Annie smiled very brightly. ‘I’d say it was a splendid idea,’ she said. Then, determinedly and without giving herself time for further thought, she raised her voice to carry above the sound of the waves. ‘Richard? Davie? Have you got a second?’
* * *
Davie’s excitement and happiness at knowing that he was after all to experience what to him seemed like the adventure of a lifetime almost made up for Annie’s own disappointment and for the anxiety she resolutely hid. The boy sang around the house, discussed every detail of the trip with her, traced every possible route on maps and atlases, avidly read everything he could lay his hands on about northern France and Paris. He even, to his mother’s amused amazement, took an interest in what clothes to pack, quizzing Richard about where they would go and what they would see.
‘I’ve truly never seen him so excited,’ Annie told Richard. ‘When he saw his name on your passport I thought he was going to burst.’
‘You don’t mind? That he’s on my passport?’ Richard eyed her seriously. ‘You know it’s only a purely legal, technical thing? As his guardian’ – he smiled a little wryly – ‘as his male guardian… I would have to give permission for him to travel abroad with you even if I had had him put on your passport. It just seemed simpler—’
‘I don’t mind. Of course I don’t.’ The words were quick. They were sitting in the garden, nightcaps on the table before them. Summer dusk gathered around them. ‘It was very clever of you to get it all fixed up so quickly. Do you know everyone in the entire world?’
He smiled a little, shook his head. ‘Only about half!’
‘Well, they certainly seem to be the influential half.’ She turned her glass in her hand, her eyes reflective. ‘It’s just such a shame that I won’t be using the one you got for me.’
He reached out a hand to touch her arm.
‘When will you know when you’re going?’
‘In a couple of days.’ He grinned that engaging grin. ‘I’ve got a friend looking after things for me.’
She laughed softly.
He leaned to kiss her. ‘I’ll take care of him, my darling. I promise you.’
‘Oh, I know that.’ The words were quick and obviously sincere. ‘It’s just – well, he and I have never been so far apart before. Oh, he goes to Mother’s, but that’s different somehow. I know where he is, what he’s doing, who he’s with. And you – I hate it when you go away. It seems such a’ – she hesitated, searching for words, then laughed again – ‘such a waste of time. It’s as if… as if there’s a hole in my life.’ She shrugged, sipped her drink.
There was a moment of silence. Then Richard took her free hand and stood up, gently pulling her with him. ‘Bring your drink,’ he said softly. ‘Let’s go to bed.’
* * *
Two days later, early on the Saturday morning, the telephone call came. Richard took it in the sitting room. ‘Bernard, hello,’ Annie heard him say. ‘Yes. Yes. Splendid! When?’ A pause. ‘As early as that? Wonderful. You’re a grand chap. No, no, that’s fine. Yes, all arranged. You’ll send the necessary paperwork to the office? Many thanks. We will. Thanks again. Bye.’
Davie, tucking into boiled egg and soldiers, had all but stopped breathing. He sat in a state of suspended animation, the spoon halfway to his mouth. Egg yolk dripped.
‘Davie!’ Annie said. ‘Do watch what you’re doing!’
The boy lowered the spoon, his eyes on the door.
Richard appeared in the doorway, smiling. ‘Well,’ he said and then, teasingly, hesitated.
‘What?’ Davie’s eyes were shining with excitement. ‘What?’
‘Wednesday. We leave on Wednesday.’
Davie let out a little wordless screech and dropped his spoon.
‘This Wednesday?’ Annie asked faintly.
He nodded.
‘And when do you come back?’
‘Saturday week. So, young man, now we can really start making plans and plotting routes. Best you get packing, eh?’
Annie was suddenly brisk. She reached for the teapot. ‘Best you eat your egg first,’ she said. ‘You won’t get boiled egg and soldiers in Paris!’
* * *
The next few days flew by. It seemed to Annie no time at all before suddenly neatly packed suitcases were being carried downstairs, travel documents checked, last-minute details sorted out. Davie, scrubbed and shiny as a new pin and looking as if he had not slept for twenty-four hours – which his mother knew for a fact he had not – danced on the doorstep with impatience as Richard and Annie said their goodbyes.
Richard held her tight, crushing her to him. ‘You’re not to worry. If I can I’ll telephone you, but you know how difficult it can be. You sometimes have to book a call days in advance. If you don’t hear, don’t fret.’
‘I won’t.’ She clung to him for an instant, closing her eyes.
‘Jane is coming today?’
‘Yes. Around lunchtime.’
‘Good. Now you two have a really good time, you hear me? Hit the town. Spend some money.’
She lifted her head, gave him a slightly wobbly smile. ‘We will.’
‘Come on, Richard.’ Davie was looking at his wristwatch. ‘It’s nearly eight o’clock. You said we had to leave by eight—’
Richard grinned. ‘I’m coming.’ He kissed Annie fiercely. ‘Davie, come and say goodbye to your mother.’
‘I’ve already…’ Davie took one look at his mother’s face and thought better of that. He ran to her, submitted to yet another kiss, another rearrangement of his hair.
‘Now, you be good,’ Annie admonished him for at least the dozenth time. ‘And be careful. Stay with Richard. Do as he says. Don’t talk to strangers. Remember that in France the traffic travels on the wrong side of the road—’
‘Oh, Mother!’
‘I know. I know.’ She dropped a quick kiss on his cheek. ‘Just one more thing,’ she added.
Davie sighed. ‘What is it?’
‘Don’t get too used to sitting in the front seat of the car. That’s mine.’ Laughing, she gave him a little push. ‘Off you go! Have a good time.’
She stood at the door waving until the car turned the corner; then, sighing a little, she turned back to the quiet and very empty house.
* * *
Within seconds of arriving Jane was organising their week with military precision. ‘I’ve got tickets for the ballet for Friday night. I ordered them by post the moment I got your letter. It’s Coppelia. I do love Coppelia, don’t you? I thought we might go to the cinema this afternoon, and then spend a quiet night in. What do you think? What’s on – do you know?’
‘Er… something with Charlie Chaplin, I believe—’
‘Oh, good. That’ll make you laugh. You always liked him, didn’t you? Silly little man. And then tomorrow – tomorrow I thought we might go shopping. In the West End.’ Jane had removed her hatpin and then her hat. She stood for a moment looking down at them, thoughtfully, before lifting wide and artless eyes to her daughter’s face. ‘I hope you don’t mind,’ she said, a touch too composedly, ‘but I thought it might be nice to have a visitor for dinner tomorrow night. I thought it might… distract you a little.’ She had the grace to colour very faintly at the laughter that lifted in her daughter’s face.
‘Joshua?’ Annie suggested.
‘Joshua.’
Annie laughed aloud. ‘He’ll be more than welcome. As are you. Come in, come in. I’ve been ordered to indulge myself. And you. So – a small glass of sherry before lunch? In the garden?’
Jane slipped from her light summer coat and hung it on the newel post. What a very splendid idea,’ she agreed.
* * *
To her own surprise Annie did not actually worry about Davie as much as she had expected to; she trusted Richard implicitly, knew the boy could not be in safer or better hands. By the morning following their departure she knew that the boat which had carried them across the Channel had not sunk, for such an event would certainly not be missed by Th
e Times – she had to laugh at herself with her mother at that piece of motherly deduction – and she did not suppose that the roads of rural France were any more or less dangerous than those of rural England. The thing that surprised her most, however, was how very much she wished she were with them, and not simply because she missed their company. Over the past few weeks, as she had gradually started to believe that her paralysing phobia had been cured, she had positively come to look forward to revisiting the place where she had spent the many long and happy years of her young life. With Richard beside her, the tragedy and horror that had blighted the end of those years could surely have been put behind her. Through all the precious years of Davie’s life she had carried deep down within her a sense of guilt, of worthlessness, a smothering and agonising fear that the conventional, unremarkable but above all safe life she had built for herself – and for him – was a building with foundations in sand. In deception, and worse than deception. But was it really so? Was there no such thing as a fresh start, a clean slate? If Richard had given her anything, apart from his love, it was a sense of proportion. More and more she had come to see Paris as what she really was – not as she, Annie, in her paranoia had perceived Paris to be. A lovely, light-hearted, beguiling city, no more, no less. A place. A beautiful, vivid, heartwarming place – not a devil’s den of deceit, iniquity and haunted shadows. She laughed at Charlie Chaplin, enjoyed her mother’s company, looked forward to the ballet. But in her heart she longed to be in Paris with the two she loved most in the world.
* * *
Joshua, leaning back in his chair and placing spoon and fork precisely together upon his empty plate, surveyed Annie with bright, questioning eyes. ‘That was truly delicious, my dear. Thank you.’ He hesitated for a moment. ‘I must admit that I hadn’t realised just how badly you wanted to accompany your menfolk on this trip.’ He glanced at Jane, his smile mischievous. ‘I had simply assumed that you were happy to be rid of them for a while, to enjoy some more amenable and civilised feminine company?’
Annie shook her head. She was well aware that she had drunk too much of the excellent wine that Joshua himself had supplied, and had perhaps spoken with more passion than was usual for her. ‘I always love to spend time with Mother.’ Her own smile matched his. ‘Who wouldn’t? But I can’t deny it’s been a terrible disappointment to me not to be able to go.’ She began to collect the dishes. ‘Brandy, Joshua?’
‘Please. Yes.’ He cocked his handsome silver head to one side, watching her. ‘I assume,’ he said as she stacked the dishes on the sideboard and brought the brandy bottle to the table, ‘that the great adventure of the journey which has so caught the imagination of your son is not of any great interest to you?’
She shrugged a little, reaching for glasses. ‘Not really.’ She laughed a little. ‘But unfortunately I don’t have a magic wand. Or a fairy godmother. If you want to go somewhere the journey is inescapable, isn’t it? And I wouldn’t want to disgrace myself again. Not yet, anyway. Brandy, Mother?’
‘Yes, please, dear,’ Jane said comfortably. She was watching Joshua intently, an interrogatory crease on her brow.
Joshua watched as Annie poured the brandy, lifted his glass, swirling the golden liquid in its bowl. ‘Then why don’t you join them, my dear young thing?’ he asked at last, face and voice faintly perplexed. ‘I say, do you mind if I smoke?’
‘No, of course not.’ Annie was now looking at him with much the same expression as her mother. ‘What do you mean?’
‘A cigarette, my dear—’
‘No, no. I mean – how could I possibly join them?’
He reached in his pocket, brought out a gold cigarette case that gleamed dully in the candlelight. Cigarette unlit between nicotine-stained fingers, he looked from one to another with the faint dawn of amused enjoyment in his eyes. ‘Annie – a clever girl like you – you surely know there are always more ways of killing a cat than choking it with butter?’ He looked at Jane. ‘I’m surprised at you, my dear. I had you down as the resourceful one.’
Jane reached for her glass, shook her head. Her eyes held a mixture of curiosity and laughter.
Joshua lit his cigarette, stood up. ‘May I use your telephone, my dear?’
Annie stared at him. ‘Why – yes. Of course.’
‘You are serious? About going to Paris?’
‘Yes,’ she said again. ‘Very. But I don’t see—’
He held up his hand, smiling, and left the room.
Annie and her mother eyed each other.
Joshua’s head reappeared around the door. ‘You do have a passport?’
‘Yes.’ Annie had given up. She looked at her mother. Jane shrugged, shook her head.
‘And you have your husband’s full permission to spend money?’
‘Yes.’
‘Which is only as it should be,’ he said approvingly. ‘Just give me a moment.’
* * *
‘You’ve got the address?’
Annie nodded nervously.
‘Passport?’ Her mother was counting on her fingers.
‘Yes.’
‘Money?’
‘Yes.’ Annie hefted the heavy winter coat that hung over her arm. ‘I must admit I feel a bit silly carting this about on such a lovely afternoon.’
Joshua, who had turned up unexpectedly to see her off, smiled. ‘You’ll need it, my dear. Believe me.’
Jane opened the front door. ‘Ah. Here’s the taxi.’
Annie glanced in the mirror, adjusted her hat. ‘Do I look all right?’
‘You look lovely. Are you nervous?’
‘Very.’
Jane laughed. ‘I’m sure you’ll be all right. I envy you. What an adventure! Give them my love.’
‘I will.’
Her mother made a little shooing movement with her hands. ‘Well, go on then. Off you go.’
Annie picked up her small case, hesitated for a moment longer. The taxi driver hooted his horn. Impulsively she kissed her mother, and then Joshua. ‘Thank you so much for your help. Bye, Mother. See you next week.’ She hurried down the path, handed her case to the driver and climbed into the back of the cab.
‘Where to, love?’
She took a breath. ‘Hounslow Heath, please,’ she said. ‘The aerodrome.’
As they drove off she turned to look through the rear window at her mother and Joshua. And even nervous as she was, could not resist a smile to see how closely they stood to each other, Joshua’s arm lightly about her mother’s waist; and how bright was Jane’s face as she tilted her head to look at him. No fears at all that she had blighted Jane’s few days in London by leaving so precipitately. The ballet tickets would not be wasted.
She settled back in her seat and tried not to think of what she was about to do.
Conclusion
Paris
Chapter Seventeen
The aeroplane was delayed – an event which Annie gathered from her fellow passengers was by no means unusual – and a late dusk was gathering as the taxi finally drove into the centre of a Paris sweltering in the warmth of an August night, and glittering with a spangled mantle of light that rivalled, indeed outdid the brilliantly star-lit sky. Annie, suddenly animated, leaned forward to look out of the window. The flight had been nothing like she had anticipated; nothing, she thought to herself wryly, remotely like the advertisements that graced the pages of the fashionable newspapers and magazines. She had expected to be nervous – if not downright terrified. Despite Joshua’s warnings, and the coat he had assured her was absolutely necessary whatever the weather, she had not expected to be quite so cold, quite so uncomfortable nor subjected to so much noise that her ears still ached with it. Yet there had been an unexpected elation, too, a sense of excitement and adventure. She smiled to herself as she anticipated, not for the first time, Davie’s astonishment when he saw her, his envy when he discovered how she had managed so to surprise them.
The taxi had slowed to a crawl; the streets and pavements were thron
ged with people; tables and chairs were set beneath the trees; a babble of talk and laughter came to her through the open window of the cab. Gradually her ears were attuning to the sound of a language that had once come as naturally to her as her English. Looking out over the wide tree-lined boulevards, the pavement cafes, the glittering river with its graceful bridges, she suddenly felt a catch in her throat. This had been the city of her childhood and her youth. She saw herself as a small girl, skipping beside Colette, their maid-of-all-work, in early morning sunshine, going to the pâtisserie to buy croissants and pains au chocolat for breakfast. All at once, she remembered vividly the demure young woman of the pre-war years, in sprigged muslin, heavy hair swept up beneath her wide-brimmed hat, walking with careful dignity beneath the trees of the Champs-Élysées, well aware of the impression she was making upon the young men who lounged at the pavement tables. She saw too, suddenly and crystal clear, a tall, fair, dark-eyed young man with an enchanting smile and an endearing gentleness about him; remembered the stolen meetings, the touch of his hand beneath a table, the first tremulous kiss on the banks of this very river that sparkled and glittered through the trees and buildings as they approached it.
She blinked and sat back a little, into the shadows.
The Place de la Concorde was crowded, a moving mass of horse-drawn traffic, motor cars, bicycles and pedestrians who wove their way through the near-chaos of the traffic with a cavalier disregard for their own – or others’ – safety. The cab driver growled a curse. Annie drew a deep breath. Oddly, ever since the whirlwind set in motion by Joshua and his suggestion that she fly to join Richard and Davie, she had never really looked beyond this moment; it was almost as if she had not truly believed it to be possible that she could actually be whisked from London to Paris in less time than it would normally take her to go to an afternoon matinee at the cinema. Now, suddenly, she felt an unexpected twinge of apprehension.
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