A Springtime to Remember

by Lucy Coleman

  Shutting the door behind him, I lean back against it deep in thought, until I suddenly remember that I’d promised to ring Mum. I immediately climb the stairs two at a time to go and text her, feeling like the worst daughter in the world.

  ✉︎ Sorry, Mum, ended up being a late one. I’ll ring you in the morning – promise. Sleep well! x

  I ring Mum during breakfast because there’s so much to do today and I must head up to the palace first thing to see Solange. In between mouthfuls of fresh croissant, I pass on Elliot’s update and she says to let him know she is thinking of them both. Then I explain why I didn’t call her last night. As soon as I mention that I’ve made a start on Grandma Viv’s notebooks she doesn’t make any attempt to acknowledge that and the line goes ominously silent.

  ‘I’d better go. Today promises to be a hectic one. Take care, Mum. I miss you and I’ll be in touch very soon.’

  ‘I hope it goes well for you, Lexie. I’m proud of you, honey.’

  There’s a hint of loneliness in her voice and I know just how much she’s missing me.

  I find it hard to shake off thoughts of her and, even though it’s a beautiful morning and the walk is very pleasant, my heart is heavy. After such a good start, everything was looking so promising, but now all we can do is plough forward as best we can.

  Solange isn’t in her office and I wait rather anxiously while someone pages her.

  ‘Problems?’ she enquires as soon as she appears, inviting me to take a seat.

  ‘Yes. I’m afraid Elliot has had to return to the UK. His girlfriend was rushed into hospital yesterday and he’s with her now.’

  Her face drops. ‘Oh, Lexie. I am so very sorry to hear that. What a terrible worry for him. Will she be okay?’

  I’m trying to remain positive, but I can’t hide my concern. ‘His latest text says she’s very poorly. Something to do with the lining of her lungs. They are still waiting for some test results to come back but she’s in good hands.’

  She sighs. ‘Such awful news. Hopefully she will respond quickly to treatment. The National Health Service is good, I believe?’

  ‘Yes. We’re very lucky in that respect but Elliot will want to be by her side until she’s well enough to go home. The reason I wanted to speak to you was to let you know that Ronan will be stepping in for Elliot. I’m awaiting confirmation of who will interpret for us in his place. If he can’t find someone who can step in for tomorrow’s interview, then we might have to postpone it, or see if we can swap interviewees. I don’t know if that’s possible, as I realise this one was scheduled for a Saturday because of problems with availability.’

  Solange frowns, then nods her head. ‘Leave it with me. No one could have predicted this would happen. I will ring you later to let you know what is happening. Maybe by then you will have found someone to step in for Ronan and I can get a security pass sorted. When you speak to Elliot next, please do express my sincere hope that his girlfriend recovers very quickly.’

  As I rise up out of my seat Solange gives me an encouraging smile.

  ‘I will walk out with you. There’s a press meeting taking place shortly and I’m making a presentation about a new exhibition we are putting on in the autumn.’

  ‘It’s a busy time for you and I’m sorry to add to your workload, but your help is really appreciated.’

  ‘It’s fine. This is why I’m here, to help smooth things along. But, yes, it is a busy time and there is always something new happening to keep those visitors coming back. Did Ronan have any luck with George?’ Solange asks as we make our way down the marble staircase and out into the open.

  ‘He did. We are going to see him, but I’m not sure when.’

  She seems pleased.

  ‘That is great news. I hope that you can help each other.’ I raise an eyebrow questioningly.

  ‘Ronan is a good man. I think you two have many things in common,’ she adds. ‘He is stuck at the moment, and it frustrates him. I’m glad he was able to step in and help you both personally and professionally. Aside from getting some answers, I think you two will make very good friends.’

  ‘You know, Solange, I think so too.’

  We exchange a brief knowing glance before heading out in opposite directions. I wonder what exactly Ronan has said to her about me. Whatever it is, she’s decided we need to be encouraged. I guess the days of plotting at Versailles aren’t over…

  ‘Hang on a moment, Shellie, there’s someone at the front door.’

  I run down the stairs to let Ronan in.

  ‘Hi, sorry, I’m on the phone with my sister – come up and get yourself settled. I’ll make it quick.’

  I race back up and take my phone off hold.

  ‘Right, I’m back. You were saying?’

  Shellie sounds a little anxious

  ‘There’s something going on with Mum, Lexie. She was fine last night and said she’d come round to take Maisie to school this morning, as I had a doctor’s appointment first thing and it would be tight. Just routine, nothing special, but the sickness slows me down a bit. She rang just before eight a.m. to say she had woken up with a bad head and was going to have to take some tablets and go back to bed.’

  ‘Oh. That’s odd. I spoke to her myself shortly before seven this morning and she was fine then. But headaches are like that – they just come on, don’t they?’

  ‘The thing is, she didn’t sound unwell, she sounded unsettled – enough to tell a fib. Something has happened and she didn’t feel she could share it.’

  ‘Really? Mum? I mean, she loves taking Maisie to school and she would know that Maisie would be disappointed, aside from the fact it put you in a bit of a spot.’

  ‘Precisely. That’s why I found it rather odd. I don’t know whether I should pop in to check on her.’

  I feel a little uneasy.

  ‘I did mention that I’d made a start on Grandma Viv’s notebooks. She didn’t say anything, but she did go quiet. Maybe after she put the phone down it set her thinking. You know, going over old times. I didn’t mean to upset her, obviously, and I feel bad if that’s it. I’ll be more careful in future. Sorry, Shellie.’

  There’s a brief pause. ‘I suppose that could account for it. Yep. That could have been it. I’ll give her a call a little later, then. So, did the notebooks throw up anything you can share?’ Now she sounds curious.

  I don’t want to admit that Ronan is helping me. I’m not sure what Shellie would think about that as to her he’s basically still a stranger. ‘I’ve only just started reading them and all I can say so far is that Grandma was quite the artist. Her drawings of various plants and flowers are incredibly detailed and lifelike. I think it’s going to be a baptism into the world of the green-fingered,’ I muse, and she laughs.

  ‘Well, when you get back you can come and apply your newly acquired knowledge to my garden. This morning sickness is now extending throughout the entire day. It’s a sign of a good pregnancy, I’m told, but it’s such a drag.’

  ‘Look, I have to go, but ring if you find out what’s going on with Mum at any time, okay?’

  ‘Will do. Miss you, sis, and take care!’

  Ronan has taken a seat on the sofa and is making notes in an A4 book. He looks up the moment I switch off my phone.

  ‘Not problems at home, I hope?’ His enquiry is tinged with concern.

  ‘I don’t think so. I told my mum I’d made a start on the box and think it probably brought back some memories. We all get days where the loss of someone weighs particularly heavily on our hearts, no matter how many years have elapsed.’

  I finish speaking and realise that I’m welling up. Ronan jumps to his feet and approaches, placing his arms very gently around me.

  ‘Hey. Everything I read last night was written by a lady who had a real zest for life. Many people don’t realise how important it is to savour each and every day; to appreciate all of life’s experiences, the good and the bad. From what I can tell, your grandma lived her life to the full and
that’s something to be celebrated. She passed that vibrancy, that… determination, on to her daughter and her grandchildren. Of course, she’s missed, and that’s fine. Sadness isn’t always a bad thing, though, you know.’

  I swipe away at a solitary tear that is beginning to slither down my cheek. Ronan hugs me to him for a moment and then relaxes his grip.

  ‘Come on. Let’s swap notes,’ he says, his smile full of encouragement. ‘And I have some news. George left a voice message on my phone. It seems he’s very impatient to meet you. So, we need to set a date.’

  ‘Oh, I nearly forgot,’ I reply, making a concerted effort to contain my emotions. ‘Come and see what I found amongst that little wedge of loose papers tucked into the box.’

  I reach in to grab the bundle, slipping the item from behind the pale cream lace tied around it. ‘This is her. On the back she’s written “summer 1961”. Look at the background.’

  Ronan takes the faded colour photograph from my hand and stares at it, almost in disbelief. ‘It’s the Orangery. Or, at least, a close-up of one of the glass panels.’

  ‘She looks so young wearing capri pants and a striped cotton shirt, wrapped around at the waist and fastened with a bow.’ I can’t help sounding a little bemused. ‘She does look amazing, but it’s sort of shocking – she so reminds me of Olivia Newton-John in Grease. I only ever remember Grandma as being rather reserved when it came to clothes. She always looked smart, but in that picture, well, she looks a bit like a model.’

  I can see Ronan agrees. ‘You have her smile. She smiles from her eyes like you.’

  ‘Do I?’

  He hands it back. ‘Did you only find the one?’

  I nod. ‘Sadly, yes. Oh, we have loads of photos at home, but none taken at Versailles or even around that time, as far as I’m aware.’

  ‘Then it wasn’t taken by a camera she owned, because films usually came in twelve, twenty-four, or thirty-six exposures I think, although don’t quote me on that. Unless she threw the rest away, of course. That’s great though, because it’s something with which to jog George’s memory. Given his reaction, I’d say he recalls the name but being able to put a face to it is something else entirely. It’s a great start. So, what else did you discover?’

  We settle ourselves down on opposite sides of the coffee table so we can have our notes in front of us. I’m impressed that Ronan has now transferred his into a hard-backed notebook and I shuffle the couple of sheets of paper with my own notes scrawled over them.

  ‘Well, she wasn’t big on using people’s names, which is a shame. Or specific dates. I’d say it was spring 1962, because most of what I’ve read so far is about cuttings and propagation. There are lots of detailed little drawings and technical information. The Latin names for the plants, habitat, soil type – that sort of thing.’

  Ronan shrugs. ‘Hmm. That’s a shame. As the title page indicated, the one I’m reading records her first days here. It’s the sort of record you would expect from a student with nothing really personal in it. Mostly observations and the same as you’re finding, really. Lots of notes about trees, so that’s possibly something we can ask George about, if it turns out that he remembers meeting her. It’s a pity her handwriting is so small, but then these little books would fit neatly into a pocket, so it’s understandable.’

  I don’t know whether to be glad these aren’t diaries, or sad about that.

  ‘Well, hopefully we can piece together what she did while she was here, and George might be able to add to that. What I’d love is to be able to write a little piece and get it printed up, so I can give a copy to some family members. A little record of Grandma Viv’s life here at Versailles on a timeline. I know in the grand scheme of things she’s not really a part of the story when it comes to your research, but for our family it’s something I don’t think we should lose sight of. Can you understand that?’

  ‘Of course. How many families can say they have a connection to the Palace of Versailles? It’s a part of the history of your family. Who knows? A future generation may well discover they have inherited her green fingers and be curious where that trait came from. I think I can get through the remainder of this one in about an hour, allowing me to add to my notes. I only recognise two of the names she’s mentioned in passing so far, but I’m keeping a list. Some of them will have been students, of course. As she settled in, I’m hoping we’ll learn something more about the permanent staff she worked alongside. How about you?’

  I give him a wry smile. ‘If I have a glass of wine to aid my relaxation, I’d say that’s doable. Then I’ll pop something in the oven, and we can relax over dinner.’

  Pushing the box to one side, I lean back and put up my feet; it’s fascinating and the attention to detail in her little drawings makes me think I should take copies and frame some of them. Suddenly the chime of the doorbell breaks the silence. Ronan doesn’t look up as I head downstairs.

  When I ease back the door the first thing I see is a large plant and, standing behind it, holding it out to me, is my lovely neighbour.

  ‘Renée! Bonsoir.’

  ‘Bonsoir, Lexie. Merci de votre aide.’

  I take the plant from her, with a look of delight, and she does a hand gesture like turning a tap, which makes me laugh.

  ‘Ah. Merci bien. It’s fine! Is it good now?’

  It takes a few minutes, a babble of French, some shared laughter and a few more hand signals, but I think I understand. It sounds like she has a replacement tap and a new stopcock, as well.

  ‘Good,’ she confirms, finally, nodding and smiling.

  ‘Merci bien,’ I reply, gazing at the beautiful plant filling my arms.

  ‘Je vous en prie,’ she says as she turns and walks back across the courtyard. It’s not much of a conversation but she’s happy enough and it makes me smile.

  When I return upstairs Ronan does a double take.

  ‘Nice plant. What is it?’

  ‘I think it’s some sort of fern. Lovely minty-green colour, isn’t it?’

  But he doesn’t respond; his head is once more bent over as he squints a little to focus on the written page before him. I take the plant over to stand it in the sink, adding a little water and leaving it to drain. Suddenly, Ronan calls out rather excitedly.

  ‘There’s an address written in the back of this one. It might be the place where she was staying. Result!’

  I close my eyes for a moment, hoping that is in fact the case. Imagine being able to bring Mum to France for a holiday to retrace the steps of her mother. To be able to let her know that Grandma was happy here and it was a year of fulfilment, full only of happy memories, would mean so much to me.

  ‘Well, if you’ve finished, and as I still have a good few pages to go, would you like to rustle something up for dinner?’

  Ronan stands, walking towards me with the biggest grin on his face. ‘I knew you secretly admired my culinary skills. Let’s see what I can do to impress you tonight. You have half an hour tops, so get out of the kitchen and get reading.’

  I’m beginning to see a very different side of Ronan emerge. Stretching out on the sofa, notebook in front of me, I face the other end of the room so I can surreptitiously observe him. He scratches his head for a moment as he swings open the fridge door to inspect the contents. He grabs eggs, some vegetables and a block of cheese; it looks as if he’s going to rustle up an omelette. He’s so attentive and caring; it isn’t all about him all the time, and that’s refreshing because I’ve spent a lot of time around men with whom that wasn’t the case.

  He’s humming something under his breath as he grabs a bowl from the cupboard and searches around for some utensils. Nothing is too much trouble and he’s eager to please. I’m trying hard to focus on Grandma’s handwriting, but my eyes keep straying. He’s so damned good to look at as he moves around the small space. Every little movement seems to affect me and I realise that I’m holding my breath. When I expel it, his head turns in my direction.

  ‘A
re you okay?’

  ‘Nearly finished,’ I lie. The last thing on my mind right now is Versailles.

  Ronan whisks the contents of the bowl, unaware that I’m watching him. The way he tilts his head and the little mannerisms he doesn’t even realise he has.

  Whenever he finishes a task, he leans his palms on the countertop, fingers splayed and drumming lightly as he considers his next step. Then those powerful arms push back, as he turns away to grab something else. Some herbs, the cheese grater, a pan… mundane little actions that make me want to go up and throw my arms around him. Just because he’s here, in my little world, and I’m feeling things I never, ever expected to feel.

  12

  With a Little Help from Our Friends

  Ronan’s potential stand-in, Yvette Gilliard, calls to confirm she is available on Monday.

  Ronan immediately dials Solange, and it isn’t long before we both receive a text from her to say that she has arranged to reschedule the interview. We’ve been given special permission to film even though the palace itself is closed to the general public on Mondays, but she will be there to ensure we have access to whatever facilities we require. I immediately text Cameron to let him know and he replies with a thumbs up.

  It’s a huge relief this morning to talk to Elliot and be able to reassure him everything is under control.

  ‘And how is Mia doing?’ I ask tentatively. He sounds so tired and anxious that I’m almost scared to hear his answer.

  ‘She’s heavily sedated at the moment. She has pleurisy, but overnight they discovered she also has a blood clot in her right lung. That’s what has been causing the low oxygen levels and the shortness of breath. She’s on a drip with antibiotics and blood thinners to break it down. We’ll know more in a day or two. They’ve warned us that the clot can leave scars and other damage, but, assuming they’ve caught it early enough, her body will take about six weeks at least to recover from this episode.