Chapter 29
PRESENT DAY
Mia had never had a holiday romance before, and she’d never made so many changes to her itinerary, either.
But the days with Joe were impossible not to love, and every time he suggested they do one more thing or visit one more place, she couldn’t say no.
And it was her, coming up with excuses for their time together not to end, too, and he seemed just as happy to entertain every extension.
They were sitting eating ice cream, and she was wondering just how it was that even French ice cream tasted better than anything she’d eaten anywhere else, when two young children came racing past, laughing and squealing, before running off at high speed again.
Mia laughed as she watched them, but then she caught Joe staring at her and she turned and frowned.
‘Why are you looking at me like that?’
He smiled. ‘Your face lit up seeing those children.’
‘I love their energy. Kids don’t take the world too seriously. It’s refreshing.’
‘Do you want children of your own?’ he asked, casually, in between little scoops of ice cream from a tiny wooden spoon.
‘Do you?’ Mia asked, trying to hide her surprise that he’d even asked her.
‘Maybe,’ he said. ‘I mean, I like kids. I love being an uncle. I suppose it’s not something I’ve thought about in a long time.’
‘Me neither.’ Mia scooped the last little bit of ice cream from her cup, before looking back up at Joe. ‘To be honest, I imagined I’d keep up my semi-nomadic lifestyle, and maybe we would have had one child that tagged along on our work adventures. But that was before.’
Joe nodded. ‘I can see you with a mini-me.’
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to talk about it like that, it’s probably weird for—’
‘Mia, it’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with talking about the past.’
She smiled, but tears were prickling her eyes and she hated it. ‘I just didn’t want you to wonder if I was thinking about him when I was with you. Because I’m not, I haven’t been.’
‘But then I went and asked you a tricky question,’ he said, nudging his thigh against hers. ‘You don’t have to apologise.’
‘Don’t you sometimes wish you could just wipe the slate clean? That you could start over and not keep getting lost in the past?’
Joe nodded, taking her ice cream cup and setting it down beside his. Then he turned back to her and cupped her cheek in his palm, leaning in and pressing the warmest, softest kiss to her lips.
‘The thing is, Mia, you are making me forget the past,’ he said, pulling away just enough to murmur to her. ‘But my past is a little different to yours. It’s easy to forget when I’m with you.’
What she would have told him, if she were braver, was that he was making her forget, too.
Not her time with Ethan, but the pain of afterwards.
Joe had done more to heal her than any therapist had, and at the very least he’d shown her that she could meet someone else who made her feel wanted and cherished.
Sometimes she wondered if she’d idolised what she’d had with Ethan to the point of believing no other man could ever live up to her memory of him.
Before now. Now she could see that there was more for her; that she had so much more still to look forward to.
Joe leaned in and kissed her again, and she sighed against his mouth, wishing that their days together weren’t fast running out.
‘May I ask you something?’
‘Anything,’ he replied, slinging his arm around her shoulders and sitting back beside her.
‘If I’d been French, and we’d met, would you have asked me to the party?’
He looked away, staring out at something she couldn’t see before slowly turning back to her. ‘No.’
She nodded. If he’d been in London, she probably wouldn’t have said yes, either. But there had been something about being away, about being prepared to take a risk because she wasn’t at home.
‘Honestly? I asked you because I thought I wouldn’t see you again after that night.’
She reached for his hand and dropped her head to his shoulder. She understood. And maybe that was why they’d both got on so easily, because somewhere deep inside they were both a little broken, and one night had felt safe.
‘I was afraid of getting close to someone, of falling in love, of getting hurt,’ he said. ‘It’s been easier to dip in and out of casual relationships that never had the chance of becoming anything more.’
Mia closed her eyes. ‘And now?’ she whispered.
He was silent for a long moment, and when she opened her eyes and glanced up at him, she could see the hard line of his jaw.
Joe wrapped his arms around her, tightly, holding her against him as he pressed a fierce kiss to the top of her head.
‘Now I’m wondering how I ever thought one night with you would be enough.’
Mia was grateful for being busy, because it stopped her from thinking about leaving.
No matter how much she wanted to stay and keep searching, she’d resigned herself to the fact that she would have to come back another time.
She couldn’t stay on holiday forever, even though the idea was tempting, but one thing was for sure—she wasn’t going to give up on Hope yet.
They’d eaten at the best little restaurants, and had had so much fun along the way, and now she was strolling through the village of Provins, their last stop on their way back to Paris, with her camera dangling around her neck as she admired the beautiful stone architecture everywhere she looked.
She had one hand on her camera now, her fingers already at home gripping the sides as she admired the view, when she realised that she didn’t have a photo of Joe.
‘Joe,’ she called out, making him look up from where he was standing outside a little boulangerie.
She clicked the moment he looked up, catching him with his hand raking through his hair, a smile lifting the edges of his mouth at her call. And then again when his eyebrows pulled together in a frown, realising what she was doing.
Mia knew then that when she looked back on her time in France, it wouldn’t just be Joe she remembered fondly.
It would be rediscovering the joy of holding her camera, and that alone was enough to make her feel whole again.
And that was when she realised what she needed to do, whether she ever found out more about Hope or not.
She wanted to photograph each of the women who’d received a box, in honour of her great-aunt; she wanted to put together a private exhibition, a tribute as such.
As she looked out at the landscape, she imagined photographing each woman with her box, holding it in her palms. She wanted to recapture the moment when they opened it for the very first time, the connection they felt when they realised who it had once belonged to, and who it had been left for.
And she would photograph Hope’s box, even though there was nothing inside it.
Because if it hadn’t been for those little boxes, discovered so many decades after they’d been made, tucked beneath the floorboards, Mia would never have gone on her own journey.
A journey that she very much felt wasn’t over yet.
Somehow, from beyond the grave, Hope was the one who’d helped Mia reclaim her life. In retracing her steps, she’d found her own path back to happiness.
‘Croissant or éclair?’ Joe called out.
Mia smiled before giving him a shrug. ‘Both?’
He laughed and muttered something in French that she hadn’t a chance of understanding, but if she had to guess he was probably cursing how English she was. But it might be a long time before she ate such good pastry again.
When he came back, holding two paper bags, he folded his arms around her, the bags against her waist as she leaned back into his chest.
‘Why are you smiling like that?’
She just kept smiling as she looked up at him. ‘Because I’m happy for the first time in forever, and because I’ve had an idea for a photography project,’ she told him.
He kissed her lips, warm and slow.
‘Will you come back to Paris and visit?’ he asked when he pulled away.
Mia grinned. ‘It wouldn’t be so hard to convince me.’
She could have asked him what it would mean if she came back to see him, but she didn’t want to. What they had was enough, it had to be, without her trying to complicate it.
‘Who will I eat croissants with, if you don’t?’ he teased. ‘Mornings won’t be the same without being sent out for coffee and breakfast.’
‘Maybe next time you’ll have to come to London, and I can run around after you instead,’ she said.
He pressed his cheek to hers, still cradling her from behind, his skin warm. ‘Perhaps.’
The truth was that Mia didn’t know if she would ever see Joe again, but if she were given even half a chance, if he invited her back just for a weekend, it would be the fastest train ticket she’d ever bought to come back and see him.
Mia leaned back, her head nestled in the spot between his neck and jaw.
What scared her was how easily she could get used to being in his arms.
It wasn’t until later that night, sitting up in bed, phone in hand, that Mia had time to really think through her idea. But as excited as she was by it, she was still a little nervous about what she was proposing.
She lifted her phone again and reread her email.
She knew that Georgia, Ella and Charlotte were likely to be receptive, but she didn’t feel she knew the other women well enough to guess what their reactions might be.
But then again, she knew how much the little boxes she’d given them had come to mean to them, so maybe, just maybe, they would all say yes.
I often think about the first time I met each of you, and how we came into each other’s lives as strangers, yet now share such a special bond.
Hope is, of course, the link that connects us all, and I know that the discovery of those seven boxes has changed all of your lives.
Each of you has told me privately just how much your discovery of your family’s past has come to mean to you, which is why I wanted to reach out to you all.
Hope left behind more mysteries than answers when she passed, and my hope is to uncover her past and share some or all of her story, depending on how much I find.
Most of you won’t know that I’m a photographer, and although wildlife was once my forte, I’d now like to turn my hand to something more personal.
I’d like to document my journey of discovery into Hope’s past, and I’d also like to photograph each of you with your box, to tell that part of her story through photos, in honour of Hope’s memory.
I’d like to showcase a handful of the lives Hope touched, and see if any more women come forward with a connection to her house.
Five years ago now, my fiancé passed away.
He was with me one moment, and the next, a tragic accident took him from me, and I haven’t created any work that I’ve truly loved since then.
But I’ve come to believe that Hope’s gift to me was the chance to find myself creatively again.
For the past few years I’ve worked as a writer, but I want to rediscover my love for photography, and tell the story of our journeys through images, if you’d be so kind as to let me.
If you’re not comfortable with having your photograph taken or your names published, please let me know. But if you are, please trust in me to create something beautiful, images that I’d like to display in a gallery, and share the experience with you all if I can.
With love,
Mia xx
Her finger hovered, and then she pressed send.