The French Adventure

by Lucy Coleman

  ‘By law whatever is in the property belongs to your parents now.’

  This isn’t going to be easy and I can tell from his tone and expression that he, like Sam, can’t see the dilemma.

  ‘I understand. Do the initials ML mean anything to you?’

  Monsieur le Maire’s face doesn’t give anything away. He considers my question and takes a few moments to respond.

  ‘Such a sad story. Monsieur Waverley originally lived near London, I think. Madame Waverley was Thomas’ aunt and she had temporary custody of him. Her maiden name was Laurent. I do not know her late sister’s Christian name. When the boy suddenly appeared, some in the village were curious. It was my duty to see that all was well. The Waverleys showed me his passport. He was born in England, where he lived before coming here, and he was a British citizen. The boy was accepting of the arrangement. His mother had died the year before. The couple were very private, but the boy made friends with everyone. He was bilingual, so there was no barrier for him. When he was sixteen his father, he came one day and took him away. Soon after the Waverleys left and the house, it was let out for several years.’

  ‘Do you know if Thomas went back to the UK with his father? Madame Allard said he had a different surname.’

  Again, same pose and he’s considering his answer, looking at me with a frown creasing his brow.

  ‘Alors,’ he sighs. ‘Parker-Laurent. I don’t think the Waverleys made that common knowledge. The boy loved animals. He wrote to me once, about five years ago, from the École nationale vétérinaire de Toulouse. He asked about Madame Allard and whether she was still alive; he wanted me to let her know that he had achieved his ambition and that he hoped to come back to visit. When he left here with his father he went on to do a two year baccalauréat scientifique before he began his veterinary studies.’

  ‘So, he’s a vet and if he studied at Toulouse he may even be working in France now. I am so very grateful to you for trusting me with this information. It’s not my intention to pry; but if, as now seems likely, this could have been given to Thomas by his mother, I will try my best to track him down.’

  Monsieur le Maire nods his head and stands.

  ‘My wife she waits and so does the delicious gâteau she has made for us. Come.’

  *

  After dinner I retire early, keen to get my laptop set up in the bedroom. I want to start gathering ideas for Mum and Dad’s new-look branding. It will mean taking lots of new photos of the house and gardens, as the ones currently in use are already out of date.

  The first thing I do on my return is to Google Thomas Parker-Laurent, but all that comes up is a stream of entries relating to Thomas Parker, which seems to be quite a popular name. Searching for Thomas Laurent merely throws up pages of entries about a famous racing driver. Realising that I’m going to have to look elsewhere for clues, I check my inbox and my heart sinks when I see there is yet another email from Karl. I’m half tempted to delete it, but my finger hesitates for a second and I instinctively end up clicking on it. I recoil in horror as I begin reading.

  Dear Anna,

  I know you are angry but after a year of being together you owe me a chance to explain. All I’m asking is that you call me and listen to what I have to say. I can change; I will change. Please don’t make me fly over and turn up on your doorstep uninvited, because that’s what I’ll have to do if you keep ignoring me. And I know that will make you even angrier.

  Please give me one more chance, that’s all I’m asking.

  Karl x

  My jaw drops. What on earth would I do if I opened the door to find Karl standing there? I close my inbox with shaking fingers, as if simply reading the words will make him suddenly materialise. Now is not the time to be thinking about him. I don’t want to spend the night tossing and turning with Karl in my head as I need to be up early and ready for a full day’s work.

  Damn Karl. Why can’t he just leave me alone? Is this merely a fit of pique, wanting what he suddenly feels he can’t have? If that’s the case, then this is still all about him and nothing really to do with us. If there ever was an “us”. But this also sounds ominously like a threat and I don’t want my quiet life here disturbed in any way. I hear a rather lonely ‘meow’ as Ziggy jumps up onto the bed. Suddenly it’s easy to push all my worries away and the last thing I remember before falling asleep is stroking her back and the loudest purring I’ve ever heard.

  Sending a Message

  The next morning, I take my croissant and coffee up to my bedroom, on the pretext that I have a few promotional ideas I want to get typed up before I head out to the gîte. It’s partly true, but I know at some point Mum will sense something is worrying me and, right at this moment, I’m too angry to talk about it. I feel that Karl’s behaviour is a little threatening and I’m not happy that he’s trying to force his way back into my life.

  When I’m ready to start work I manage to slip downstairs unnoticed. I’m quite content to sit on the squishy old cushion, muttering away to myself under my breath. When Sam arrives he’s just as subdued and instead of our usual opening banter we simply exchange a brief ‘good morning’. It isn’t until lunch time that my mood lightens. I head into the kitchen to collect the sandwiches Mum prepared for us before Dad took her off to the Friday market. It makes me smile, as she’s left everything laid out on a tray covered in a white linen tea towel. I’m so lucky that they are both fit enough to enjoy this time in their lives. When many choose to begin slowing down, they seem to be speeding up. I simply can’t imagine how devastating it must be to lose your mother at a young age, as poor Thomas did. I make my way to the secret garden to join Sam, picturing a lonely young boy being handed the only link he has left to his mother.

  Sam takes the tray from me, places it on the table and then sits back in his chair with a low groan. I watch as he eases his shoulders back, stretching out his right arm and rotating his shoulder.

  ‘Muscular problems?’

  He grimaces.

  ‘Nothing serious. I need to get a new mattress really. There just doesn’t seem much point in spending money on the caravan, though.’

  I’m tempted to point out that he won’t be moving into the barn any time soon, but that would be stating the obvious. He’s such a nice guy but Mum is right and he does seem as if he’s lost his way when it comes to sorting out his life. And yet when he’s working, he’s focused and happy. Why didn’t he choose an easier project, something he could do up and sell on to make a profit? He’s a mystery, that’s for sure.

  ‘Your mum is a star. I did tell her she doesn’t have to feed me every day but she wouldn’t listen.’

  I uncover the plates and pass one to Sam.

  ‘You’ve been good to them. Do you miss working alongside your dad?’

  A third of Sam’s sandwich disappears in one bite and I wait patiently as he chews his way through the food.

  ‘In a way, as we work well together and I can do most of the labouring for him. There are a few guys he employs as and when he needs them on a job, but the language is sometimes a bit of a barrier. And he likes things done his way. He’s old school. He’d be horrified if he saw you working out there with a plastic knife and a tin lid. But when he sees the quality of your work, he’ll be impressed. I guess we all like to think there’s only one correct way to do something, when often that isn’t true at all. Anyway, the first gîte should be finished by the beginning of July and then that just leaves the second gîte before my work here is done. I made a promise to your parents and I intend to keep it. Are you still enjoying it, or is it turning into a bit of a nightmare? After all, you did say this was a working holiday and yet you don’t seem to be in a holiday mood, at all.’

  I guess my demeanour this morning warrants that comment.

  ‘I’m fine with it, really. I'm a workaholic by nature and I like to be busy. I had some bad news last night and it’s playing on my mind a little this morning.’

  Sam finishes off his first sandwich and s
its back, looking concerned and waiting for me to explain.

  ‘My ex is threatening to turn up on the doorstep.’

  His eyes narrow a little. ‘Is this some form of intimidation?’ His tone has changed and that laid back air of his has completely disappeared.

  I need to get myself out of this quickly.

  ‘No. It’s fine, really. I wasn’t implying that I’m scared, but… it’s over between us and he’s having difficulty accepting that. I can’t imagine for one moment that he would suddenly turn up, as he’s just been promoted. He wouldn’t be able to drop everything just like that, even if he wanted to. I’m sure it will all be fine. It was a bit of a shock when I read his email, that’s all.’

  ‘People say stupid things when a situation gets out of hand. Look, if you ever need someone to intervene on your behalf, you only need to say. I’m sure he’s an intelligent guy and it wouldn’t take much to make him see the error of his ways. Intimidating someone isn’t the answer to anything.’

  It’s a bit of a surprise to hear Sam taking this very seriously, considering he’s only known me for a few weeks.

  ‘Thank you, but I don’t need any help. I intend to spell it out to him today.’

  ‘I wasn’t trying to undermine your ability to handle this, Anna. Don’t think that for a moment, but sometimes it’s quicker and easier if a third party steps in. The offer stands; you only have to say if you need my help.’

  I feel uncomfortable and desperate to talk about other things. A sudden movement makes both of our heads turn and Ziggy skips down the path. Her cinnamon coloured coat sparkles with tips of gold as the sun catches it. Suddenly she jumps about a foot in the air, as if she’s been stung, but then bats her paws at a large bumble bee in front of her. She misses, thankfully, and immediately continues on her way as if nothing has happened, even though the hunter has lost her prey. Fleetingly, I wonder if that sums up the life of a cat. They don’t carry baggage around with them like humans tend to; dragging the failures in our lives around with us like badges of defeat is like wearing a millstone round our necks. Cats just accept that you can’t win every battle and move on. Diplomatically, I decide to change the subject.

  ‘Monsieur le Maire was very understanding yesterday.’

  Sam picks up another sandwich and looks at me with interest, his mood instantly changing.

  ‘He had some answers?’

  ‘Well, he was able to tell me that Thomas is now a qualified vet, having studied at Toulouse. His mother was French and his father lived in London. As Honorine mentioned, Thomas’ mother died before the boy was sent here. Monsieur le Maire confirmed that the Waverleys had custody of him. Yvette was his aunt. And he confirmed that Yvette’s maiden name was Laurent.

  ‘He said that people here were naturally a little suspicious when the boy turned up quite unexpectedly. He satisfied himself that everything was above board. He told me that the boy’s surname was actually Parker-Laurent as he had been shown his passport. It seemed the locals simply assumed his surname was Waverley. I wonder if his aunt wanted people to believe Thomas actually was their son? He didn’t know the mother’s Christian name, but it’s looking increasingly likely that the ML ties it back to her.’

  Sam nods, as he continues eating.

  ‘Thomas made contact about five years ago, after he’d qualified and he wrote to Monsieur Le Maire, asking him to pass on a message to Honorine. When she was talking about Thomas it was so touching to see that she felt such an attachment to him.’

  ‘It seems he settled into the village well, then.’

  I’m barely listening, reflecting on the fact that Laurent is quite a common name, though, so it isn’t going to be easy. Not knowing his mother’s Christian name is going to make the search a lot more difficult.

  ‘Hey,’ Sam interrupts my chain of thought, ‘Honorine said he was schooled at home. Do you want me to pop in and ask if she can remember the name of his teacher?’

  ‘What a good idea. I’d totally forgotten about that. Anyway, thanks Sam, that would be great if you don’t mind, as while Monsieur le Maire was helpful I felt there was information he didn’t feel at liberty to share.’

  ‘No problem. I’ll pop in after work. I’m going to start putting up the studding for the partitions next, so I won’t need your help until that’s done.’

  ‘I can’t imagine what it’s going to look like divided up into rooms. I quite like the sense of open space, even though I realise that would be impractical.’

  I watch as he puts his plate back on the tray and I notice how strong his hands are and yet there’s a gentleness to him. That’s partly why his reaction to what I said about Karl was so surprising.

  ‘In the barn I’m going to have the downstairs as open plan as possible. There will be a cloakroom on the ground floor, but the kitchen and living area will be one big space. On the first floor, there will be two bedrooms with en-suite bathrooms. Well, that’s the long term plan, anyway.’

  A moment of sadness washes over me. His dream is well beyond his reach in terms of both time and money at the moment. It’s too much for one person when he also has to earn a living. If he could afford to hire a digger, I’m sure those trenches he’s working on could be dug out in a weekend. That would really get his project moving forward. He gives me an ironic smile.

  ‘We need to get back to work.’

  ‘Yes, I’ll just take the tray up to the house and I’ll join you.’

  He heads off and I follow a few paces behind. The sun is hot overhead, but it’s partly cloudy today and there is a slight chill in the air when the sun fleetingly disappears. I wonder if Sam minds working inside at this time of the year because it’s much pleasanter outside when it’s cooler.

  None of the guests are around, so I slip into the kitchen and pop the tray down next to the sink. Turning on my heels, I hear a knock on the door and redirect my footsteps in the direction of the hallway. Surely Karl wouldn’t just—?

  ‘Bonjour! Des fleurs pour Mademoiselle Lacey?’

  ‘Oui, merci.’

  I reluctantly take the large bouquet of roses the woman is holding out to me, while trying my best to raise a pleasant smile. My mouth is suddenly very dry. I walk back into the kitchen, laying them down on the table so I can rip open the small, white envelope. It carries the logo of Erbray Eternelle, Fleuriste.

  You are in my thoughts, always. Please forgive me. Karl x

  I take a moment to pull myself together, then search around for some scissors. I chop the flowers up roughly, making a quick trip down to the composting pile. When I return to clear up the debris I rip the card into bits, dropping them in the bin on my way out to join Sam. Suddenly his offer of help doesn’t seem quite so unnecessary. If I was here alone today it would play on my mind about what I’d do if Karl turned up. I know that I can’t just continue to ignore this and before too long I’m going to have to talk to him.

  Realisation Dawns

  I can see that Mum isn’t happy that I’m trying to rush through dinner, but even though I disposed of the flowers I still feel unsettled. The sooner I’m head down, working on the laptop the better, as keeping busy is the only way to keep my thoughts at bay.

  ‘Darling, you really do need to learn to relax a little. You can’t spend every minute of your life working on something or other. It’s not healthy. I nearly forgot, Dad has a little something for you.’

  Dad has just walked into the room and he looks across at Mum, questioningly.

  ‘It’s Friday, Geoff.’

  Dad’s eyes light up. ‘Ah, yes. Pay day.’ He sifts through a pile of paperwork Mum left on the counter top earlier. ‘Here it is, your first pay cheque.’

  He walks towards me with two envelopes in his hand.

  ‘One for you and the other is for Sam. Are you seeing him over the weekend? Viv usually sorts this before he leaves for the day. I feel bad because we were back later than we planned and missed him.’

  ‘I wasn’t expecting to, but I could pop
in to see him tomorrow. He was going to call in to ask Honorine a question for me on his way home. I’d like to know if he discovered any more about Thomas so I can plan my next move.’

  ‘You’re not giving up on that, then?’ Judging by his tone, Dad thinks I’m wasting my time.

  ‘No.’ I tear open the envelope and then look up at Mum, then across at Dad. ‘I can’t take this, guys. I’m working here because I want to and I’m living free of charge. That’s payment enough.’

  ‘Now we don’t want you making a fuss, Anna: it won’t break the bank. If you weren’t helping Sam out then we’d be paying one of his builder friends. It’s a tax write-off and a legitimate business expense.’

  Mum has her serious head on and Dad nods in agreement.

  ‘It feels wrong. You have both done so much for me over the years and I like to think that finally I can do something in return. And I know things are still tight at the moment.’

  Mum takes the seat opposite me at the table and extends her hand to cover mine.

  ‘We love you so much, my darling, so please let us do this our way. We can see how hard you are working and that touches our hearts, because you understand that this is our dream. But eventually all of this will be yours.’

  A cold sensation hits the pit of my stomach.

  ‘Please don’t talk like that, Mum. It sends a shiver through me.’

  She smiles, her eyes full of love and pride. ‘I understand, but if you should decide to make this your home too, nothing would please us more. No pressure as we understand that this life might be a little too quiet for you. But it’s something we felt needed to be said, just in case.’

  ‘I can’t stay forever, Mum. I have big plans but one day, who knows?’

  We both know that I’m trying so very hard to be positive about the future because the reality is that I’m starting all over again. If I can’t make it work then knowing I can come back here is a comfort but we both realise that would mean my efforts had failed. Not that I’m undermining the wonderful job they’ve done in creating their new business here, but I need my independence.