Anne-Marie’s face was unreadable. She came closer and hugged me.
“You look a mess.”
“I know.”
I headed to the front door.
“I’m glad to see you too. We need to talk.” I said over my shoulder.
She followed me. Closing the door behind her, she said:
“I’m quite sure that we do. I’ll wait for you on the porch. Now go and freshen up.”
Halfway up the stairs I realised it had been quite a while since I had eaten.
“I’m hungry.”
Anne-Marie turned around and gave me one of her stern looks.
“No shit. Really?”
I’d never heard her speak like that before, at least not in my presence. I must have grimaced.
“Don’t worry. I have everything prepared. Have I ever let you down?”
A shower and some clean clothes soon made for a miraculous transformation and I looked and felt much better. Looking at the clock, I realised I had taken a good hour to freshen up and I wondered if Anne-Marie was still on the porch.
She was but, by the look on her face, I knew I hadn’t dressed in a way she would have approved of. I had my Tee shirt and torn short jeans on, with my indispensable espadrilles. But that wasn’t my problem.
It was just before ten, and she had a warm breakfast for me on the table. She looked at me and put down the book she was reading. I was still drying my hair with the towel, again a thing she didn’t quite approve of. She was like some kind of substitute mother. I wondered how Harry had found her.
“Sit.”
When I had done as I was told, she took a hairbrush from her bag and stepped behind me.
“What…?” I tried to protest, but she didn’t let me.
“Eat. I’ll take care of your hair.” I took the cover off the plate and sat down. The smell of fresh baked croissants and coffee filled my nostrils. I must have made an ‘mmm’ sound because she laughed.
“You missed my cooking, didn’t you?” She ran the brush through my hair. Still wet, droplets of water fell onto my Tee shirt making me shiver.
“Yes I did,” I answered.
“Don’t talk with your mouth full.” I should have been angry with her, but somehow I couldn’t be. She actually was a substitute for my mother whom I’d lost at such an early age.
Harry had taught me everything I knew and he had had a hard job of it. He’d had to take the place of both a missing father and mother. It had not been fair and yet he had done his best. I owed him everything.
We were silent until I had finished my breakfast. In the meantime she plaited my hair into a French braid from the top of my head to the tips of my hair.
“Now you look decent.”
I laughed.
“Depends on whose standards you’re judging it by,” I said. “I know I’ll never meet yours.”
She sat down and watched me, shrugging her shoulders.
“Perhaps in few years…” She let her words fly away. When we looked at each other again we were both serious. I knew I must explain; Harry would be here soon.
“You said we needed to talk. Is there something I need to know?” I started. I was really curious about what was going on with her and her husband.
“Nothing new,” she answered. “Only that I just lodged the application for a divorce this morning.”
“Are you alright?” I asked her.
“No, I’m not.” I was surprised by her words.
“I’m sorry. If there is anything I can do…” She raised her hand.
“No. You don’t understand. I’m not all right because I’m sick of worrying about you! You don’t come home from work. And Harry just said, ‘everything is ok and that it’s not clear when you will be back’.”
“I’m sorry. I’ve should have called you.”
“Yes you should have.” I knew she was angry with me. I looked over to the sea again, gathering my courage. The story I was about to tell her I had shared only with Harry. All the people in my past knew only parts of it. It was time for me to share it with someone else.
I sighed and looked at Anne-Marie again. She was waiting.
“A few days ago you said you would like to know my secrets,” I started slowly. She nodded.
“I think the time has come. I just hope you’ll believe me.”
She was silent. I looked at her again and sighed.
“Over six years ago I had been on a cooking course in Paris. At the end of the course I didn’t return to London because I met a man, who … well, I fell in love with. Hard. He was Spanish and, when he had asked me to go with him, I followed him to San Sebastian.”
“Just like that?” Anne-Marie asked. I nodded.
“Yes. We lived there together for almost six months and I was in heaven.”
“How old were you?”
“Barely nineteen. But that’s not important. What is important is that I got pregnant. No wonder. We didn’t really use protection…” I had a hard time to speak.
“And he left you?” Anne-Marie had figured it out on her own. I started to feel tears in my eyes.
“Well, yes. Actually, he vanished that night, leaving me alone in the apartment.”
“He left you alone in Spain?” Anne-Marie sat closer to me. I shrugged my shoulders.
“What did you do?” she asked.
“I returned to London and told my brother everything. Obviously, he was shocked but he hadn’t judged me. Instead he offered me all the help I needed.
After the birth of Iain, my son, we all moved from London to Paris. My brother opened an office there. He didn’t want to leave me alone in London, so we all went.
Everything was fine, until…”
All the memories and emotions hidden deep in my soul poured out. I hadn’t realised, but the tears were slipping down my cheeks and dripping onto my lap. Anne-Marie had kept silent through my explanation.
“Until what?” she said softly.
“My baby boy was stolen from me. On the Champs de Mars. Kidnapped. I’ve never seen him again…”
When I finally stopped talking, she asked:
“Who are you then?”
My cheeks were wet. Without a handkerchief, I wiped them with my bare hands.
“I’m sorry. As you can see, I’m still a mess.”
She waved her hand.
“Who are you?”
“She is Desiree Dame. My sister.”
I turned around as Harry strode around the side of the house. Anne-Marie was facing him. I tried to smile, although not very successfully.
“Are you alright?” he asked me, wrapping his arms around me. I nodded. His embrace gave me so much comfort.
“Now I remember the story from the papers, but I never connected you with the girl, as she was…”
“Yes, I was blonde and with short hair then.”
“Right,” she nodded.
I turned to face Harry:
“I needed to tell Anne-Marie.”
Harry smiled.
“It’s okay. She deserves the truth and I know she won’t say a word to anyone. Am I right?”
Anne-Marie nodded.
“Of course—you don’t need to doubt me. My lips are sealed, although…” Suddenly she went silent and turned red.
“What?” I sat down on the chair. Harry had sat on the swing. She shook her head.
“Forget it.”
Harry and I looked at each other.
“Tell us.”
She shook her head again.
“No. It’s too embarrassing for me.”
Harry started to laugh; I looked at him and back to Anne-Marie. It seemed like I was the only one without a clue.
“What?” I demanded.
“I bet she thought you were my ex-lover and that I’m paying the rent to buy you off.”
I looked back at Anne-Marie and she nodded.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
I started to laugh.
“Your last name confus
ed me.” She turned to Harry:
“When we were signing the house contract you said that she was Desiree Hart and she would be managing your perfumery in Monaco.”
“I’m sorry Anne-Marie. But back then we didn’t know who to trust,” Harry said. “After two years the French police closed the case as my nephew couldn’t be found. A day later, Desiree received a letter.
She recognised the handwriting to be Juan’s. In the letter it was clearly written that Iain was well and was being taken good care of, along with the ‘advice’ that Desiree forget about him as she would never find him. Her name and look was too recognisable
“That was also the day I decided that if I needed to change everything about me to find my son, I would. I hoped somehow Juan would become bolder if I vanished from the face of the earth. What we didn’t know was that Juan Bastidas never existed. And then, at that point, I promised myself I’d never fall in love again, until I found my son…”
“Did you go to the police?” Anne-Marie finally managed to ask.
“No, we didn’t. They closed the case, telling us that Iain probably was not alive anymore. They suggested we go on with our lives. Instead we hired private investigators. Until last Friday we’d only hit dead ends.”
For some time we were all silent. I pulled my legs up on the chair and hugged them with my arms, staring over the garden to the sea again.
“I hope this will stay between us—at least until we find my nephew?” Harry asked.
“Of course. I won’t tell anyone. What happened on Friday?”
I was silent. I didn’t want to answer that question as I didn’t want to build up my hopes.
“We think we finally got some real leads about his whereabouts—we hope,” Harry answered. I didn’t say anything. Anne-Marie stood up and looked at both of us.
“You know what? We need to eat.”
And she was gone.
Harry and I sat in silence for a while. I felt his eyes on me but I was unable to look at him.
“Where is she?” he asked me.
“In the kitchen,” I answered without looking at him. I didn’t want to see the pain in his brown eyes. “She’s preparing lunch. She’s French.”
Harry nodded and I stood up.
“I’m going for a walk,” I said and left him alone on the porch. Knowing Anne-Marie, I had a good hour to myself.
“Harry, tell me this is him!” I grabbed my brother’s arm. By the way he tried to get away from me, I realised I must have hurt him. I released my grip a little bit.
After our long trip to Budapest, Harry had tried to remain patient with me. By the expression on his face, I knew he was as surprised as I was.
Between two men, a blonde boy stood. I recognised one of the men from the papers and from the television. He was the owner of the Crest Racing team, Mr Crest himself. The men were talking so intensely that they didn’t see us standing behind the big truck, and yet we were only a few feet away.
My eyes at that point were focused solely on the boy. After so many years I was not sure if he was the one. I wanted Harry to be sure for both of us. I grabbed his hand again but he just shook me off.
When the man who had his back to us gave his hand to the boy, my heart fell into pieces. It was Lorcan and he was holding what I was convinced was my son’s hand. I almost stepped out from the truck, but Harry stepped in front of me and pushed me backwards.
“What the hell, Harry?” I hissed. “What is happening here?” He took my hand and led me out from our hiding place.
The place for the racing teams and their travelling buses and pavilions behind the paddock was full of people; members of the teams and different celebrity faces.
“Let’s go!” Harry hissed at me, but I didn’t move.
“Do I need to throw you over my shoulder or drag you out of here?”
We were staring at each other.
“I’m not moving! My son is there and I want…” I didn’t want to back down and I saw that he thought the same.
“Are you completely sure it’s Iain?” he asked and, before I managed to answer, Harry’s phone started to ring. Answering it, Harry tried to push me away from our hiding place.
Suddenly, Lorcan passed us hand-in-hand with the boy. I stepped forward, and felt Harry’s left hand on my shoulder. I watched Lorcan and the boy walking away. They were both so close and somehow I knew it was not wise for us to be seen there. I was only a few steps away and it was killing me.
When they were out of my sight, Harry took my hand and literally pushed me backwards away from where we were.
“When?” Harry spat out his words and I finally followed him without saying anything. My head was buzzing with a million thoughts.
“Alright. I’m coming.” He ended the call. He didn’t look at me but I knew who he’d been talking to. It was the private detective he had hired and who’d given him new leads.
“I’m coming with you,” I said, when we were back in the car. I noticed the driver checking up on us in the rear view mirror, but he was silent.
“No, you’re staying at the hotel. I don’t want you to make a scene. John’s instructions are clear. I must come alone.”
“In your dreams!” I remained firm. “I will not wait a minute more. I need to know. Is the boy we saw really Iain or not? If you will not take me with you, I will hunt down Shore myself and I won’t be responsible for my actions!”
Harry looked at me and he must have seen the determination in my eyes.
“Desiree … If I was sure the boy was the one … Do you know how much time has passed?”
“Five years, ten months, eighteen days, twenty-one hours and. If you need minutes and seconds … I can give them to you.”
He looked worried.
“Are you a hundred percent sure it was him?” Harry’s voice cracked. I felt the tears in my eyes again and when they spilled over my cheeks, I sobbed.
“No! I’m not!” I hid my face in my hands. Harry took me in his arms and soothed me.
“It’s alright Desiree. We’ll get to the bottom of this. I promise.” I was trying to calm down. The last few days had been heart breaking for me. I knew it was time for me to get my life back and gain some control.
“Right. You can come with me,” he finally said.
“Thank you.” It was unfair of me to load so much on his shoulders. As before, he was sorting out my mess. My past mistakes. For too long this had taken up so much of our lives.
An hour later we were sitting in a coffee shop waiting. I only realised I was drumming my fingers on the table when Harry put his hand over mine. We looked at each other and smiled in silence. I was not the only one who was nervous. Harry was already on his third coffee.
We were alone and waiting. I started to tear a paper napkin into pieces without realising what I was doing. I didn’t know what to expect.
Finally, the door opened and I saw him. He was a tall man, with dark brown hair. Although he looked like any other person in a casual shirt and jeans, I knew instantly what he did for a living. His walk seemed casual, but the way he was investigating the coffee shop and the people who were there gave him away.
He looked around and headed toward us. He sat down and faced Harry. He didn’t even offer me a glance.
“I said to come alone!”
“This is my sister. The boy’s mother.”
“Too many times people who are personally involved do something that endangers the search,” the man said angrily, and then he turned to me.
“I’m sorry. I’ve had too many bad experiences.”
“Where is my son?” I almost jumped to my feet, demanding the answer. Harry held onto my hand. The man looked at him with an ‘I told you so’ expression. He spoke firmly.
“Young lady, this must be clear. Until I’m more than one hundred percent sure that the boy is really your son, I will not tell you. Are we cle…?” I didn’t let him finish.
“I saw him today,” I almost shouted. “I think it was him
. Blonde hair…”
His face was stoic and unreadable. He silenced me merely by looking at me.
“Do you know how many blonde boys are out there in the world? Are you quite sure you would recognise your son after so many years? Remember, he was a baby when he was taken from you…” I felt his words like a slap in the face and I wanted to give him a real slap. Harry’s firm voice brought me back to reality.
“Behave!” he said. “James has a point here. Are you sure he is the one?”
I closed my mouth and bowed my head. Everything was slipping out of my control again. My hands were shaking.
“Does the boy have any unusual marks? Something that would confirm he is the one, like a birth mark, or something similar? Perhaps some scar?”
I took my purse out of my handbag. I knew I had to give away the only thing that I had left of him. His only true picture. My fingers gently traced his smiling face. I put the photo on the table.
The expression on the detective’s face was blank, yet I felt his disappointment. At six months Iain was just another baby, the kind he saw almost every day, but beautiful to his mother. He didn’t say anything and even Harry was silent.
“I need to know just one thing. Is it just coincidence that we’re here? I mean, here, at another Formula 1 race?”
His silence told me more than a thousand words.
Friday’s free practice was a nightmare for me. Harry has got us Paddock Club tickets and I was only a few yards away from everything, yet I was unable to get any new information. Harry didn’t want to tell me what he and Lorcan were talking about back in Monaco.
“Men’s business.”
Men’s business, my arse! Although Harry usually didn’t keep secrets from me, this time he remained silent. He didn’t tell me anything and that made me angry whenever I thought about their meeting. Being in Budapest at the Hungaroring meant that I was constantly reminded of this.
We arrived after the free practice had already started and left before it ended. It was soon clear to me that Harry didn’t want me to meet anyone. I think he had soon realised that my emotions were ready to explode.
I was so close, yet so far. The uncertainty was killing me. I couldn’t do anything. If the boy was not the right one, I could cause a big scandal and that might take me even farther away from finding him. Although I wanted to, Harry made me see sense when we were in the car.
All That the Heart Desires Page 11
