Finding Mother Page 7

  Nicole shook her head. ‘No, I’m not, but it’s hard not to remember the good times we had. And I do get lonely,’ she sighed.

  Susie’s face softened.

  ‘I know, I know. But just hang on in there, my girl, and everything will work out fine. Auntie Susie says so.’

  Nicole smiled. ‘Well, if Auntie Susie says so, who am I to disagree?’

  Later that day, just as Nicole was wondering what to make for supper, the phone rang. Thinking it was Susie for another chat she picked it up, laughing, ‘Miss me already do you?’

  ‘Yes, you know I do, darling,’ answered Tom.

  ‘Oh!’ Gripping the phone she sat down heavily on the nearest chair. ‘Hello, Tom. What do you want?’

  ‘Well, that’s not very welcoming is it? And who were you expecting it to be, a new boyfriend?’ His tone hardened.

  ‘I thought it was Susie, not that it’s any of your business. We agreed minimal contact so that I could make a decision without any pressure. You’re just making it harder – ’

  ‘Nicole, please listen! I just wanted to know if you’ve found your mother.’

  ‘Mm, yes I have. I’ve just been over to see her in Guernsey. And her mother, my…grandmother.’

  ‘Wow! That’s great. I’m so pleased for you. Really I am. It’s what you set out to do when we had that… row.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Does that mean that you might be willing for us to meet up? I know we agreed not to meet unless you wanted, but I really need you to know how much I’ve changed –’

  ‘Perhaps you have and perhaps you haven’t. I’m not going to take your word for that.’ Nicole began to feel angry. ‘Look, I’ve got a lot of stuff to deal with and we’re only half-way through the agreed six months’ separation –’

  ‘But –’

  ‘No, Tom. Please leave me in peace while I sort my head out. Bye.’ Nicole’s heart was beating fast as she switched off the phone. Susie’s words had been echoing in her mind throughout the call – ‘Everything will work out fine.’ She had to believe her friend was right, but it hurt, it really hurt. The tears seeped through her lashes, leaving trails of mascara down her cheeks. Damn the man! She reached for a tissue and a glass of wine. Does he really think that just ’cos I’ve found my mother that all can be hunky-dory again? It doesn’t change anything between us. And even if he has changed, do I want to go back to him? She couldn’t trust herself to answer that. Not yet.

  chapter 13

  Nicole thought long and hard about whether to return to Guernsey. Part of her felt she was stirring up feelings that she didn’t want to acknowledge. Like, did she really want to be associated with these people who were little more than strangers and had such a different background to herself? At least she knew where she was with Mary and Ian, she’d known them all her life, had shared history. Understood each other. And were definitely becoming warmer in their old age, she thought wryly. Perhaps she should just walk away from the Ferbraches, put it down to experience, she’d been there and not bought the T-shirt. It would be easier, she wouldn’t have to look at herself, see herself reflected in these other women. Then another part of her kicked in. The journalist part, wanting to know more, get the full picture. Even if it was unpalatable. She sat curled up on the sofa nursing a glass of wine, feeling as if the outcome was inevitable. The enquiring journalist always won in the end. With a sigh, she picked up the phone.

  ‘Hi Hélène, it’s me, Nicole. About my visit…’

  A few days later she collected a hire car at Guernsey airport. They’d agreed to an open-ended stay, giving her the option to leave whenever she chose. That didn’t make it much easier, she thought, throwing her case into the boot. Still feels like entering the dragon’s den. Nicole reminded herself that she was a successful media journalist who had interviewed big name celebrities so why was it so hard to get to know her own mother and grandmother? She smiled at the idea. C’mon girl, go for it! They won’t bite.

  Feeling better, she swung the car out onto Rue des Landes before turning left into New Road and the winding road to Torteval. It didn’t seem long before she turned off the main road and along the lane to La Folie. The gothic structure, perched loftily on the cliff, was aptly named. A rich man’s folly indeed! She still couldn’t quite believe that the imposing granite building really belonged to her grandmother and longed to learn how it had come into the family.

  Perhaps it was the crunching on the gravel as Nicole drew the car to a halt, but something must have alerted Hélène, for she opened the door before Nicole had switched off the engine.

  ‘Nicole! I’m so glad to see you again. I do hope you’ll enjoy your stay with us.’ Hélène’s smile looked uncertain, as if she wasn’t sure how this visit would turn out.

  ‘I hope so too. We’ve got so much to talk about; a lot of catching up.’

  They hugged awkwardly before Hélène grabbed Nicole’s case, insisting on taking it in for her.

  ‘I’ll take you straight up to your room so you can settle in. Mother’s having her nap so I thought we could meet up for tea later. Till then you might like to explore the garden or go for a walk.’

  They were ascending the ornate staircase and through the landing window Nicole caught a glimpse of the garden and beyond the sea sparkled in the distance.

  ‘I’d love to. Is there a cliff path?’

  ‘Yes, it follows right round towards St Peter Port to the left and Portelet Harbour to the right. It takes several hours to follow it all. Personally, I enjoy walking towards Portelet where it’s more woody.’

  Good, I’ll be able to go for a long walk if I need to escape!

  They were now faced with numerous panelled oak doors leading off the landing in different directions. The green painted walls were adorned with what appeared to be local landscapes. Faded Indian runners stretched along the wooden floor, softening their footsteps.

  ‘I could get lost here,’ Nicole remarked.

  ‘As a little girl I was always getting lost,’ Hélène chuckled. ‘In the end my mother tied a little bell around my wrist so that she could find me. Like a miniature cow-bell.’

  Nicole grinned. ‘Sounds fun! Have you still got it in case I need it?’

  Hélène laughed.

  ‘I’m sure you have a better sense of direction than I had at four! Not many of the rooms are in use now, with just the two of us. We have a lady who comes in a couple of times a week to “do”. Otherwise it’s down to me.’ Hélène pulled a face and Nicole nodded in sympathy.

  ‘So, here we are. This is the room we’ve kept in reasonable order for guests, though to be honest I can’t remember the last time we had anyone stay. Hope you find it comfortable.’

  Hélène opened a door at the end of a corridor and Nicole stepped into a pretty, though somewhat shabby, room big enough for a family of four. The centrepiece was a half-tester mahogany bed, adorned with a floral bedspread and valance. The walls were covered in matching wallpaper and the two bay windows were hung with velvet curtains which had definitely seen better days. A pale Chinese rug lay spread at the foot of the bed.

  ‘Oh, this is lovely, thank you. And it’s so big!’ She spread her arms out and spun round.

  Hélène smiled, looking pleased.

  Nicole stepped across to a window and gasped.

  ‘Hey, this view is awesome! I can see why someone wanted to build a house here. Although something smaller would have been just as good,’ she turned and grinned at Hélène, before adding, ‘I think I could just sit here and look at the view all day.’

  They stood together, gazing at the lovely garden surrounded by a low height hedge to avoid blocking out the view. A gate at the far end led onto the cliff path. Beyond this the sea stretched out as far as the eye could see; Nicole made out the outline of an island on the horizon.

  ‘That must be Jersey,’ she turned towards Hélène.

  ‘Yes, it is. Whenever I visited my parents I used to go for a walk on the
cliff and look out to sea and think of you growing up there.’ Hélène sounded wistful and Nicole touched her arm.

  ‘And now here I am. In your home, sharing that amazing view.’

  ‘Yes, strange isn’t it? I never gave up hope but- ’

  ‘I know. If Tom hadn’t…hadn’t betrayed me, I might never have tried to find you.’

  They remained silent, lost in their own thoughts.

  Hélène was first to break the reverie. Clearing her throat, she said ‘I’ll leave you to unpack and freshen up. Fortunately, while my parents still had a thriving business, they added several en-suite bathrooms. Yours is through here,’ pointing to a door. ‘If you’d like to go for a walk the door to the garden’s at the rear of the hall. I’ll be in the kitchen, on the right before the back door. Shall we have tea in an hour?’

  Nicole nodded and watched Hélène leave. It felt good to have some space for herself and she quickly unpacked. A brief look at the bathroom allayed her fears about ancient plumbing. Although it bore the hallmarks of the dreaded 70s taste ˗ avocado suite and psychedelic tiles ˗ it did boast a modern shower over the bath.

  She found her way to the back door and stepped out into the warm summer’s day. The garden really was lovely, she thought, admiring rose bushes heavy with their scented blooms, hollyhocks, alliums with giant heads, oriental poppies and bright sunflowers. Sheltered by the hedges stood fruit trees, their out-spread branches bearing, as yet, little fruit. Probably plums and apples she guessed. An air of neglect hung over the garden, as if no-one had been out to dead-head flowers or weed the beds for some time. Its beauty still shone through and Nicole admired the granite paved terrace on which rested old wrought iron furniture. Mm, nice place to sit in the evenings with a glass of chilled white wine!

  Wandering down towards the gate, she turned round to look at the house and gasped. The rear façade was nothing like the gothic front. Although she could see the round towers at each end – you could hardly miss them! – the rear of the house was traditional early Victorian, with large bow windows on each floor and French windows leading onto the terrace. The massive granite walls were almost hidden behind what looked to be a wisteria, although the flowers had now died away. Nicole could imagine it looked stunning in spring. The back of the house was definitely a big improvement on the front, she thought. In her mind, the small front windows created a forbidding aspect. Perhaps it had been intentional, to put off visitors. The idea amused her.

  She turned round and headed for the cliff path. A slight breeze caught her hair as she struck out to the right. After a few yards she came across a bunker and old gun emplacement. A relic of the German Occupation in the 1940s, according to a nearby sign. Nicole had grown up with the stories of the Occupation and the impact it had had on the islanders. Jersey also bore the imprint of the Jack Boot in the form of bunkers, gun emplacements and underground tunnels to match those of Guernsey. She decided to ask Eve what she remembered from those traumatic times, if the opportunity arose.

  Glancing at her watch she saw it was time to turn back but before doing so, took a last long look along the cliff, her eyes following the contours encircling small bays and outcrops of rock. Another quick glance towards Jersey, hazy on the horizon, and she began retracing her steps towards La Folie. Her grandmother would be ready to meet her and she mentally squared her shoulders in readiness.

  As Nicole entered the kitchen Hélène was setting out plates of cake, cups and saucers on the old trolley. She turned round and smiled.

  ‘Good timing. Mother’s in her sitting-room and I’m just making the tea. Would you like to go in and join her while I finish up here? It’s the room opposite, if you remember.’Nicole nodded but, before she left, glanced quickly around the enormous kitchen. It looked as if designed for the use of several domestic staff, with old-fashioned units around the walls, a deep butler’s sink under the window and a blackened range on which the kettle whistled its completion of duty. Two heavily marked pine tables sat in the middle of the room, accompanied by a number of pine chairs with rush seats. Nicole stepped across the hall to the room she’d entered what seemed a lifetime ago, but was in fact only two weeks.

  Eve sat wrapped up in blankets in her wheelchair by what Nicole now recognised as one of the French windows into the garden. The curtains had been closed on her last visit. The old lady must feel the cold even on a warm day, she thought, moving towards her. Unsure whether to venture a kiss or shake her hand she was hesitating when Eve spoke.

  ‘You can give me a kiss on the cheek. As you’re family.’ Her voice was weaker than last time and as Nicole bent to obey she noticed that her skin looked grey and the hazel eyes had lost their brightness.

  ‘How are you, Mrs Ferbrache? Have you been unwell?’ It felt like kissing tissue paper.

  ‘Just a bit of a cold. Nothing to bother about.’ A fit of coughing belied her words, leaving her struggling to breathe.

  ‘Would you like some water?’ Nicole asked, concerned.

  With an effort Eve replied, ‘No, I’m all right now, thank you. And do you think you could stop calling me “Mrs Ferbrache”? Sounds so formal from my only grandchild!’ Eve peered at Nicole hovering over her.

  Nicole felt surprised but realised Eve was right.

  ‘Would you like me to call you Grandmother? I could as both my…other grandmothers are dead. Won’t be upsetting anyone!’ She smiled at Eve.

  ‘Thank you. I’d never expected to be called that, not knowing –’

  ‘Tea’s ready, Mother. Sorry I took so long.’ Hélène pushed open the door with the trolley. Nicole went to help.

  ‘I thought I heard you coughing, Mother, so I’ve brought your cough mixture.’

  ‘Thank you, just a spoonful.’

  Nicole said, ‘I’ll pour it for you, Grandmother,’ before taking the medicine and spoon to Eve.

  Hélène looked shocked.

  Eve must have seen her daughter’s expression and explained how it had come about.

  ‘Yes, of course. After all, it’s what you are.’ She poured the tea.

  As Nicole sipped her drink she felt as if they’d all reached a new stage in their relationship. Eve had now laid claim to her as her granddaughter. It had felt odd saying “grandmother” again. The last time was when she’d visited her paternal grandmother and she’d never expected to say it again. It felt oddly unsettling.

  The conversation over tea kept to the safe topics of the weather and current affairs. Nicole sensed that there was a truce between Hélène and Eve, who appeared subdued. The grey tinge of her face was slightly improved by tea and chocolate cake.

  Hélène broke into her thoughts.

  ‘The doctor’s due shortly. He usually likes a cup of tea first and then you and I will have to leave while he examines Mother. I’ll go and make a fresh pot.’ She hesitated and said, ‘I don’t know how to introduce you, Nicole. I wouldn’t want to embarrass you by saying you’re my daughter if you’d rather I didn’t.’

  ‘No problem. You can say that.’

  Hélène nodded and left.

  Nicole leant toward Eve, her forehead creased with concern.

  ‘What’s really the matter, Grandmother? Doctors don’t call round for a cold.’

  ‘No, you’re quite right. I do have a cold but it’s my heart that everyone makes a fuss about. I keep telling them that at eighty five my heart’s bound to have its off days.’ For a moment her eyes had a bit of a twinkle as she added, ‘But I think the doctor comes round for the chocolate cake, not me!’

  Nicole smiled at Eve, patting her hand.

  ‘Is your heart the reason you’re in a wheelchair?’

  ‘That and my arthritis. On a good day I can still get about downstairs with my frame. But the good days have been less frequent of late.’ She sighed before attempting a smile.

  Before Nicole could reply the door opened and Hélène entered, followed by a tall, slim man in his late thirties, carrying the
ubiquitous medical bag. As he glanced in her direction their eyes met. He’s gorgeous! Nicole held his gaze while she felt the breath stop in her lungs and her heart race against her ribs. What on earth…!

  chapter 14

  ‘Here we are, Doctor. I’d like you to meet my…daughter, Nicole.

  Looking surprised, the gorgeous man strode across to Nicole, reaching out his hand. As their fingers touched, Nicole felt something akin to an electric charge run through her body and she couldn’t let go. Finally, after what seemed minutes but was only seconds, he released her hand.

  ‘Hi, Ben Tostevin. I’ve the honour of looking after this lovely lady.’ He smiled at Eve.

  ‘Hi, Doctor. Nice to meet you.’ She still felt dazed by what had happened. The only time she’d felt anything remotely similar was when she’d first met Tom. But that had been nothing compared to…

  ‘Please call me Ben. After all, you’re not my patient.’ He smiled warmly and Nicole wondered if he could have felt the same reaction. Had it been the proverbial coup de foudre for both of them?

  Ben, meanwhile, went across to sit on the other side of Eve, asking her how she was.

  ‘I’m not too bad, Doctor. Just a bit of a cold.’

  ‘Mm, well I’ll take a good look at you after I’ve had some tea.’ His eyes crinkled up as he smiled at Eve.

  Hélène poured more tea and passed around the chocolate cake. There was a momentary silence as tea was sipped and thoughts gathered. Nicole tried not to stare at Ben, drinking in his grey eyes, strong jaw and short brown hair as she peeped over her tea cup. She felt a crazy desire to kiss his firm mouth.

  Hélène put down her cup and faced Ben. ‘I…I had Nicole after a relationship ended so offered her up for adoption. It seemed the best choice at the time.’ Smiling at Nicole she continued, ‘Fortunately for me, she tracked me down and she’s staying for a few days while we get to know each other better.’

  Ben looked at the three women before replying. ‘Well, I’m pleased for you, Hélène. And, of course, for you too Mrs Ferbrache.’