Finding Mother

by Allen, Anne

  ‘Tomorrow morning would be great, thanks. How…how was it for you? Talking to him?’

  ‘A bit difficult. After more than thirty-five years, it was bound to be.’ She put down the knife and rubbed her temples. Her head had ached since the phone call and she wondered if she should take a painkiller. Gazing at Nicole’s concerned face she added, ‘But we …we’ve broken the ice now. And you two can meet without my being involved. I’m glad he wants to see you. Should help you…move on.’ Her voice caught on a sob and Nicole stepped round the table and hugged her. They clung together while Hélène sought to calm herself. ‘Isn’t it supposed to be the mother comforting the child?’ she asked, shakily.

  ‘Not always. It depends. What about you and Grandmother?’

  Hélène released herself gently and looking at her daughter, replied, ‘We’ve never been good at hugging. I don’t think she was hugged much as a child, not from what I saw of her mother, who wasn’t at all maternal. My father was much more loving, always happy to cuddle me.’ She bit her lips before straightening up, telling herself not to burden Nicole with her own grief. She went off to make the phone call and was back moments later to say she’d arranged for them to meet for coffee in St Peter Port the next morning.

  ‘I’ll lend you my Perry’s guide, absolutely essential to finding your way around.’ She rooted around in a drawer and passed it to Nicole.

  ‘Right, lunch is ready. I’ll go and fetch Mother if you could lay the table, please.’

  Moments later she wheeled in a very pale Eve who managed a small smile as she nodded to Nicole. After the usual pleasantries were exchanged the three women sat in silence as they ate. Hélène kept glancing at Eve, feeling worried about her, but when she suggested that Eve might prefer to go back to bed, Eve snapped back that she was fine and not to fuss.

  ‘Grandmother, would you like me to come and read to you after lunch? Or just chat? I’d love to know what it was like here during the Occupation if you felt up to talking.’

  ‘I’m happy to talk for a little while, but I wasn’t here during the Occupation. I was evacuated with my younger sister to England.’

  ‘Oh, I see. Well, I’m sure you’ve still got some interesting stories to tell.’

  Hélène looked on in amazement. Her mother had never offered to talk to her about the war! But, thinking back, perhaps she’d never asked. She’d always felt that her mother hadn’t wanted to talk about it. She had to agree with Nicole, Eve probably had a few old tales stored away. She set to washing the dishes as Nicole wheeled Eve back to her room. Hélène felt a slight pang of jealousy at the thought that Eve seemed more at ease with Nicole than with herself. Perhaps it was just a generational thing, she consoled herself.

  ***

  Nicole settled Eve by the window, but then asked her if she’d rather sit outside as it was a beautiful hot day.

  ‘Perhaps I could try for just a little while. I seem to feel cold all the time – ’

  ‘I’ll bring you straight back, don’t worry. The fresh air might perk you up.’ She pushed open the French windows and Eve sniffed the air in approval. The wheelchair rolled out easily onto the terrace and Nicole made sure she was not facing the bright sun.

  ‘Comfortable? I can get you more rugs, cushions

  'No, I’m fine, thank you.’ Eve inhaled deeply as she looked around her beloved garden. ‘It needs a lot of work, doesn’t it? I haven’t been able to garden for a couple of years. And we can’t afford professional help.’ She sighed. She knew she was being pig-headed by insisting she wouldn’t move to a care home, but she so loved her garden, the view of the sea and the little independence left to her. Not that I’ve seen the best of the view for a while now. Perhaps I should give in to Hélène and let her sell…

  Nicole broke into her thoughts. ‘Would you like me to pick some roses for you? Some are overblown and won’t last much longer, anyway. You can enjoy their perfume.’

  ‘That would be lovely, thank you. You’ll find some secateurs on the table in my room.’

  She watched Nicole pick three beautiful, big pink roses and bring them to her. Eve held them carefully as she breathed in their intoxicating scent.

  ‘Oh, thank you, my dear. Just what I needed.’ As Nicole sat down on a chair, Eve continued, ‘Now, you’d like to know a bit about what happened during the war?’

  ‘Only if it doesn’t tire or upset you.’

  Eve shook her head. ‘It wasn’t as bad for me as it was for those who stayed here. At least I didn’t have to live under the thumb of German soldiers like so many of my friends and family.’ Sadness tugged at her heart as the memories surfaced. ‘My brother was killed fighting for Britain like so many of the young Guernsey lads. My parents never really got over his death.’ She looked up at Nicole, adding, ‘He was supposed to carry on with their farm and produce heirs, and look after them in their old age.’ Eve laughed bitterly. ‘When my little sister and I returned after the war my parents barely spoke to us. Lottie, who was seventeen by then, couldn’t stand it and went back to England. She later married a man she met there and never returned. Even when I married Reg and had Hélène my parents virtually ignored me.’

  Eve looked out over her garden and smiled. ‘They were the losers, though. Reg and I bought this house and land at a rock-bottom price and became very successful growers. Made more money than my parents ever made on the farm. I don’t think they ever forgave us for that.’

  Eve found herself retreating into thoughts of the past, to a time of much laughter…and tears.

  chapter 17

  Finding her way into St Peter Port had been easy; it was so well sign-posted that Nicole had not needed to refer to Perrys. However, having passed so many lanes and roads branching off the main road to St Martins she could see how useful it would be. Assuming she was to stay awhile.

  Approaching St Peter Port down the steep Le Val de Terres, Nicole only partly registered the view over the harbour and out towards the neighbouring islands of Herm and Sark. Her mind was filled with so many conflicting thoughts about the meeting with Adrian, that she even contemplated chickening out. So sure she would hate him on sight it didn’t seem worth the bother. Only the reminder that he was her father, holding the final piece of the jigsaw that was her DNA, persuaded her to see it through.

  Years ago she had sailed with friends from Jersey and remembered the car park at the Albert Pier, bordering the visitor’s marina. From there it was a short walk to the Dix Neuf Brasserie where she was due to meet Adrian. She vaguely recalled it was one of the watering holes on Susie’s hen weekend.

  As she walked past the Town church her heart was beating fast and she felt hot and sticky. After stopping for a moment to calm her breathing, she headed for the entrance. Hélène had told her to look out for a tall man, with thick greying hair, brown eyes and wearing a blue short-sleeved shirt.

  As her gaze swept over the room a man who could only be Adrian stood up and advanced towards her.

  ‘Nicole?’

  ‘Yes. Hello, er, Adrian.’ Her heart was still beating too fast for comfort but, as Adrian shook her hand, she guessed, from his own clammy hand, that he was just as nervous. He smiled tentatively before ushering her towards his table and pulling out a chair.

  She had a moment to study him before a waitress came to take their order for two café lattes. He looks younger than I’d expected. And his face looks a bit familiar…

  ‘You’ve got your mother’s eyes. I would have known you even without Hélène’s description.’ One of Adrian’s eyes twitched and Nicole found herself gazing at it. He’s not finding this any easier than I am. Good! He continued. ‘It was quite a shock talking to Hélène yesterday. After all this time…’

  ‘It’s been strange for me too. I only met Hélène and her mother a couple of weeks ago and now…now you. I’m not sure where we start.’

  The waitress arrived with their coffees and as she left Adrian said, ‘I owe you both an apology
and an explanation, Nicole. As I do your mother.’ The twitch speeded up.

  Nicole sipped her coffee as she waited for him to continue. She didn’t see why she should make it easy for him.

  ‘I realise how selfish and cowardly I was when…when Hélène told me she was pregnant. I could only think about myself and my career.’ He gazed at his coffee, as if unable to look at her. Slowly he raised his eyes and she saw the genuine sorrow reflected there. Mm, good.

  ‘I couldn’t face the resulting scandal if I’d left my wife and lived with Hélène. If I could have got a divorce it would’ve been different, I assure you.’

  His eyes locked onto Nicole’s, and she wondered if he saw the challenge within them. Her challenge to be honest at last.

  ‘I loved your mother with all my heart. Carol and I…had grown apart even before I met Hélène and I no longer loved her.’ He sighed. ‘She said she still loved me but behaved as if she didn’t. She…she did find out about Hélène, but not about you.’

  ‘Your…your wife must have realised that you didn’t love her anymore. Didn’t she want to separate? To start a new life for herself?’

  He shook his head.

  ‘No, she wouldn’t consider it. When I brought up the idea of living apart she became very angry; hating to be seen as a failure. And, to be honest, so did I. But I would have gladly separated if she’d consented. She threatened to make it difficult for me if I left her and I knew she could.’ He sipped his coffee. ‘Her father was a Deputy involved with the Education Department and could have made it impossible for me to work here as a teacher.’

  He looked down at his hands cradling the coffee before lifting his eyes to face her. She kept her gaze impassive, but her emotions churned away inside. He was still making excuses…

  ‘I’ve made a mess of things and I can only say how sorry I am. I’d understand if you wanted nothing more to do with me.’

  Nicole wasn’t sure what she felt. On the one hand, she thought that to his credit, Adrian had owned up to his failings but on the other he’d caused heartbreak to Hélène who’d lost both him and her only child. Although she’d expected to hate him, it hadn’t worked out that way. He was an ordinary guy who had behaved badly, but he was no monster. Didn’t stop her feeling angry with him though…

  ‘I don’t think I can spend time with you, getting to know each other better, unless you make some sort of amends to Hélène.’ Keeping her eyes locked onto his – one still twitching – she asked, ‘Do you still love her?’

  His eyebrows rose in surprise.

  ‘I…I don’t know. Perhaps. It’s been so long, we’ll both have changed… But I have thought about her a lot and wished that we could be…friends again.’

  ‘So, how about you ask her to meet up with you and take it from there? Apologise properly.’ Huh, here’s me acting like a Relate counsellor and I can’t even sort out my own marriage problems. Ironic, she knew, but she really wanted to help Hélène, if she could. She was amazed at her temerity. But it seemed to have the right effect as Adrian agreed.

  He gave her a hesitant smile.

  ‘If I make my peace with your mother, will you let me see you again?’

  ‘Possibly. I’ll think about it. And you can’t take too long to kiss and make up as I might decide to head back to England. Or wherever.’

  They stood up, shook hands and said their goodbyes. Nicole genuinely wasn’t sure if she wanted to see Adrian again and as she walked back to her car she wondered if Hélène would want to. Mm, wonder if I’ve gone too far?

  ***

  Hélène was making a cup of tea as Nicole entered the kitchen. She looked up, searching for clues in Nicole’s face. But she was giving nothing away.

  ‘How did it go?’

  ‘Okay, I guess. We didn’t talk for long but I did give him a chance to…well, make amends. But it does involve you so – ’

  ‘Me? Why should your getting to know Adrian involve me?’ Hélène gripped the mug tightly as Nicole repeated what she had said to Adrian. Anger started to burn slowly through her and her face must have registered her feelings as Nicole continued, ‘Look, I’m sorry if I’ve been out of line here. If you don’t want to see Adrian then please just say no. I was just trying to help.’

  Hélène fought hard to keep her temper, she knew Nicole thought she was helping but…

  ‘I don’t want you interfering between us. I found it hard enough to talk to the man and have no intention of seeing him. None at all.’

  Nicole looked shocked. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, the last thing I wanted was to upset you. Let’s forget it. It means I can’t see him again as I made it conditional on his apologising to you, but…’ She shrugged and left the kitchen, letting the door slam shut.

  Hélène was left feeling drained and slumped down on her chair. Nicole shouldn’t have made that deal with Adrian without checking with me first. And now she’s upset with me and she’s only just arrived! She held her head in her hands wondering if they could work it out or if Nicole would be booking a flight home. What a mess!

  ***

  Nicole, feeling upset by Hélène’s reaction, and not trusting herself to add further flames to the fire, dashed upstairs to grab her bikini and a towel before driving off. The beach beckoned.

  She steered the car west until she hit the coast road and followed it around, eventually spotting a stretch of golden sand encircling a large bay. According to her Perrys it was Vazon Bay and looked wonderful. Nicole pulled onto the stony parking area, grabbed her bag and negotiated the steps almost hidden in the granite sea wall. Massed bodies stretched out on the fine sand made it hard to see a free spot, but after walking along the beach she discovered a small patch sheltered by the wall.

  As she stretched out she replayed what had happened between her and Hélène. The sun’s warmth and the sound of softly lapping waves on the shore helped her to calm down and be more objective. Mm, Hélène does have a point, I guess. I presumed she’d want to see Adrian even though she’d made it clear she was still angry with him. I should have checked with her first. Oh, I’m an idiot! I’ve scuppered my chance of seeing Adrian again even though I’m not that bothered at the moment. But if they were to make up then maybe I’d want to get to know him. The unsettling thoughts continued to tumble around in her head until, at last, the heat and sea air lulled her into a welcome doze.

  Languidly stretching her limbs as consciousness returned, she realised she was hungry and walked up to the kiosk for a sandwich and coffee. Refreshed, she decided on a quick swim and ran down to the sea. Being low tide it was quite a dash to the water’s edge, where she found laughing groups of children and adults either paddling or splashing about. The water struck particularly cold after lying in the sun and she had to force herself to go in deeper before breaking into a strong crawl. After an invigorating swim she emerged feeling ready to move on. Sidestepping children building sandcastles and the recumbent bodies slowly turning red in the sun, Nicole made her way up the beach to change.

  Back in the car she considered what to do. Her mind was still full of the events of the past two days and she didn’t want to return to La Folie. Getting out the map she decided to circumnavigate the coast before going home. That should give me time to sort myself out! As she drove north the bays and beaches she passed reminded her of those in Jersey, a bittersweet reflection, making her feel homesick. Vazon Bay itself she’d thought very like Jersey’s St Ouens.

  As a daughter of both islands Nicole felt torn with her loyalty. Added to which she had spent all her adult life in England. She smiled at the thought of her mixed- up background while noting the similarities as well as the differences between the islands. Jersey was the larger, at nine miles by five, with Guernsey a modest seven miles by five. The crapauds of Jersey naturally considered it to be the more bustling and sophisticated of the two. But Nicole conceded that, from what she’d seen, Guernsey was beautiful, with its own unique charm. Spying another sandy bay she pu
lled in briefly to admire it from her car. Checking her map she saw it was Cobo Bay and reminded her of Jersey’s Anne Port, the sandy beach strewn with extensive rocks near the sea-shore.

  As her gaze swept around the beach and back towards the car park, she thought she saw Ben sitting in a car further along. While she debated whether or not to approach him, the engine was started and the car driven past her. It was Ben. Her stomach flipped at the memory of their first – and only – meeting. She could recall the tingling sensation as their hands touched as if it had just happened. Had it been her own too-vivid imagination or had something special occurred between them? Feeling she must be losing the plot, she started the car and continued north.

  Her drive continued at the sedate speed limit of 35mph enabling her to drink in the stunning views as she mulled over what she’d say to Hélène on her return. By the time she hit the road leading from the bustling St Sampson’s Harbour into St Peter Port, she had decided that she had to apologise. Then it would be up to Hélène.

  Driving slowly as the traffic built up, Nicole could see the islands of Herm and Sark basking in the sun. They seemed to be beckoning her as she sat in a line of barely moving vehicles. She’d been to Sark as a girl and had loved cycling the dusty lanes of the car-free island. But she’d never visited the even tinier island of Herm and vowed to go before leaving Guernsey. Which might be soon if she and Hélène didn’t make up.

  Driving past St Peter Port’s main marina, the QEII, Nicole took in the racy yachts and gin palaces bobbing gently at their moorings. The hands on the nearby clock tower pointed to five o’clock as she negotiated the lanes of traffic towards the Le Val de Terres.

  Half an hour later Nicole pulled up at La Folie. Right, abject apology coming up. Heading off to the kitchen, she found it empty so put the kettle on to make a much needed cup of tea. She had just taken her first sip when Hélène walked in, looking red-eyed.

  ‘Thought I heard your car. Look, Nicole I – ’