by Karen Klyne
Your loving mother xx
Without hesitation, she replied. Mother, that sounds perfect. I’d love to come. Kim xx
An hour later she received another email. Darling, it’s booked. I’ll forward the documents to you. I’ll meet you in arrivals. I can hardly wait. This is the best Christmas present. Ever. With love, Mother. xx
She wrote a quick acknowledgement and then it hit her. She was going to see her mum, and it was incredibly hard to imagine how all this had come about. It was really thanks to Phil. She’d gently pushed her into writing. Phil. Oh God. When she said her name, she burst into tears.
When the tears eventually stemmed, she thought about what she’d done. It seemed that every time she had a problem, she got on a plane and ran to someone else. Wasn’t she capable of dealing with trauma on her own? Perhaps not, and certainly not where relationships were concerned. At least this problem would hopefully bring her and her mum together. It wouldn’t all be in vain. Right now, all she was feeling was pain. How could everything have gone so wrong?
Chapter Nineteen
When Phil looked in the mirror, she recoiled. Was this really her? Whatever she looked like, she had to go into work. Just two days to go and she could get away, preferably as far away as possible. Right now, she had an obligation to Farrell and Young, and in particular to Alan.
As soon as Phil entered the office, Carole and Abby got up and hugged her.
Carole put a hand on Phil’s shoulder. “Thanks so much for our presents. It was so generous of you.”
Phil managed a smile. “You’re welcome.”
Carole didn’t ask her if she’d had a good Christmas. She guessed it showed on her face that something had gone drastically wrong. She headed for her office, and Abby shouted that she’d get her a coffee.
“Thanks, Abby.” She turned around. “When Alan comes in, can you tell him I’d like a word, please?”
Carole nodded. Shortly after, Abby brought in her coffee, along with a sympathetic smile. Phil saw a shadow hovering at the door. Alan knocked and entered carrying her another mug of coffee.
He placed it down in front of her. “Your latte, madam.” He laughed. “I believe I’ve been summoned?”
“Hi, Alan. I just wanted to know if you’d mind me taking an extra day holiday next week.”
“Of course not. You don’t have to ask. You’re a partner in the firm. Are you going somewhere nice?”
“I’m going to stay with some friends. I’ll be fresh when I get back. Everything’s up to date with the auction, and there are more bookings for viewings in January.”
“Wonderful. You seem to have everything organised, as per usual.” He stared at Phil for a while. “Are you okay?”
“Fine.” She didn’t think Alan believed her. In theory, he should be happy, but instead, he looked sad. Such was life.
She wasn’t sure how she kept it together for the remainder of the day, but she did. She tidied up her desk, picked up her laptop bag, and threw it over her shoulder. She walked to the door, pulled it open, and then she turned around. She’d have to face this again, but maybe not for long. She grimaced and closed the door firmly behind her.
***
Kim carefully packed the small case that Phil had arrived with on Christmas Eve. The present from Phil was on the top. She took one last look at it, thinking about what could have been. She stared at the crystal gavel. She packed that too. She didn’t want it. She’d only stare at it and think of Phil. Right now she’d like to ram it down her throat.
She drove up to the Pheasant and banged on the door. Eventually, Jan opened it and beckoned her in.
Jan looked at the case. “Are you going somewhere?” She stared long and hard at Kim. “What’s wrong? You look dreadful.”
Kim didn’t want to tell Jan the truth. She didn’t want any words of wisdom. She just wanted to get away. The last two days had been agony. She’d vacillated between calling Phil and trying to work things out to wanting to hide and avoid her at all costs. Hiding out had won. There was no more to be said. “Can you do me a favour? Will you drop Phil’s case off at her office?”
Jan raised an eyebrow but nodded. “Of course. Can I help with anything else?”
“No, thanks.” Kim smiled. “I’m off to Paris later. I’m going to see Mum.”
Jan pulled her into a hug. “That’s marvellous. I always hoped you would one day. I didn’t know your mum well. But from what I remember, she was lovely, a real free spirit. You are coming back, aren’t you? I know that sounds rather selfish, but I can’t wait for us to get back to work.”
Kim kissed her on the cheek. “I’ll be back, don’t you worry.”
When Kim boarded the plane, her shoulders dropped and some of the tension left her neck. She closed her eyes, and when she opened them, they were about to make their descent into Charles de Gaulle. She collected her suitcase from the carousel and walked through into the arrivals. She was both nervous and excited. She straightened up and took a deep breath. She hadn’t seen her mother for over two decades, but she had photographs and recognised her immediately. Her mum waved and dashed forward through the crowd. They both seemed to push people out of the way until they made a physical connection. There were tears of joy as Kim’s mum swung her around and around. Eventually, her mum let her go and took her hand.
“Let’s go home.”
They only made small talk in the taxi, like her journey, the landing, and the weather, but Kim was sure with even just those few words, they’d already bonded once again. This was her mum.
When the taxi pulled up, there was just enough daylight to see the mansion in all its glory. Kim gasped. “Wow!”
“Darling, it’s not all ours. But it is beautiful, and I’ve always loved it. It’s nice in as much as we can escape from each other, because it’s on three levels.”
“Is this district Saint Germain?”
Her mum nodded. Kim’s eyes widened. This area was one of the most desirable districts in Paris. They walked up the steps to the entrance door which was spectacularly ornate and entered a vast, elegant hall. Kim tipped her head back and slowly spun around. “They’re a bit like the frescos in the Sistine Chapel.”
“Yes, I do believe it was based on Renaissance art.” Her mum took her hand. “Come. I’ll show you our apartment.”
When they got inside, Kim was stunned into silence by its magnificence. The décor was super modern, which was surprising given the age of the building. The large reception room seemed bigger than her entire house. A door led into a vast library which was chock-a-block with books from floor to ceiling. Heaven. She was going to have a ball. They walked through another door. Her mum called it a kitchen, but it was actually an upscale kitchen, a large dining area, and a sitting room. “Geez. I can’t wait to see the bedrooms.”
Her mum took Kim’s suitcase, and she followed her up a winding staircase. Each of the bedrooms were more like suites. She opened the door to one of the rooms.
“I hope this will be okay for you?”
“Okay? It’s unbelievable. Boy, it’s even got a sunken bath.” Kim gasped. “I knew that engineers and architects were well paid, but I obviously chose the wrong profession.”
Her mum laughed. “We survive nicely. But the apartment belonged to Pierre’s great, great grandmother. It’s been passed down through the generations, and at the moment, we’re the lucky ones. Fortunately, Pierre doesn’t have siblings, otherwise we’d be doing a timeshare or something similar. When we can no longer live here, it’ll be passed on to his daughter, Danique. It’s a family heirloom, and it was written in the property deed.”
“It must be worth an absolute––”
“Fortune, yes. I can’t remember how many millions it’s valued at now.”
Kim laughed. “Bloody hell. If I’d known, I’d have been in touch sooner.” It was only a joke but seeing her mum made her realise that she’d left this reunion much too long.
“Better late than never, darling.”
“Another sitting room overlooking the river and another bedroom. We hardly ever use it, unless we have guests. I’d have given it to you, but as Pierre’s away, I thought it would be cosier if you were in the next room to me.”
Kim touched her mum’s hand. “I’d like that.”
“If you want to freshen up, go ahead. I’ll be downstairs. I’ve prepared a meal for tonight. I thought we could use the time to get to know one another again.”
Kim pecked her mum on the cheek. “Great. I’ll see you shortly.” She freshened up, changed her clothes, and sat on the bed. Already her head felt lighter, and her mood had lifted. It was a strange feeling being with her mum. It was like they’d been close all her life, and yet they hadn’t seen each other for so many years. She was beginning to regret leaving it for so long, but maybe it wouldn’t have worked out so well if her father had been alive. She had a feeling that her dad wouldn’t have taken their meeting well. He’d think she’d chosen her mum over him. No. It was better this way. Timing was everything.
She went downstairs, and her mum shouted her from the kitchen. She looked quite domesticated and had an apron on. She couldn’t ever remember seeing her mum in an apron. A bottle of white wine sat on the kitchen island, and her mum poured some into two glasses.
She passed one to Kim and lifted her glass. “Here’s to our future.”
Kim chinked her glass. “The future.” She laughed. “Do you know, I can’t ever recall seeing you in the kitchen.”
She laughed. “It’s still true. My friend and neighbour, Adele, cooked this and gave me instructions on how to reheat it. This is my limit, apart from coffee and croissants. Whenever we do eat in, Pierre does the cooking and luckily, we have some excellent delis that cook to order. We also eat out a lot. Most Parisiennes do.”
Kim smiled. “Sounds like Paris was the answer to your prayers.”
Her mum shrugged. “Almost. Anyway, let’s eat.”
Over dinner, they didn’t touch on anything too personal. Kim filled her in on her new job and house, and her mum told her about her life in Paris. It was like getting reacquainted with an old friend, though the unanswered questions still hung between them like a clock waiting to toll.
They finished the last of the wine, and Kim laid her napkin down on the table. “My compliments to your friend. That beef ragu was delicious.”
“You can pass them on yourself. I hope you don’t mind, I said we’d pop in and see the New Year in. I’d love for you to meet my friends.”
“I’d like that too.” Her husband, her friends? She’d missed so much.
“You look tired. I think we both need an early night.”
Kim agreed, and after clearing up she made her way up to her bedroom. She prepared for bed, put the side light on, switched off the overhead lights, and got under her duvet. Her mother came in. She pulled the shutters and drew the curtains. She sat on her bed and tucked her in. Somewhere in her past, she remembered her mother doing this. When was it? She couldn’t remember.
Her mum kissed her on her forehead. “Goodnight, my darling. Sleep tight. Don’t let the bed bugs bite.”
Kim smiled. She remembered those words too, but they were from a lifetime ago. She closed her eyes and forced away thoughts of Phil, of Cauthwell, of a love that had slipped through her fingers. Tonight she just needed the peace afforded by sleep. Tomorrow she could fall back into the fresh loss.
***
She opened her eyes. Where was she? Tranquillity flooded through her veins. She was in a safe place. She was with her mum.
There was a tap on the door, and her mum came in with a tray. She placed it on the bedside table and then opened the curtains and the shutters. Sunshine streamed through the window.
“It’s going to be a beautiful day. Shall we take a river cruise?”
“I’d love to. Before that, can you show me how to operate that bloody shower?”
It proved to be simple. It just looked complicated with all the knobs and buttons. When she got downstairs feeling refreshed, her mother had heated some croissants. They smelled fresh as though they’d just been baked. Kim cut one open and lathered blueberry jam on either side. She took a sip of coffee and tucked in.
“You see…I can heat up croissants and provide a tasty jam.”
Kim wiped the pastry from her lips. “Where on earth did I get my love for cooking?”
Her mum laughed. “Not from me or your father. The only interest either of us had in food was eating it.”
“What about further afield in our gene pool?”
Her mum’s eyebrows knitted in a frown. “Your dad’s parents both died young. He was quite a few years older than me, but you did meet them, didn’t you?”
Kim nodded. She’d met them a few times, but they hadn’t inspired her. “What about your parents? How come I never met them?”
Her mum winced. “They weren’t suitable. They wanted to see you, but your father forbade it. He said they’d be a bad influence on you.”
Kim snorted. “You’re kidding?”
“I’m not. Granted, they are a little unusual. I’d describe them as bohemian. They lived in Paris, but now they live in Goa.”
“Goa as in India?”
Her mum nodded. “Yes. That one.”
Kim laughed. “Bloody hell.”
Her mum reached over and took her hand. “Perhaps we could go there one day?”
“Do you see them?”
Her mum leaned back in her chair. “Of course. I see them every year. They live in a sort of commune.”
“Wow, this is getting better by the minute.”
“Yes, there’s a lot to fill you in on.” Her mum looked at her watch. “In the meantime, we’d better get a move on.”
“Brilliant. I’ll just go and get my jacket.”
They boarded their boat and managed to get a window seat, although the whole of the roof was clear glass so the view from anywhere would have been great.
She’d been to Paris before but never viewed the sites from the Seine. They swept past a parade of monuments which were followed by the spires of Notre Dame Cathedral. They talked about the general history of Paris and chit chatted along the way. She’d had a brief trip on the Seine many years ago but was still impressed by the grandeur of the river. They entered the canal Saint Martin, and the first section took them through an eerily lit tunnel which passed under the Place de la Bastille. They emerged through the tunnel to discover the canal Saint Martin’s three miles of pure poetry, the most romantic boulevard in Paris.
Her mum pointed to the reflections on the water, the old saw bridges, half-moon foot bridges, and an abundant foliage of horse-chestnut trees. “It’s a side of Paris most tourists don’t see.”
Kim nodded. “I feel extremely privileged.” And she was happy to be seeing this with her mother, though her heart ached as she realized she’d never share the experience with Phil.
They departed the boat at Parc de la Villette and strolled around the gardens.
Her mum tucked her hand in the crook of Kim’s arm. “Are you hungry?”
Kim smiled. “You bet.”
She guided her down a side street and headed for a small café on the corner. “Do you like moules marinière? Because if so, they’re the best in Paris, in fact, possibly in all of Europe.”
“I bow to your knowledge.” They didn’t disappoint. She served this dish regularly, but hers never tasted as good as these. Maybe they used different herbs, or perhaps it was just the ambiance. They shared a long baguette, and Kim wiped up every morsel of juice with her remaining bread. She looked up, and her mum was laughing.
“You’re more French than I ever imagined. Why don’t you come and live here?”
She cocked her head to one side. “I can’t, but I’d certainly like to visit more often.”
Her mum’
s smile lit up the room. “Good. That’s second best.”
They returned to the apartment, and whilst her mum dealt with her mail, Kim stretched out and tried to read a book, though thoughts of her final fight with Phil continued to plague her. Later, they walked to a small pizzeria. Her mum told her it was truly authentic and run by an old Italian family. They both ordered a pizza with a fruits de mer topping and a glass of wine.
“Chin, chin.” Her mum said. “Do you remember when you first visited Paris?”
“I do. It was school trip, but you weren’t around then.”
“I may not have been around, but I did have some input. Your father phoned me, and he wasn’t in favour of you going. I persuaded him and said it would be good for your education. I wanted you to stay here with me, but he wouldn’t hear of it, so you stayed with a host family. I asked him if I could see you, but he refused outright. It wouldn’t do you any good and would only serve to confuse you, he said, and that I should be content just knowing you were in Paris.”
Kim frowned. “God. I didn’t know any of this.” It was strange. She’d never envisaged her mother having any interest in her whatsoever. Why hadn’t her father told her? She supposed he’d had her best interests at heart. But…
“Anyway, I wasn’t content, so I followed you around and watched you from a distance.”
Kim couldn’t believe it. “I never even knew you were interested.”
“No, I think that was the general idea. That was my punishment for leaving.”
Kim reached across the table and took her mum’s hand. “I’m so sorry.”
“It wasn’t your fault. However, I was right. You fell in love with everything French. In fact, didn’t you also fall in love with a French boy?”
Kim wrinkled her brow, thinking back. “You’re right. It was the host family’s son, Andre. I had a real crush on him. How fickle. I’d almost forgotten about poor Andre. Mind you, I also fell in love with Montmartre. I remember telling Dad that I wanted to become an artist.”