by Lucy Coleman
I’m almost rendered speechless by the state of this sadly neglected building and can find nothing to say for a moment. The impression I get is that financially Sam lives from day to day. It’s going to take him years to make it habitable and it will, no doubt, cost a small fortune.
‘It’s a lovely setting.’ I’ve broken the silence and he seems pleased.
‘At last, someone who doesn’t think I’m totally mad. Let me show you around.’
He yanks open one of the barn doors.
‘You don’t keep it locked?’
He laughs. ‘There’s nothing to steal.’
The inside is in a much worse state than Mum and Dad’s second gîte, which hasn’t even been touched yet. If I thought the repointing job I’m doing is big, the task here is huge. The barn still has the original dirt floor and it’s just a massive open space right up to the wooden trusses supporting the new roof. But, surprisingly, most of the rear wall has been taken out and I now see why there’s no need to lock the door. Sheets of plastic tacked on to wooden strips cover the wide opening. But once you look past the grimy film, what you see is a totally unobstructed view out over fields and beyond that a vast swathe of trees.
‘It’s beautiful, Sam. This view is absolutely stunning.’ Even in the fading light, it has a presence.
‘I know it doesn’t look much now but it will look great, eventually.’
I’m thinking fifty thousand pounds plus later might make for a rather distant eventually. Sam turns on a row of three LED floodlights on a telescopic tripod.
‘This is a long term investment. Still, being in the trade makes it a lot less daunting, I suppose.’ I’m thinking out loud and then realise that might sound a little negative.
‘No, not really; it’s still daunting. But when I arrived here I didn’t have much money and this was all I could afford. I came here because I’d had a nervous breakdown and before I left the UK I racked up a lot of debt that needed repaying. When you lose everything and completely mess up your life, anything you can hold onto is a bonus. At least I’m not living with my parents and the caravan is adequate. I know you’re only here for the summer, but it isn’t easy, is it? Once you’ve had your freedom it feels like a backwards step to go home. With my parents now virtually on my doorstep it’s only natural they want to be involved in my life. Parents tend to cling on and feel it’s their job to save you from yourself. But I don’t need saving as I’m happy enough as I am.’
There’s hurt behind those mysteriously deep green eyes of his. I wonder what it is he’s running away from, because to me the life he has here makes no sense. Why did he have that breakdown and why did his life suddenly fall apart? He’s going to be living in that caravan for a long time to come. And yet it doesn’t seem to bother him, as if he has accepted this is all his life has to offer him. He’s obviously a guy with a lot of different skills and a sharp mind; to me it seems like a waste, but then ambition is a key motivator for me. Once I’ve recharged my batteries, I’m going to seize every opportunity that comes my way. When I start my new business, nothing is going to stop me.
‘I’m sure it will be a wonderful home once it’s finished.’
‘Well, if you get a chance to repeat that in earshot of my mother, I’ll buy you a drink. She says I’ve given her more grey hairs than my other two brothers combined! It’s frustrating not having the cash to make a real start and the progress is slow. I don’t want to borrow any money from anyone, though, as being debt free is important to me. But there’s plenty to do to keep me busy and fill all of my spare time. The trouble is the jobs are those which require a lot of effort and don’t really alter the look of the place. I’m working on digging out the trenches for the services at the moment.’
As we make our way back out of the barn we share an uneasy smile. I guess we both feel the guilt of being offspring who are a constant worry to our parents.
The Way Forward
When I walk into the kitchen the next morning, both Mum and Dad have already been up a while by the look of it.
‘Morning, Anna. Did you have an enjoyable evening with Sam?’
Mum passes me a cup of coffee as I move the plate in front of me to make room on the table. I need a moment to consider my answer, so I take a huge bite of croissant. She’s watching me intently, but Dad is too busy reading the newspaper to notice.
‘Sam did me a favour and in exchange I said I’d buy him dinner. Besides, he’s been a very patient teacher. We went to that little restaurant by the lake and on the way back he showed me his barn.’
Mum shakes her head, sadly.
‘This is just between us, Anna. His parents fear he’ll lose what little money he has and that it will never be finished. They’ve offered to help fund the work, but he’s stubborn and will only go at a pace he can afford. Personally, I think he’s rather a lost soul; he works non-stop but a lot of that is helping out other people. I know he needs the money but there are a few small businesses around here he often helps out for free. But spending a couple of hours of his time to fix a water leak in return for a meal isn’t helping his own cause. It’s all rather sad. I’m only telling you this because you’re spending a lot of time with him and you need to be aware of the situation.’
‘Aware of what?’ I’m not sure where Mum is heading with this.
‘I simply mean… Sam’s fragile at the moment, Anna. I know it annoys you when people waste their God-given potential, but he has his reasons. It isn’t that he lacks motivation but he puts other people first and I’m not sure that’s solely about his lack of funds for his own project. What was the favour he did for you?’
Am I quick to judge? I suppose I might be on occasion, although I don’t mean to be. I still can’t fathom out why Sam is settling for the quiet life, when there are so many other options out there. Maybe he just wants to take things easy and have as few responsibilities as possible, which isn’t a crime. But it is a waste when he’s obviously capable of so much more.
‘We popped in to have a chat with Madame Allard and Sam acted as my interpreter. I thought I’d try to track down the people her husband bought this place from. I had a quick look online and I think that just the ring alone is worth a lot of money, mainly because of the stones. Judging by the style and setting, it’s early Victorian.’
‘Was Honorine helpful?’ Mum asks, clearly interested.
I nod, finishing a mouthful of croissant and homemade strawberry jam.
‘Yes. She told us that the previous owners were an Englishman and his French wife. A young English boy came to live with them. He wasn’t their son, though. His name was Thomas. She told me to speak to Monsieur Deniaud.’
‘Really? Geoff, what do you make of that?’
Dad immediately turns his head and I can see his attention wasn’t on the paper in front of him.
‘I suppose it can’t hurt to ask a question or two, but I can’t see what Monsieur Deniaud could add to what Honorine has said. I think you might have to accept defeat on this one, Anna.’
Defeat? Me? Never.
‘But what if the boy was the one who hid the jewellery box there? I’m curious about why he would leave behind something valuable and, possibly, of even greater sentimental value.’
With that my phone kicks into life and all three of us stare at it in total shock. I grab it, flicking open the cover and mutter with relief, ‘It’s Lizzie. Excuse me.’
I get up from the table and walk out through the hallway as I talk.
‘Hey, Lizzie. Lovely to hear from you. I’ve been meaning to call you to thank you for your email.’
‘It’s good to hear your voice. It feels like you’ve been gone forever.’ There’s something in her tone that makes my heart begin to race.
‘Are you okay?’
I listen, holding my breath as she clears her throat and I start meandering down the garden, heading for the vegetable patch and a seat under the old oak tree.
‘I was until I arrived in the office ten minute
s ago. I don’t know where to start really and you aren’t going to like this. I’m fuming, too.’
I can’t recall ever hearing her sound this mad and I don’t even try to interrupt her.
‘Karl has texted me a few times, asking for an address for you. He said he wanted to send flowers. I ignored him and assumed that eventually he’d give up. I was out showing a customer around a property late yesterday afternoon and I’ve just been informed by our newest member of staff that while I was gone your tenant called in. He asked for your address as he told her he had some mail to forward on and she fell for it. When she described the guy it was Karl all right. I’m so sorry and if she wasn’t still learning the ropes, this wouldn’t have happened.
‘We simply don’t give out any information whatsoever about our clients. I know that sorry is a totally redundant word here and I realise how much trouble this could cause you.’
My head flops forward, chin resting on my chest as I let out a deep sigh.
‘It’s partly my fault. I should have warned you that he’s been texting me every day and has sent me a few emails. I almost feel like I’m being stalked, which is crazy considering how devastated I was when he put our relationship on hold. He lied to get the information he wanted, so the only one at fault here is Karl.’
‘Well, she’s learnt an important lesson the hard way, but if you weren’t a friend—’
‘But I am.’
‘It’s kind of you, Anna, and if you’d been angry it would have been more than justified. But Karl, well, he’s certainly determined to win you back and he’s prepared to do anything to achieve that. Nothing’s changed at your end, has it? I sort of thought this might demonstrate that he has always loved you. Isn’t that all you really wanted to know? Or is it too late for that, now?’
Now she’s gone full circle and once again, Karl is looking like the hero. But he was a villain just a few moments ago.
‘I really can’t get my head around this change in him, Lizzie. He can’t do that to me and then expect me to run back to him because he’s sorry for putting his career before us. If he’d simply sat down with Robert and explained the situation at the start, this wouldn’t have happened. I know how important it was to him and his career. Okay, he would have been away travelling quite a bit, but we could still have moved forward as a couple. And I’d still have a job. Instead, I sacrificed my financial future to guarantee his – he knows that wasn’t fair.’
I wish I could see Lizzie’s expression to gauge her reaction.
‘Well, at least you are aware he has your address and I hope that doesn’t cause any problems. How’s it going over there?’ She poses the question tentatively.
‘Great. I’m helping with the renovation work on the first gîte and settling in quite nicely. It’s very quiet here and I’m determined to enjoy every moment of this break so I can come back refreshed. I might even opt for selling the house, as when I get back I’m going to set up my own business. I have this idea of targeting people with a smaller budget who need someone to create a brand for them and either set up a new website from scratch, or improve the one they already have. I would offer set packages at fixed rates, so the client is clear about the overall cost.
‘One thing I’ve learnt from this is that I don’t want to have a boss in the equation. I thought as a starting point I’d talk Mum and Dad into letting me redesign their promotional materials and website. I’ll be setting up my own website, too and hopefully I’ll have that all done before I head back to the UK. Then I really will be able to hit the ground running. All I can say is, watch this space!’ Maybe I’m faking my level of optimism here, because up to now this has just been an idea that I’ve been mulling over in my head. But it’s a lifeline and the only option I have at the moment. If I don’t latch onto something soon I’ll find myself six months down the road and no further forward.
‘I will admit that I was a bit worried there for a while. Knowing that you have a plan means I can relax. Daniel told me you’d come back even stronger once you found your feet again.’
That does make me smile and if I can convince Lizzie I’m pulling myself together then maybe I can convince myself, too.
‘He’s a great guy and you two are so perfect for each other. I am envious, I will admit, but any romantic thoughts that pop into my head in the foreseeable future are going to be very quickly swept aside. Once I’ve established myself, then and only then, will I ease up.’
‘Wow, you really are back on form! Must be all that fresh air, or maybe it’s the wine. So, are you actually getting your hands dirty with this renovation work?’
‘I’m repointing a wall and when I’ve finished that I’m going to learn how to tile a floor.’
I hold the phone away from my ear a little as Lizzie bursts out laughing.
‘Don’t knock it. It’s fun and it’s giving me plenty of time to think. And that’s just what I needed. But first I have a little mystery to solve. I’ll tell you all about it when you and Daniel come to stay.’
‘Oh, sounds too good to be true. Anyway, I must go as the other phone is ringing. Take care, lovely friend, and watch out for your dreaded stalker!’
What Sort of Boy Touches So Many Hearts?
When I go back inside, I use Lizzie’s call as the opportunity to tell Mum and Dad about my plans for the future. It helps to explain away the length of the call and I leave out any reference to Karl, as I don’t want them to be concerned. It’s probably better to let them think that we’ve had no contact at all. They are thrilled at my offer to sort out their promotional materials and Dad is clearly relieved, as designing a website from scratch with no previous experience hasn’t been easy for him. And, sadly, it shows. His computer skills are good, but limited. Besides, it’s something I can do in the evenings to keep my mind occupied and I’ll enjoy doing it.
However, I’m shocked when Dad suddenly announces that he has phoned Monsieur Deniaud. We have both been invited to afternoon tea, at four o’clock today.
‘Oh, thank you, Dad. Will I need to dress up?’
‘It’s quite an honour to be invited to the Mayor’s house, Anna. And so very kind of Monsieur Deniaud and his wife.’ Mum’s tone is serious and I take that to mean I should wear a skirt and a top, or maybe a dress.
I make my excuses and head out to join Sam, who has been here a little while by the look of it.
‘Sorry I’m late. I had a call from the UK.’
‘Problems?’
‘No, nothing I can’t handle.’
‘Good. My heart stopped for a second there, as I thought you were going to say you were heading back home. The timetable to get this finished is rather tight and it’s going to need two people to get it done.’
‘How long do we have?’
‘Three weeks.’
As I mix up the first lot of mortar for today, I look up at him.
‘You can count on me and if you think that’s long enough to get it done, then I’m sure we can do it.’
He swipes his arm across his forehead, wiping away some little drops of perspiration. Even with the door and windows wide open, it’s stuffy in here today.
‘Five days in a villa in Cannes is too good to turn down. Jack’s family are loaded and it’s an offer I can accept without feeling awkward. He owes me a few favours. It isn’t just a free holiday, it’s also a reunion with a group of friends from my uni days.’
‘What did you study?’
Well this is a surprise.
‘Architecture at Greenwich University but I dropped out. As I said, I’m the black sheep of the family.’
He comes to an abrupt halt and heads for the door. I’m left with no clues at all about what went wrong.
By the middle of the afternoon I’m sitting cross-legged on the floor on a cushion and making good progress. There are only three rows left to do and as I peer up at the wall above me, I feel a real sense of satisfaction. I’m almost loath to quit for the day but I’m conscious I can’t be late for Mons
ieur le Maire. When I tell Sam about Monsieur Deniaud’s invitation, he makes me down tools immediately and says he’ll clear up, so obviously it is a big deal.
*
Madame Deniaud ushers us into a large room that looks like a formal study. Two of the walls are lined floor to ceiling with books and it has that distinct smell of aged paper and well-worn leather. Monsieur le Maire rises from behind a huge, dark oak desk and walks towards us. He shakes hands with Dad, patting him on the back and then we air kiss and I turn my cheek three times.
‘Bonjour, welcome. Sit, please, sit.’
He nods to his wife, exchanging a smile.
‘Merci, ma chère. Nous vous rejoindrons dans le salon en une demi-heure.’
Half an hour? So, this isn’t going to be a five minute chat before we have tea, then.
‘Monsieur le Maire, it is very kind of you to agree to talk to me. I wish my French was more fluent.’
‘Is not a problem. Your father has told me about the find. Can I take a look at it?’
His accent is thick but his words are clear and well formed. I pull the small box from my bag and place it on the desk in front of him. Sam managed to sand down the inside edges of the lid so that it now fits quite snugly.
‘Ah, merveilleux! This is old. And valuable. How can I help, Anna?’
Dad leans in to give my hand a reassuring squeeze, as I consider how I’m going to phrase my question.
‘Madame Allard told me what little she knew about Tony and Yvette Waverley, who lived at Le Manoir d’Orsenne before Monsieur Allard purchased it at auction. I wondered if you knew whether they went back to the UK and what happened to Thomas, the young boy who came to live with them? Madame Allard said he disappeared, quite suddenly, shortly before they departed.’
Monsieur le Maire is sitting with his elbows on the desk and his fingers locked, resting against his chin. He’s a tall man, probably in his sixties with a wiry build. His demeanour and general manner command respect. So much so, that I feel I should weigh up every single word I say, for fear of saying the wrong thing.