by Lucy Coleman
One look at the strained pallor on Elliot’s face and my heart plummets. ‘What’s happened?’
‘It’s Mia. She’s just been rushed to hospital in an ambulance. They don’t know what’s wrong yet, but she’s having difficulty breathing. I’m just online trying to arrange a flight as the drive will take too long. Look, I have to go, Lexie, and I’m sorry. Ronan says he’ll step in for me but at the moment I can’t think past getting home as quickly as I can.’ His voice is distraught.
I throw my arms around his shoulders and he allows me to hug him as if that’s exactly what he needs. I hold him for a few moments until I feel him relax a little and then draw back.
‘Just go. Head off and pack your things. I’ll get you a flight and text you the details. Go. GO! If you need a lift to the airport, let me know and we’ll sort it.’
He shakes his head as if in disbelief at what is happening. The look that he gives me in that instant is one of real fear, before he turns and strides away.
Back inside the restaurant all three of us get on our phones and twenty minutes later the flight is booked. Ronan arranges for a friend of his to pick Elliot up and take him to the airport. We’re all in shock and my hands are trembling; I know there is nothing else I can do.
The restaurant staff are amazing when it’s clear that we are dealing with some sort of emergency. They haven’t disturbed us, even though we’re the last people still at lunch, until a waiter appears bearing a tray of coffees.
It’s hard to relax, even though the immediate panic is over, and we’re all wondering what Elliot is going to find on his arrival at the hospital. It’s going to be an agonising trip back for him, for sure.
‘You never know what’s just around the corner, do you?’ Cameron remarks, pensively. ‘I mean, one minute everything is fine and the next—’
The cold feeling in the pit of my stomach doesn’t warm, despite the coffee. I suppress a shudder.
‘I’ve been worried about Elliot, but I didn’t realise Mia was suffering quite as badly as she must have been. He seems to have turned the corner, but I know it’s very easy for these viruses to turn into pneumonia.’
I can feel two sets of eyes on me and when I look from one to the other, they share the same miserable look.
‘She’s his world,’ Cameron declares.
The silence around the table is heavy and we continue to sip our coffees, feeling a sense of disbelief and confusion.
‘So, what happens next?’ Cameron asks. ‘I mean, everything is all set up. This is costing you guys a lot of money and the last thing Elliot needs to add to his worries is the thought that this project will grind to a halt.’
I was thinking the same thing and I straighten in my seat, then lean in purposefully.
‘If we push back the schedule we’ll run out of time. I need to be back in the UK by the fourth of June, because I have a contractual commitment I have to honour. Ronan, the fact that Elliot rang you tells me he wants us to carry on and get it done. How on earth we are going to do that, I don’t know. You can’t be both interpreter and cameraman.’
Ronan drains his coffee cup then sits forward in his seat, looking at me resolutely.
‘I’ll find someone to step in for me, don’t worry. I’ve never filmed with a Sony PMW-F55 CineAlta before, but I’m sure I’ll pick it up quickly. The fact he’d trust me with his prize possession is a big deal. I might be a bit rusty to begin with, but my father taught me well. Do you think we can do this?’
I glance at Cameron, who thrusts his hand into the centre of the table, and I follow suit. Ronan’s face relaxes into a smile as we do a triangular fist pump.
‘One for all, and all for one!’ I declare. ‘Failure isn’t an option. We know what our job is, and Elliot’s job is to be there by Mia’s side and see her through this.’
God willing.
‘Well, that’s a stroke of luck,’ Ronan says as he pulls up parallel to the boulangerie, giving way to the car with the blinking indicator.
My phone pings, and I jump, dropping it on the floor and having to scrabble around for it rather inelegantly. With nerves still on edge, I’m feeling a little frayed. As Ronan switches off the engine, he turns to look at me anxiously.
‘It’s Elliot. He’s at the airport,’ I confirm. ‘Mia has been admitted and will be undergoing some tests. In the meantime, she’s on a drip to rehydrate her and is on oxygen to help her breathe more easily. He says he’ll be in touch as soon as he can to let us know what’s happening in the longer term.’
‘Poor guy. It’s everyone’s worst nightmare, isn’t it?’
Ronan can see I’m reeling and he leans in to give me a brief hug, before fetching my backpack from the boot. He insists on carrying it for me.
‘I feel bad. We’ve pulled you away from whatever you were doing. It’s so good of you to say you’ll drop everything to step in for Elliot.’
Now this is all beginning to sink in, I’m conscious that I’m going to have to really squeeze the budget to accommodate a cost we never envisioned having to cover. Short-term I can use the contingency fund, but it won’t last very long at the going rate for a cameraman.
‘It’s fine. Actually, when he rang, I was driving back home after visiting George.’
We walk and talk, weaving in and out of the shoppers as we make for the gates. Stopping to punch in the code, I frown.
‘George?’
‘George Sanders. I told you I was going to speak to him about your grandma.’
‘The gardener from the sixties? You didn’t mention his name. I’m just surprised he’s English.’
‘Oh, sorry, I didn’t realise. His wife was French, but she died many years ago. He’s been on his own a long time. Ironically, language isn’t an issue in this case, but George puts up his own barriers.’
I look at him questioningly and he raises his eyebrows. ‘That’s another long story,’ he adds.
‘Now I’m curious. Do you need to get off, or do you have time to come in for a while? I was going to ask for your assistance, actually.’
As our eyes meet, I can’t help noticing that his lips are twitching as he tries to hold back a little smile. There’s more than a hint of amusement in those hazel-green eyes of his and my stomach does an involuntary flip as I struggle to remain cool and collected.
‘I’m all yours,’ he declares boldly. Is that an innuendo? I stifle a groan. It’s never as simple as just giving into your most basic of desires, is it? If there’s one thing experience has taught me it’s to be careful who you encourage, especially when it’s a colleague.
‘My work is in the doldrums at the moment and I hate it when the research comes to a grinding halt. The upside is that I’m available.’
Maybe he’s just fooling around to make me laugh, but his banter is hard to resist.
As we swing the gates closed and turn to walk across the courtyard, my mood has lightened considerably. I feel easy in Ronan’s company; everything is rather effortless, as if he’s an old friend. An interesting, charming and rather good-looking friend, at that. My stomach does another little involuntary flip and I’m suddenly very conscious of how near we are to each other.
Am I going to keep on kidding myself that I can control this undeniable attraction I feel? Calm down, Lexie, my inner voice is yelling at me. It’s time to use your head and not give in to… well, it would be foolhardy to throw all caution to the wind with someone you’re employing.
Putting the key in the door, I move inside so that there’s room for Ronan to join me.
‘If I lived here, I’d convert the garage and the storage space that runs through to the rear of the ground floor,’ I say, thinking out loud. ‘I’ve been inside number one and that’s what they’ve done with it.’
Ronan looks up at me. ‘Goodness, you’ve only been here for a bit and already you can imagine living here.’
‘Yeah… but, sadly, that’s just in my dreams. My latest contract is what is going to pay the bills for the next
year.’ I laugh, gazing down at him from my vantage point three steps higher.
Judging by the heat I can feel slowly rising up into my cheeks, I’m beginning to look a little flushed. ‘And both Elliot and I are well aware that it could take at least six months to complete this project before we see any return. So, we decided to be realistic about it and have more work lined up. If this pays off, then it could change our careers; if it doesn’t, then at least we gave it a go, but we won’t be completely broke.’
‘Oh,’ he replies, sounding just the teensiest bit disappointed as he follows me upstairs. But it’s best to make my position clear.
I dump my bag on the floor and walk over to throw open the windows to let in some air. It’s stuffy as the heat has built up during the day, but a little breeze is enough to bring some instant relief. With the sun sideways on to the building it’s the best of both worlds. Light, bright but not in our eyes.
‘It is a lovely cottage,’ he comments, turning to glance at me. ‘And a pity.’
Pity? That I can’t stay?
I can’t resist gauging his reaction, but when he doesn’t elaborate, I jump straight in to change the subject.
‘I’m curious about George. Tell me more.’ I indicate for Ronan to take a seat.
He flops down on the sofa opposite me, extending his legs to the side of the coffee table and crossing his feet at the ankles. I like the fact that he seems to feel so comfortable here.
‘Oh, where to begin? Well, he’s not an easy guy to talk to at the best of times. He gets a little cranky sometimes and he’s quite opinionated. That’s fine, because he’s seen and done a lot in his time but, being in his seventies, what really rankles with him is the quality of life that was snatched away at the peak of his career.’
‘Car crash, wasn’t it?’
‘Yes. The brakes on a lorry failed and ploughed into several cars. George’s right leg was shattered. They reconstructed it using plates, screws and even a bone graft, using a piece of his rib. At least they saved his leg, but he can’t bend his knee more than an inch or two and he’s had to learn to live with the constant pain.’
‘That’s horrible, Ronan. The poor man.’
‘After months of recovery and rigorous physiotherapy he was able to get around with just the one stick. He received a good payout, but money doesn’t mean a lot when in a split second your whole life is turned upside down. George was a very active man who spent most of his life out in the open. He became reclusive for a while and wouldn’t let any of his colleagues visit him. His version of events is slightly different. Whether the pain, or the drugs he was on at the time, affected his memory, I don’t know, but his story is that people simply forgot about him.’
‘How sad if he believes that and it wasn’t actually the case. So how did you get to meet him? Didn’t this happen quite a long time ago?’
I sprawl out on the sofa opposite Ronan, happy to put up my feet at long last.
‘Nineteen years ago. Most of this I gleaned from my interviews with Maurice Perrin. George was one of the trainees Maurice employed back in the early sixties. He was the person who put me in touch with him in the first place, as he felt George could fill in some of the gaps in my research.’
There’s something in Ronan’s tone that tells me George hasn’t been too forthcoming.
‘George doesn’t like talking?’
‘It’s not that – it’s personal. At first, I think he was grateful for the company and it was clear he enjoyed talking to me about old times. Then, when I told him I was Fabien Arnoult’s grandson, he ordered me out of his house. You see, in all the time they worked together in the same team, they were never the best of friends.
‘It was another eighteen months before we spoke again, very briefly at Maurice’s funeral. I think it began to dawn on George that with every passing year more of the details about life as a gardener in times gone by is lost forever. Like it or not, he had a role in that past and I could write him out of my account, or he could give his version of events and have it on record once and for all.’
‘So, he did start talking to you again, then?’
‘Unfortunately, no. He said he would when he was ready, and I’ve been patiently waiting ever since. But I decided to visit him to ask if he remembered your grandma and he said he’d like to meet you. Thanks to you, it looks like he might be ready to share a little of what he knows.’
Perhaps it’s time to ask the question that’s been floating around in my head since the day I stood at the sink in Ronan’s kitchen; the moment when he admitted that Versailles had been the centre of his grandfather’s world. So important, that his wife was torn away from the network of her large Irish family without him seemingly realising what she was giving up for him.
It reminds me in a way of my grandma. Selfless women without whose support I wonder how well the men would have fared if they hadn’t been in their lives. They gave up so much, but then it was that way for many women of that era.
The way we live our lives now is more conducive to allowing each other the freedom to enjoy both family and career. Or maybe the burden, in some cases, when husbands and wives end up stressed, trying to juggle too many things at the same time in order to achieve their goals. My fear is that something is lost in a world where people are so judgemental of each other.
‘You’re deep in thought.’ Ronan peers across at me.
‘Our grandmothers gave up a lot to support their men, didn’t they?’
‘I guess by today’s standards they did, but life was much simpler then, or maybe the truth is that it was more basic. Less expensive technology and a make-do ethos. Household chores took a lot longer and everything had to be cooked from scratch. Besides, women were traditionally the backbone of family life and if they worked, they often ended up doing jobs simply to bring in some extra money, rather than following a career path. The sixties were an exciting time for young people. Change invariably brings new opportunities and for some a new sense of freedom that was exhilarating and empowering.’
I don’t think I ever looked at it in quite that way, but that was exactly what Grandma Viv was trying to get across to us when we were young.
‘My grandma always said that we should follow our dreams because we wanted to, not because we felt we had to. I never really understood what she meant by that. Maybe she was alluding to her own situation. Yes, she could have had a fulfilling career while raising her family and supporting her husband. But what strain would that have put on everyone and everything? She managed to keep the grand passion alive, fawned over her family and was everyone’s rock, while ensuring nothing held Granddad back. His success was also hers.’
Ronan’s expression is one of acknowledgement of a sacrifice borne out of love and I find that endearing.
‘In those days when a woman with children was interviewed for a job, she would have been asked what childcare arrangements she had in place if they were sick. And no allowance was made to accommodate taking leave, only in the school holidays. It was tough for women with children then. I know, because I saw first-hand what my mother had to endure just to keep her two jobs going. Fortunately, my aunt usually stepped in to look after me, but there were times when she wasn’t available, and my mother had no option but to ring in pretending she was sick. Every time she did that, she risked losing her job if it had been discovered.’
I shake my head in dismay. Swinging my legs off the sofa, I pull open the drawer of the coffee table and reach inside to pull out the box. Ronan looks at me, frowning.
‘I think before we go to see George, we need to make a start on this. Would you help me? There’s no one else I’d feel comfortable sharing this with, to be honest, as I have no idea what I’m going to find. If it’s a chronological record of the work she did, then maybe that could prove helpful to you in your research. But if it’s too personal, then it might have to stay buried forever. I know that’s a lot to ask, but that’s how it has to be.’
He sits forward eagerl
y.
‘Agreed.’
As I lift off the lid, we both incline our heads to peer inside.
‘How many notebooks are there?’ he asks.
I quickly count them. ‘Fifteen. And this little bundle of documents.’ I hold up a small wad of neatly folded papers; some of them appear to be cuttings from gardening journals, but some of the papers are handwritten.
Pulling out the first two notebooks, I hand one to Ronan and he carefully opens the cover.
‘It says, “My year of discovery begins. Treasures don’t always sparkle; some are covered in mud.” Wow – that’s a statement to make.’
Our eyes meet and I nod, swallowing hard. Placing my hand on the cover, I pause for a moment, but Ronan is already eagerly leafing through the pages.
‘I’d say it’s a diary of the work she was involved in while she was here. Maybe she intended to share these with someone if she’d lived longer. Perhaps it had to be the right someone,’ he continues.
Goosebumps run up and down my arms, as we both settle back to begin reading.
11
Silence Is Golden
As the evening progresses, it soon becomes clear that it’s going to be necessary to make notes in order to keep track of, and share, relevant information we glean. Grandma Viv’s handwriting is small and the notebook I’m reading contains many drawings of flowers with detailed descriptions, but interspersed, and often without a date, are little snippets of her daily interactions.
I stop only to throw together some small baguettes with ham and cheese, while Ronan makes drinks. There is a further text from Elliot just before eleven p.m. saying that Mia is sleeping, and they will know more in the morning.
When Ronan leaves, we hardly speak, just exchanging a very genuine hug as we are both so exhausted. We agree to pick it back up tomorrow night and he stoops to kiss my cheek softly before he leaves. It’s different. Personal. Meaningful. We are delving into someone’s life and I guess he’s used to that, given the nature of the work he’s doing, but I can also see that he’s fascinated by some of what he’s read. It seems that our shared interest is cementing the connection between us and there’s no denying that.
