even Steve looking wistfully at the four kids, who were hoping the snow would become heavier so they could make a snowman and go sledging, and had had to bite my tongue to stop myself saying, ‘Just you wait!’
And then there was a clattering at the front door, Phil’s voice calling out, ‘Hey honeys, I’m home!’ and some muttered whisperings which I think only I caught, being the one nearest the door and also being the only one expecting Phil not to be alone. The door to the sitting room opened and in they walked. Zoe, closely followed by a grinning Ryan who looked impossibly handsome and tanned, and then Phil.
‘Hi, Mum and Dad,’ Zoe said, dropping her handbag onto a sofa and holding her arms out to Manda.
‘Zoe? Oh my GOD!’ Manda squealed, knocking over a cup of tea as she hurried to her feet and threw her arms around her daughter. ‘Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God you are HERE!’ She was jumping up and down, crying and grinning and squeezing Zoe so hard I feared the poor girl would barely be able to breathe.
‘Zoe, wow, what a surprise!’ Steve wrapped his arms around them both and if I’m not very much mistaken there was a tear in his eye too. ‘How did you … I mean when … well, how long are you staying?’
‘Mum, Dad, let me introduce my fiancé Ryan,’ Zoe said, disentangling herself from her parents.
‘Hi, it’s fantastic to meet you both,’ Ryan replied, in what was unmistakably an English Midlands accent.
‘Good to meet you too,’ said Steve, nudging Manda who was standing with her mouth open.
‘Er, yes, hello Ryan. And congratulations to you both.’ Manda kissed Ryan’s cheeks in a French-style greeting.
‘So, Mum, if it’s OK with you all we’ll stay here for a week then go to the UK for a week to see some friends over New Year. Then back to Australia.’
‘A week!’ Manda looked both delighted and disappointed. A week she hadn’t expected with her daughter, but only a week.
‘Then, Mum, it’s only another three months till my contract is up. And we’ve decided’ – Zoe looked at Ryan, smiled and took his hand – ‘that we’ll then move back to Europe. Not sure where – either England, or Ryan quite fancies working in France if we can find something …’
‘ZOE!!!’ Manda squealed so loudly Gray, Aimée and I all put our hands over our ears. ‘That is amazing!’
‘Fantastic!’ Everyone was up on their feet, all talking at once, congratulating the engaged couple, asking after life in Australia and wedding plans. I quietly slipped out to the kitchen, followed by Phil, and came back with a tray of champagne glasses and the two bottles I’d put in the fridge to chill. Clemmie and Hope whispered to each other and then fetched the chocolate fudge cake they’d made earlier, some plates and forks and a knife. ‘Let’s have this to celebrate,’ Clemmie said to me. ‘We’ll make another for Dad. I seem to remember Zoe likes chocolate fudge.’
‘Oh, I do indeed,’ she said, picking up on the end of Clemmie’s comment.
It was a very happy, noisy party for the rest of the day. At one point Manda came to sit beside me. ‘This was your doing, was it, Lu?’
‘Zoe’s idea. But I facilitated it, yes.’
‘Best. Christmas. Ever,’ she said, feasting her eyes on her daughter who was now chatting to Hope.
I had to agree. For all of us, this first one in the château looked like being one to remember. As the snow fell outside I looked around at my husband, sons, best friends and their children, Felix and the kittens and felt supremely contented. We’d all been successful making a new life for ourselves here in France as we entered the ‘third age’ of our lives. It had taken me a little longer than the others to settle in, but I’d done it. I’d learned the language, got myself a job, solved a mystery and acquired a dog. It had all helped me begin to feel that Château d’Aubert and this corner of France were home.
We were lucky, we knew, to have been able to do all this. To have the money, the opportunity to retire early, and the freedom of movement to come to live here. We’d built, in a way, on the efforts of those who’d come before – people who’d fought for freedom and equality, who’d fought so that future generations could have equal chances in life, not constrained by their class or circumstances of their birth.
We were living our best life, and the years ahead promised to be the best yet.
Did Lu and Catherine’s story have you gripped? Don’t miss The Forgotten Secret, another unmissable read from Kathleen McGurl. Available now!
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Author’s Note
I well remember enjoying learning about the French Revolution at school, aged about 14, as part of a history curriculum covering ‘Revolutions that Changed the World’ – just as Lu used to teach. The events at Versailles and Paris in this novel are all true to history; however, the Auberts are fictional, as is their château, the village and its environs.
Chapter One was inspired by a rather drunken evening with my own set of old pals from my university days, during which we did indeed find ourselves Googling for French châteaux that we might all live in communally. Unlike Lu and her friends, we did not go ahead with the idea. (At least, we haven’t yet!)
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Acknowledgements
Firstly, huge thanks to my editor Abigail Fenton who helped pull a messy first draft into a much better shape. She managed to see the story I was trying to tell and her feedback was invaluable in turning this one into a readable book.
Thanks also to my husband Ignatius and son Fionn, who as always were the first readers of this novel – that messy first draft. Ignatius wants us to buy Château d’Aubert together with our friends. I have had to break the news to him gently that it’s a fictional place.
Thank you to Rachel Gilbey for her help arranging blog tours for this and previous novels. You really are the best! Thanks also to the community of book bloggers. You are all very much appreciated.
I must also thank all the team at HQ Digital for another stunning cover and for all the other work that goes into producing a novel. Sometimes I think writing the story is the easiest part of the process.
And finally, thanks to all my readers for your continued support. I’m so glad you enjoy my books, I love hearing from you, and hope you like this one too!
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Keep reading for an excerpt from The Stationmaster’s Daughter …
Prologue
For a moment he was frozen, unable to move, unable to react to what had just happened. Time stood still, and he stood with it, not seeing, not hearing, doing nothing.
And then as his senses returned he registered screams of horror, followed by the sight of that broken and twisted body lying at the foot of the stairs. How had it happened? Annie was screaming, lung-bursting screams of pain and terror. His instinct was to rush to her, gather her up and hold her, but would that make things worse? There was no going back now. No returning to how things used to be, before … before today, before all the horrible, life-changing events of the day. It was all over now.
The screams continued, and he knew that the next minutes would alter his life forever. He knew too that even without the broken body, the screams, the fall, his life had already changed irrevocably. The door to a future he had only dared dream of had been slammed shut in his face.
He allowed himself a moment’s grief for what had been and for what might have yet been, and then he shook himself into action, hurrying down the stairs to deal with it all. Not to put it right – that wasn’t possible – but to do his best. For Annie.
Chapter 1
Tilly – present day
It was her dad’s voice that Tilly Thomson could hear, outside the room she’d been sleeping in. Her dad. What was he doing here? She rolled over and buried her face in her Disney Princess pillow. She didn’t want to see him. No, that wasn’t true, she did want to see him – she wanted nothing more than to be scooped up in his strong arms, and for him to take all the pain away. But she didn’t want him to see her like this. Broken, sick, deep in a pit of despair. No parent should see their child in this sort of state. Even if that child was 39.
The Secret of the Chateau Page 28
