“Oui no problem, you have a headache? Too much wine, too much sun maybe?”
“Mm, something like that.” Butt ache more like she mentally added, slinging her bag over her shoulder.
Christian stood and she was surprised at how tall he was in his rumpled white suit. He held out his crooked arm, and as she linked hers through his she understood why her mother had chosen to stay with this man after Michael died. There was something innately kind about him that made her feel safe in his company.
Her eyes flitted over to the beautifully dressed windows of the shops they meandered past and she slowed her pace to match Christian’s. She got the feeling that these days he didn’t rush anywhere for anyone. She told herself to be patient as she wondered how old he was; she guessed somewhere in his early seventies so at his age why shouldn’t he take his time? Her eyes alighted on a rather gorgeous looking sweet shop. Under ordinary circumstances it would have urged her to come inside and fill a paper bag with its barrels of brightly coloured sweets, she made a mental note to pop in before she left. If she took a stash of sugary treats home for Yasmin, she might finally let the Mars bar incident go.
They left the peace of the square behind them as they rounded the corner and took a left onto the tree-lined, main road. The green cross she’d spied from the car earlier was a beacon of hope. Yes! Thank goodness relief was nearly at hand she thought, clenching her fist to resist the primal urge to scratch. That would not be the look in this part of the world where the women all seemed to have been blessed with a natural born sense of style and grace. She sniffed the air as a yeasty waft of freshly baked bread tickled her nostrils and she scanned the shop fronts ahead for the culprit. Ah there it was, she spotted the requisite patisserie a few doors down. A young, suit-clad man strode out, cell phone in one hand, baguette in a brown paper bag in the other. He paused to bite into the crusty loaf then carried on, and Kitty realised her stomach was rumbling.
“You go ahead oui? I will go in here to buy some cigars.” Christian gave a phlegmy cough as though to prove his intention as he paused outside a Tobacconist. Kitty nodded and disengaged her arm glad that he was not going to follow her into the pharmacy.
She averted her eyes as she walked past the array of glazed and glossy looking treats in the patisserie’s glass fronted cabinets and pushed open the door to the pharmacy next door. The shop area was mercifully empty as she stepped inside and made her way down the narrow middle. It was flanked either side by overstocked shelves she noticed, heading toward the counter at the far end. As she approached a young girl who looked like she must be bunking school, appeared from somewhere out the back of the shop. It must be the dispensary area Kitty thought, watching her wipe her mouth with the back of her hand before she smiled. Oops, I interrupted her lunch she realised. The girl said, “Bonjour.” Then looked at her expectantly in an invitation for Kitty to tell her what it was she wanted.
“Er bonjour, um hi.” She wished she didn’t feel so silly every time she dropped a French word. She was well aware that it was arrogance on her part to assume French people would speak English too, but well, needs must. “I’d like some antihistamine tablets for a wasp’s sting, please.”
The girl looked at her with a blank expression. “English?” To Kitty’s ear, this sounded like Einglash but it was close enough, and she nodded gratefully.
“Oui.”
“Non-English.” She smiled apologetically holding her hand up. “Un moment.”
Oh come on Kitty thought, furtively glancing back toward the door while the girl disappeared out the back once more. She scanned the shelves herself while she waited but couldn’t see anything that looked remotely like what she was after. A sticking plaster would not suffice she thought, with a disdainful glance at a box of Band-Aids.
She heard someone clear their throat and looked back at the counter where a woman, the pharmacist she assumed in her white coat, had appeared. She was older with hair like steel wool, and she did not look amused at having just had her lunch interrupted.
“Hi er bonjour, um could I have some antihistamine tablets for a wasp sting, please?” Kitty repeated.
The pharmacist looked at her blankly. “I do not understand.”
“Um.” Oh bugger it Kitty thought, casting a quick glance over her shoulder to check that the coast was still clear. “Bzzzz, Bzzzz, Bzzzz.” She flapped her hands for a moment and then pointed toward her bottom before pinching it. “Ow!” she yelped for effect.
The woman looked at her as though she were mad for a moment, and then as enlightenment dawned Kitty sighed with relief. It was the bloody worse game of charades ever, but at least she’d got a result. The pharmacist said something to her that went completely over her head as she came out from behind the counter. Scanning the shelves, her hand settled on a tube of ointment that she handed over to her with the self-satisfied smile of a job well done. Kitty snatched it from her gratefully, she’d wanted tablets but at this point she’d take what she could get then spying the label she frowned. It was for the treatment of haemorrhoids. Oh for goodness sake she thought, I don’t believe this. How could the silly woman have mistaken her impersonation of a bee for that of straining? “I don’t have piles.” She enunciated slowly and rather loudly as though raising her voice would help the woman understand what it was she wanted. “I have a wasp sting. I would like something to take down the swelling and stop the itching, please.”
She was met with a blank stare once more and she saw that the little girl who’d served her initially had reappeared to see what all the noise was about. Great, she had an audience. Well she’d better put on a performance then she decided, unzipping her jeans and dropping her pants low enough to show them the angry red area. “Look! See a wasp sting. Itchy!” She scratched at it angrily.
“Ah oui, oui ze bee sting!” The pharmacist clapped her hands and Kitty thought about taking a bow but decided she would settle for the packet of bloody pills the woman had grabbed off the shelf behind her, and was now proffering. At last she thought, so engrossed in checking the label to see that this time she had what she was after that she never heard the shop door open until it was too late. She swung round, pills in one hand, jeans held up in the other, piles ointment in pride of place on the counter. Christian, who had once more pushed his glasses up on his head, stared at the scene with a perplexed expression. She caught a fleeting glimpse of a dark-haired man behind him looking equally bemused.
“Erm Kitty ma belle, you are alright?
“Yes I am perfectly fine thank you, Christian. I won’t be a moment.” She knew her face was the same colour as her right buttock as she zipped herself back up quick smart, and went through the motions of paying for the tablets. Stuffing her credit card back in her purse, she snatched the paper bag off the Pharmacist, broke open the box inside and shovelled two pills down swallowing them dry. Then, with as much dignity as she could muster she walked from the shop leaving the two women to shake their heads and mutter on about ‘ze rude English woman’.
Christian sensing her mortification had, had the good grace to wait outside for her, and she spied him sitting on a nearby bench seat. He was in conversation with the same dark haired man she’d seen fleetingly in the pharmacy. Oh great she thought, another witness to her humiliation. As she approached, she took the opportunity to do a quick inventory. Hmm, his thick black hair was worn just a tad too long, swarthy skin, dark Celtic features, yes she had a fairly good idea as to who this man was. He had to be Michael’s nephew she concluded, assailed with a strong sense of already knowing this man. It was like an impossible deja vu she thought.
As though he had sensed her eyes on him the man swung his gaze toward her and stared back unflinchingly. Kitty’s step faltered as she registered his scowl and Christian seeing her standing there did not pick up on her reticence as he did the introductions. “Ah, Kitty look who I have found exploring this belle town. Kitty Sorenson may I introduce Jonny Donohue.”
“Er hi.” She held out her
hand and then dropped it taken aback by the naked dislike on his face as she realised he wasn’t going to accept it.
She barely registered his broad Irish accent only the words he spoke. “So you are the daughter of the woman who killed my uncle then.”
Chapter 10
Broken Irish is better than clever English – Irish Proverb
Kitty took a step backwards at Jonny’s words feeling as though she had just been slapped. Christian got to his feet as hastily as a man of his age could. His expression beneath his tan was aghast. “Jonny non! That is unfair. What happened it was an accident, you know this. The past is as they say histoire and ma chérie, Kitty, she is not responsible for it. Merci Kitty, I apologise for this.” He reached his hand out to rest on her arm in a gesture of comfort, and Kitty could feel the trembling of his fingers on her forearm as he looked to Jonny expectantly.
“Don’t apologise on my behalf.” He snarled, and Kitty took in the flashing glints of amber in his eyes. He was filled with a simmering fury, but then she realised if he blamed her mother for his uncle’s death he’d had his whole life with which to fuel it.
Taken aback by this stranger’s vehemence toward her, her gaze swung between the two men. Jonny glared back at her. His hands Kitty saw, were shoved into the pockets of his jeans, and his belligerent stance suggested he was not in the slightest bit repentant over what he had just said. His build was on the lean side but still he was intimidating. Christian was slowly shaking his head unsure how to diffuse the situation. It was at that moment a screech of burning rubber distracted all three of them as a small, bright yellow car swerved to a halt at the kerbside next to where they were standing.
It crossed Kitty’s mind that with the speed in which it had just veered into park alongside them it could have easily mounted the pavement and bowled all three of them over. Her mouth began to form the words ‘bloody French drivers’ just as the passenger window was wound down. To her complete shock a familiar voice called out her name in an English accent.
Her eyes widened, surely not? It couldn’t be, could it? She took a step toward the car before bending down to peer in the window knowing who it was even before she saw him. “Damien, what on earth are you doing here?” He grinned over at her looking very pleased with himself.
“I had to come Kitty. It didn’t sit right leaving you to come to a foreign country on your own to meet up with a bunch of complete strangers.” He pointed at the two flummoxed men staring at the car from the sidewalk. “I mean this whole photograph thing could have been a crock. I wanted to make sure everything was kosher because if anything ever happened to you I’d never forgive myself. I love you, you know that.” He fixed her with a look that made her insides go wobbly in a way she didn’t need. What she needed at this moment in time was to be strong.
“I got halfway home after I’d dropped you off this morning, but I couldn’t stop thinking about what you were doing and imagining every worst case scenario. I knew going home was pointless because I’d just be climbing the walls wondering what was going on, so I turned around and went back to the airport. I managed to get a cancellation seat on the next flight to Marseille and then I hired this car.” He tapped the sides of the steering wheel with both hands. “She’s not what I am used to driving that’s for sure, but it was all I could get at such short notice. The GPS is great though, and she got me here, so I can’t complain. Good things come in small packages.” He winked at her in a way that left no room for wondering whether or not he was talking about her.
Kitty did not crack a smile; she was still reeling from Jonny’s frosty reception and the fact that Damien was here. Part of her was relieved and grateful to see his familiar face when everything around her was so unfamiliar. The other part of her was angry that he had shown up here now when she had asked him just hours ago to give her some space. That was Damien all over though, if he wanted to do something he simply went ahead and did it, he’d never talked things through with her beforehand. She wished her body wouldn’t automatically react to his physical presence the way it did though. It would be much easier to deal with him if she hadn’t been feeling the tug of the good times they had shared together ever since their random meeting in Wigan yesterday.
For the moment though, her attention was drawn to the tiny Citroen he was squashed inside. It wasn’t his style she thought, noticing that his head nearly touched the ceiling. Her feet were beginning to ache in her heels, and she crouched down grateful to take the weight off them for a moment. Resting her hands on the car’s window sill she glanced over at the backseat where a large overnight bag was perched. He obviously planned on staying then she realised.
“This was my third circuit of the town and I was beginning to worry because I hadn’t thought what I’d do when I got here if I couldn’t find you.” He flicked her a slightly accusatory look. “You’ve changed your cell phone number and un-friended me on Facebook so I had no way of contacting you to tell you that I was here.”
The wobbly insides dissipated. She did not feel bad about the un-friending bit, she’d had to do that to stop herself from cyber stalking his account to see what he was up to every five minutes. She’d known the first time she’d typed in his name to eye his relationship status, and to see if he had posted any loved-up photos with the Bitch, that it was not a healthy thing to do. She knew too, that if she continued to check in on him like that she would make herself sick. So she had hit the button that would mean she’d no longer have access to his page with some degree of satisfaction and tried to put him out of her mind.
As for her cell phone well she’d biffed it at the bedroom wall the day she’d walked in on his tryst. She had decided a new number might help with her new life. Of course it hadn’t made the slightest difference. All that aside she didn’t know why he looked dejected, he had more than bloody deserved being erased from her life at the time. He had no right to look so wounded now. She was the one to whom the damage had been done, not him.
A spark of anger flared at his audacity in coming here and expecting her to look pleased about it. “Look, Damien, you have had a wasted journey because as you can see I am fine. Christian –” she gestured behind her, “is a lovely man and I am in safe hands.” She wasn’t so sure she was, not after the way Jonny had just spoken to her. He didn’t need to know that though. “I mean what did you think would happen when you got here behaving like a bloody Knight roaring up in his bumble bee version of a car? It doesn’t change what I said to you this morning about needing space to think, and what exactly are you planning on doing now that you know I am okay?” She promptly burst into tears.
“Aw, Kitty you’re obviously not fine. Come on, hop in and you can tell me what’s been going on.” He patted the passenger seat.
“I can’t.” She sniffed. “I’m on my way to the house where Christian is putting us up.” She glanced over to where the older man was standing looking perplexed. Spying Jonny’s glowering face, she was almost tempted to do what Damien was asking and ride off into the sunset with him.
He drummed the steering wheel in that impatient way of his she remembered only too well, and she took a deep breath. “Look its a long story but I have spent the last couple of hours talking to Christian about my mum, and he’s told me so much about her that I didn’t know. It’s all been a bit overwhelming, and then you go and show up like this, but I am okay. No, truly I am.” She said in response to his raised eyebrow deciding not to drop the sting she’d received to her bottom into the mix. “The thing is Mum gave Christian a journal she wrote for me just before she passed away. I’m hoping it’s about her life before my dad and for some reason she wanted Christian to be the one to give it to me here. So you see she wanted me to come and do this photo. I don’t know why it was important to her but unless I stay and do it, I never will.”
“Even still I think –”
“I’m staying Damien. You of all people know how long I have waited to find out who my mum once was, and I need to be on my own to do
it. Can you understand?”
Damien nodded slowly. “I get it of course I do. I’m just not happy about you going off with some strange old man who looks more like a pimp than a photographer, and what’s with all the rings?” As his eyes looked beyond Christian, Kitty flushed and hoped he hadn’t overheard the conversation. “And what’s with the other chap? He looks like he’d like to throw me into a boxing ring for a few rounds.”
She knew who would come off worst in that scenario. “Keep your voice down.” She lowered her voice. “That’s Jonny he’s the nephew of Mum’s old boyfriend, he’s going to be in the recreation photo with me tomorrow. Like I said it is a long story but from what Christian has told me I think he’s probably finding it hard being here in Uzes.” She heard Christian clear his throat eager to move on. “Look, why don’t I give you the address of the house I am staying in, and my mobile number, will that make you feel better?”
Damien shook his head. “No, I’ll come with you and once I’ve checked it all out, I promise I will leave you in peace.” She didn’t believe him, but she recognized the look on his face. She knew it meant that he wasn’t going to discuss it any further with her. A car horn sounded startling them both and irritation flickered over Damien’s smooth features. “Wait here for me until I can find a bloody park and I’ll walk with you to wherever it is you’re staying so somebody other than those two there, knows where you are.”
Kitty didn’t know what to do. All she wanted was to go somewhere where she could be alone with her mother’s journal. She didn’t want Damien here distracting her and yes alright his intentions had been good, but now she was torn as to what she should do. “Kitty?” She felt Christian’s hand on her shoulder and sensed the question behind the gesture.
She straightened smacking her head on the car frame, and hot tears prickled again. She rubbed at the sore spot before turning to face him. “I’m okay Christian it’s just been a huge day that’s all. He’s um.” Who exactly was Damien to her these days? Her ex-boyfriend who had cheated on her and had now decided he wanted them to put all that behind them and get back together. “Uh his name’s Damien, he’s a friend of mine from England. Do you mind waiting for a few minutes while he parks the car because he’d like to walk with us to see where it is we’ll be staying if that’s okay?”
The Traveller's Daughter Page 10
