by Lucy Coleman
It’s a reprimand and I realise I was thinking aloud and that was wrong of me. Some things are better off left unsaid.
‘Sorry, that slipped out without thinking.’
‘Well, as we’re being personal can I ask about this ex of yours? Has he gone quiet now?’
Oh, I guess I can’t really dodge this one and I know he’s trying to make a point here.
‘Yes. I think it’s finally sinking in that I’ve moved on. Although in practice he was the one who put our relationship on hold.’
I have a feeling Sam isn’t going to settle for that as an explanation and I’m right.
‘Why would he do that?’
I run my left hand through my hair, tucking a few strands behind my ear – a sure sign that I’m uncomfortable. But Sam could be the sounding board I need. Even Lizzie isn’t impartial, as Karl charmed her from the moment I introduced them. And Mum and Dad, well, will anyone ever be good enough for their only daughter?
‘It’s a long story.’
‘You have my undivided attention. I’m a captive audience for the next hour at least.’
I sigh, leaning my head against the window as I continue to stare straight ahead. I don’t want to get emotional and yet, even now, it still hurts to acknowledge that for the second time in my life I made myself so stupidly vulnerable.
‘Karl says he loves me and yet his career always comes first. He was my boss and we had to lie about our relationship as I was a member of his team. Contractually that wasn’t allowed. So even when we began seeing each other it was never going to be a normal sort of relationship. In private we became very close but it didn’t seem real somehow, having to conduct our relationship behind closed doors. At work, we were dynamic together; people could see that and then the rumours started to circulate.’
‘Couldn’t you just have owned up to it and maybe worked with another team, instead?’
I sigh, emptying my lungs and feeling as deflated physically as I do mentally about the situation.
‘Karl is no fool. He needed someone with sound organisational skills who would help pull his team together. There are times when he can be difficult to work with, prone to losing his temper if things go wrong. He’s charming when he wants to be but he has a tendency to talk to management very differently than he does to his staff. He used me to get where he wanted to be: in control of a team that was the envy of the organisation because we pulled together and he succeeded. He was given a big promotion and I was asked to step up and be his deputy.’
Sam frowns, but he doesn’t reply.
‘The question came up about the company’s no fraternisation policy. He denied any personal connection whatsoever between us as if our relationship meant nothing at all to him. I blurted it out and ended up resigning. He told his boss he was simply protecting me. Afterwards he said we could pick back up where we left off at a later date.’
Sam emits a scandalised, ‘Huh! Unbelievable! No wonder you walked away.’
‘At first it hurt, then I realised that I’d been fooling myself from day one. Karl is charming and his commitment is an inspiration, but his focus never wavers and work is always number one on his agenda.’
‘I hate to say this, but that’s sort of how I perceive you.’
Well, that feels like a bit of a slap in the face! Sam pulls the car into a lay-by, turning off the engine. He reaches onto the back seat to get a couple of bottles of water.
‘Here you go.’ I take the bottle and he grabs his phone. ‘I’ll check the satnav quickly before we go any further as I’m not sure where we need to turn off. I wasn’t trying to be offensive with that remark, but it’s true. You come across as being very focused and knowing exactly where you are going and what you want to achieve in life. What I can’t understand is how you could get yourself into that sort of situation in the first place. It doesn’t seem to make any sense.’
I gulp and it isn’t just to ease the water down my now dry throat.
‘I was confused.’
He looks at me and raises both eyebrows in surprise. ‘You were confused? About what? The motives of a man who doesn’t want the world to know he’s in love with you?’
‘Now who’s the one analysing every little thing? You don’t understand the situation we were in and Karl is a man who is going somewhere. It was a sacrifice for us. I thought I wanted to settle down and now I find that isn’t the case at all. It was a momentary aberration.’
He smiles, but I can tell he is suppressing a laugh. ‘Ah, tall, dark and handsome, was he?’
I’m so furious with him that I open the door and climb out, walking around to the rear of the car. He makes no attempt to follow and when curiosity gets the better of me I peer inside and see he’s still looking at the satnav on his phone. I wait for a few minutes until I’m more composed before sliding back into the passenger seat.
‘Second turning on the right and then it’s only about two kilometres from that point. Are we ready to go?’
He acts as if nothing has happened and I go along with it for the sake of keeping the peace. I don’t know what I was expecting anyway, as Sam isn’t someone whose judgement I’d trust because, let’s face it, I hardly know him. And it’s becoming abundantly clear that he finds my lifestyle choices almost as bizarre as I find his.
We end up driving around in circles for a while before we realise we’ve passed the house several times. It turns out to be a cottage in the grounds of a church. As Sam pulls into the car park there are quite a few people milling around and it’s obvious there has been some sort of service or celebration going on in the church.
There is a gate set into the car park wall and beyond that a path that leads up to the cottage. It’s very pretty and very old. As we’re walking along in single file, a voice calls out from behind us.
‘Bonjour. Puis-je vous aider?’
We turn and the older woman who is walking towards us has a pleasant smile on her face.
‘Bonjour, Madame. Sam Callaghan et Anna Lacey. Nous recherchons Elise Moreau.’
She stares at Sam in surprise, before glancing in my direction.
‘Ah, English. I am Elise Moreau. How can I be of help?’
Sam indicates for me to take over the conversation.
‘We have come from Saint-Julien-de-Vouvantes. My parents now own Le Manoir d’Orsenne, Madame Honorine Allard told us that you used to teach Thomas Parker-Laurent. We are trying to trace him, so we can return what we believe to be some jewellery belonging to his late mother.’
Her smile disappears for a moment as if she’s recalling some memory from the past that invokes sadness. Then she nods and walks ahead of us in the direction of the front door, indicating for us to follow her. The house is very comfortably furnished with dark wooden furniture which has that wonderful patina only age can lend it. The pieces have probably been handed down from generation to generation. The general décor though is light and bright, giving the old stone cottage a warm feel.
We follow Elise into the kitchen and she pulls out two heavy, rustic chairs from around a long, dark oak table.
‘Please, sit. I’m sorry but I have only a few minutes. Today is a special celebration and there is a party. I came away only to fetch the cake. It has been quite a few years since I last saw Thomas so I’m not sure how I can be of help.’
Sam and I exchange a brief glance of disappointment, but if we can obtain any information at all about Thomas’ story that will make this trip worthwhile.
‘Honorine said that you knew Thomas’ mother well? I wonder if you have ever seen this before?’
I pull the jewellery box out of my handbag and as Elise reaches out to touch it a brief ‘Ahh—’ escapes her lips.
‘Yes, it was given to Thomas after his mother died. Where did you find it? It was the boy’s treasure and he must miss it so. That and a few photos were all he had to remind himself of her.’
She doesn’t open the box but holds it within her hands, as if it’s a delicate object and no
t a sturdy wooden box.
‘My parents have recently renovated Le Manoir d’Orsenne and we found this hidden in a stone wall in one of the outbuildings. All we know is that since leaving the village, Thomas studied at Toulouse and is now a vet. His story is an unusual one and we would be grateful for anything at all you can tell us that might help us discover his whereabouts.’
Elise places the box on the table and lowers herself onto the chair next to me.
‘Such a sad story. Michelle Laurent, Thomas’ mother, and I grew up in Lyon. We went to school together and remained good friends, even when our paths went in different directions. I met my husband and we moved to Saint-Julien-de-Vouvantes shortly after we were married. Michelle was in London at that time and had just become engaged to Richard Parker. Her life was a whirlwind and so very different to the life she’d had before. She was so happy when she found out she was having a son but after Thomas was born she wrote to me to say she longed to come home. As Richard’s business interests grew she was not happy and she complained he was always working. She longed for her son to have the sort of childhood she’d had.’
Elise lowers her head for a moment and as I look across at Sam he shakes his head to discourage me from speaking.
‘People assumed having a big house in London and a successful husband to provide for her meant she was happy. But in her heart, she longed for her son to be brought up in France. Thomas was six years old when she was diagnosed with breast cancer. She had treatment and was constantly back and forth to hospital. I think by then she knew it was a battle she wasn’t going to win and that she was not long for this world. But it wasn’t until the very end of her illness that she told Richard of her wishes.’
Hearing this, and the catch in her voice as she talks, makes me think of that small boy and the way his life changed virtually overnight.
‘Is that why his aunt and uncle moved to Le Manoir d’Orsenne?’
‘Yes,’ Elise nods in confirmation. ‘Richard was intent on honouring his wife’s wishes, even in his grief. I have no doubt he would have preferred to keep his son by his side. But he knew that was not practical. He was away on business frequently and I can imagine that the house no longer felt like a home without Michelle’s presence. When he contacted me, of course I agreed to help him. Michelle’s sister, Yvette, and her husband, Tony, said they would look after Thomas, and Richard purchased the house for them. I was teaching at the local school and it was very convenient. The arrangement was that I would school him at home and keep Richard updated on his progress and well-being. However, Yvette became a very jealous and bitter woman as the years passed. Unable to have children of her own and feeling that her life in general could have been better, she became cold and unloving.
‘Little Thomas, well, he grew close to Honorine as she gave him the love his aunt seemed unable, or unwilling, to give. Tony was good with the boy, though, and I was there not just to teach him but to talk to him about his mother. I tried to help him hold onto what memories he had of her and we talked a lot about her childhood. He was a loving boy and people took to him easily. You say he is now a vet? Ah, I’m not surprised. Even as a child he was drawn to animals. He was a good boy, always, but our paths never crossed again after his father took him away.’
She glances up at the clock on the mantelpiece above the original kitchen fireplace and Sam stands.
‘We appreciate your time, Madame. And thank you. Every little piece of information we can gather helps and we won’t give up on our search.’
I swallow hard, trying to dispel the lump in my throat. It seems that Thomas touched the heart of everyone who knew him.
‘Thank you. Hearing that makes it even more vital that we find Thomas and return this.’
I put the little box back into my handbag and offer my hand to Elise. We shake and as we do she looks deep into my eyes, a frown creasing her brow.
‘Thomas’ father’s business had become very successful almost overnight and he had to be based in London. His visits were rare, although they kept in touch by phone, but that hurt Thomas a little. I think the truth was that Richard never recovered from his loss because he didn’t have time to grieve. He never lost interest in the boy but it was a difficult situation.’
I place both of my hands over hers and nod, momentarily unable to speak.
‘Of course, Madame.’ Sam answers on my behalf and Elise turns to lead us out.
As Sam and I head back towards the car we exchange a brief glance as I try to shake off my sadness.
‘That’s quite a picture building up of this Thomas. All the women around him, except for his aunt, seemed to want to mother him and his uncle was the only male influence active in his life at quite an impressionable time.’
I frown. ‘I know; it’s so sad.’
‘No wonder he reached out to Honorine and she must have felt that they had a very special relationship.’
What child wouldn’t crave love when his mother was no longer there for him? The boy must have felt he had been abandoned in his hour of greatest need and maybe his father couldn’t see that. He’d honoured his wife’s wishes and had done everything he could to provide for Thomas; but my heart feels heavy knowing that an eight year old boy wouldn’t have understood the complexities of the situation.
The Surprise
Heading back in the car we are both feeling a little subdued. After a few kilometres, it’s Sam who finally breaks the cold silence between us.
‘This is turning out to be some story, isn’t it?’
I don’t respond.
‘Look, earlier on I think maybe I was being a little unfair to you. Hearing what Elise had to say reminds me that everyone’s situation is different and it’s easy when you’re not affected by something to make a quick judgement. I was out of order questioning you about Karl. Anyway, perhaps you and I can stop judging each other and throw our energy into tracking down Saint Thomas.’
I give him a friendly scowl, but I’m relieved and more than a little surprised by his peace offering. And his attempt at injecting a little humour.
‘I think that’s a great idea, Sam. Somehow the more we discover, the more important it becomes to do this. I can’t find anything online about a Thomas Parker-Laurent, or even a Thomas Waverley, but I did find a Richard Parker who had a son named Thomas. He’s the managing director of Joie de Vivre International and there’s a lot about him online. What’s rather strange is that Elise didn’t offer any information about him. She must know that would be our quickest option, unless she didn’t think he would necessarily know of Thomas’ whereabouts. Or maybe he’s not the easiest person to talk to.’
‘I was thinking the exact same thing. And I’m surprised that Honorine didn’t seem to know more about Richard Parker, either. It’s not exactly an unusual name, so how can you be sure you have pinpointed the right guy?’
I find myself absentmindedly chewing my lip as I admit to Sam what I discovered.
‘I found an interview he did shortly after his wife died, so I know he’s the right one. I was just surprised to discover he’s the man behind Joie de Vivre. I mean, jewellery and perfume, who would have guessed?’
Sam seems as shocked as I am and I’m a little surprised he even recognises the company name.
‘What?’ He glances sideways at me, wondering why I’m surprised. ‘You think I’ve never bought jewellery or perfume as a gift?’
I hesitate; assuming he wouldn’t recognise a designer brand was rather rude of me and I need to get myself out of this one quickly.
‘Sorry, I was surprised myself when I made the connection and I thought you would be, too.’
‘If you’re correct, that is.’
I nod. ‘That’s why I think none of them have had anything to do with Thomas’ father. I seriously doubt he’d be on the other end of that phone number, anyway. It will be answered by some PA or assistant and it will be hard to get to talk to the man himself. I also wonder if there was a reason why it was more convenient
to let people think Thomas was a Waverley. Maybe his father felt he was safer having complete anonymity. There are some ruthless people out there and he was at a very vulnerable age. Imagine the horror if Thomas had been taken and held for ransom? It’s not beyond the realms of imagination when the death of his mother would have been covered in the tabloids, no doubt.’
I sit back, allowing the head rest to ease some of the tension in my neck.
‘Sorry, Anna. I’ve been a bit off again today and you’re just trying to do the right thing. Look, all we’re getting is snippets of information about Thomas’ childhood and what we really need is to find someone more likely to know his whereabouts now. If he’s a practising vet and still living in France, then maybe we can track him down via that connection and take it from there.’
Now I feel guilty because I know I have this tendency to become preoccupied with an idea. As an obsessive starter/finisher I hate giving up on anything.
‘Thanks, Sam. I really do appreciate everything you’ve done. Teaching me some new skills and being patient as I learn. Helping my parents means turning other work away. And now, letting me drag you into something that might be going nowhere fast. Maybe Thomas isn’t the only saint around here.’
That makes him laugh and the tension between us dissipates once more. Why is there this sense of friction between us that is always so close to the surface?
‘Me? A saint? Ha! Ha! No one has ever called me that before. Not even my dear mother. In case you haven’t noticed, not a lot happens around here and you’ve turned into a distraction.’
He reaches forward to turn on the radio and I get the message that the conversation is over. So, I’m a distraction… but from what? He says he’s content with his life as it is but I don’t believe this quiet life is enough for him, even if that’s what he’s telling himself. Why else would he offer his time to help me search for clues about Thomas’ whereabouts?
I let the music clear my head of thoughts and the rest of the journey passes quite pleasantly. When we arrive back at Le Manoir d’Orsenne Mum greets us, saying she hoped we’d be back in time for lunch. Sam doesn’t really get a chance to decline as we’re immediately enlisted to carry trays of crockery and glasses out into the garden.