Thirty-four
A rielle and Daniel had left the hotel early the next morning and were driving back to the station when Arielle’s phone rang. Her heart jumped as she saw the name flashing up on the display, and she almost let it go to voicemail, but decided it was no good putting things off.
‘Daniel,’ she said, ‘do you mind pulling over? I’ve got to take this call and I’d rather not do it while we’re driving.’
He glanced at her, but didn’t ask any questions, just nodded and pulled over into a layby. With an apologetic smile, she got out and walked a few steps away. ‘Hello,’ she said guardedly.
‘I’m sorry if I’ve woken you,’ Thierry said. His voice sounded odd, cracked, almost.
‘It’s okay, you haven’t,’ Arielle said automatically, but with sudden apprehension. ‘What is it, Thierry? What’s happened?’
‘It’s Virginie,’ he said. ‘She was hospitalised yesterday.’
Arielle was shocked but also wary. What was coming next? ‘I’m sorry to hear that.’
‘Thank you.’ He was quiet for a moment, then he said, in a rush, ‘Arielle, I wanted to tell you there will be no more talk of … you know. Your message touched me deeply and finally made me tell Virginie that enough was enough.’
She ought to be feeling relief as the import of his words sunk in, but all she felt was confusion.
As if he had read her thoughts, Thierry said, ‘My wife has not coped well with our son’s death, despite pretending to. These last few weeks, it all came to a head. Panic attacks, rages, unrealistic plans. It’s been very difficult. And yesterday, after we had words, she collapsed.’ His voice cracked again. ‘I’m not telling you this as an excuse, I just wanted you to know.’
Arielle gulped as a wave of pity washed over her, and she found her voice at last. ‘Thierry, I had no idea. I’m so sorry.’
‘You have nothing to be sorry about.’ Another pause. ‘But I do. I am so very sorry for what we put you through.’
On the verge of tears, Arielle finally managed a whispered, ‘Thank you.’ Then she added, ‘I hope she’ll be okay, Thierry. Let me know, won’t you?’
‘I will,’ he said.
It was over. It really was. There would be no more harassment. The relief was almost overwhelming, but alongside that was a deep pity. Never in a thousand years would she have picked the overbearing Virginie as someone who had such vulnerabilities. And yet, the signs had probably been there all along, if she’d cared to look. Images of Virginie’s face flashed into her mind. The strange, fixed expression in her eyes that time at the flat; the way her hands shook; the hectic flush in her cheeks at the market; and the way Thierry was always trying to divert her. She’d thought it was because he was a coward. For an instant, a kind of shame filled her, that she hadn’t seen the truth, but then she recovered herself. Why should she have known? They had never breathed a word of the pain they were feeling.
Squaring her shoulders, she took a deep breath and went back to the car. Slipping into the passenger seat, she looked at Daniel. ‘There’s something I need to tell you.’
It would take time, to sort out her feelings about the Grandiers. And even then it would probably always be a little awkward between her and them. But maybe it might be a better sort of awkward, Daniel said. He’d understood, as she’d known he would.
When they were on the train, she went out into the corridor and video-called Pauline to ask how the twins were. ‘See for yourself,’ said Pauline, gesturing to where Louis and Alice were buzzing around the kitchen. She managed to get a cheerful wave out of them before they disappeared, while Pauline told her they’d all had a lot of fun, but she had been absolutely shattered by the time she went to bed. ‘I hope you weren’t too tired, though,’ she added, with a meaningful wink. Arielle blushed and said she certainly wasn’t going to talk about that in public. ‘Well, tonight, in private, then,’ Pauline said, unabashed, ‘and don’t think you’ll get out of it!’
Daniel went with her to the market stand, helped her open up, and fetched them both much-needed cups of coffee before he had to head off to work himself. So the day began, busy but not too hectic. Vella’s stand was still closed and Olivier, who came over to say hello at one point, commented that he supposed the man couldn’t face them all right now, after what had happened. ‘Maybe a break from work will reset his brain,’ he said. Arielle doubted that, but it didn’t matter. Even if he came back, she wouldn’t care. He couldn’t affect her. Not anymore.
It was almost lunchtime when she looked up from an order of posies she was creating for a bridal party and saw Emma standing there. ‘Hello,’ she said brightly, ‘how are you? And how’s the garden?’
‘It’s going well,’ said Emma, but her expression was distracted. ‘But I’ve had to stop for a couple of days, because my grandmother took ill.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,’ Arielle said. ‘I hope she’s okay.’
‘Yes, but …’ She hesitated, then blurted out, ‘Arielle, there’s something I need to ask you.’
Arielle’s hands stilled briefly on the current posy before continuing her work. Whatever the other woman wanted to ask, from the expression on her face, it wasn’t gardening advice.
‘I got a voice message from Charlotte,’ Emma said. ‘She told me that you had sent her photos of a bee farm you visited with Daniel.’
Arielle stopped working and stared at Emma, but before she could speak, Emma went on rapidly, ‘Sorry to be cryptic, but one of those photos shows a man both Charlotte and my mother knew, when they were young. Someone … someone I’ve been looking for. Charlotte said you’d know more.’
‘Me?’ Arielle said, completely flummoxed now. ‘Why on earth would I know anything?’
For answer, Emma took out her phone and showed her a photo. It was one of Franck’s scrapbook photos, showing him with the man who’d made his hives. Arielle looked up at Emma and frowned. ‘If the beekeeper, Franck, met your mother, he must have been very young. A baby, even. He looks to be in his early thirties.’
‘No, not him. The bearded one,’ Emma said, pointing to the other man.
‘That’s Monsieur Perrin, he’s a neighbour of Franck’s.’
Emma interrupted sharply. ‘ Perrin ? Are you sure? Not Dubois?’
Arielle shook her head. ‘Definitely Perrin.’
Emma looked crestfallen for an instant, then brightened. ‘Did you meet him?’
Arielle shook her head. ‘No, but Franck told us a bit about him. He’s a guide in the Chevreuse national park, as well as being a woodworker. His wife is a dairy farmer, some of her cows are pastured on Franck’s meadow.’
‘His wife ?’ Emma repeated, her eyes wide, as if such a concept was the oddest thing in the world.
Arielle looked at her, suddenly understanding. ‘This man you’ve been looking for—he was more than someone who knew your mother once, wasn’t he?’ she asked.
For a moment, it seemed as if Emma might not answer. Then she said, ‘I think he might be my father.’