Chapter Fourteen
‘Of course, the chateau is wonderful,’ Alison said, gazing towards the overgrown shrubs beyond the terrace, and the vineyard clinging to the hillside above. ‘We were bowled over the moment we saw it. Yet I can’t help feeling there’s something a little sad about the place.’
‘But you said you’d found something out,’ Juliette prompted. ‘About the women in my photograph?’
‘That’s right.’ Alison picked up her phone.
‘Let me find it. Right, here we are.’ She leaned forward to share the screen and Juliette caught a trace of cloying, flowery scent.
‘So this woman here—’ and she pointed to the younger of the two Frenchwomen ‘—looked weirdly familiar to me, though I couldn’t think why.
And then in the middle of the night, I suddenly got it. ’ She looked at Juliette triumphantly.
‘Go on,’ Juliette said, holding herself very still.
‘Well, when we first came to look at the chateau, an old lady came up from the gate lodge to let us in. Later on, the agent told us that her mother had been housekeeper here during the war, and that she’d lived in that little house her whole life.
Can you imagine? I’m pretty sure she’s the younger woman in this photo, and the older one must be her mother.
We don’t see much of her – Madame Leclerc, her name is – and she doesn’t speak any English so it’s hard to communicate, but she’s definitely still around. ’
‘Do you think we could go visit her?’ Juliette asked.
‘Sure, I don’t see why not.’ Alison checked the time. ‘It’s not too early, is it? She’s quite shy, though, so perhaps only the two of us should go, if you think Véronique would be happy to potter around the garden for a while longer.’
‘I think she’d be delighted,’ Juliette said, jumping to her feet.
Alison took an age to get ready, looking for gardening gloves, secateurs and a wicker basket so she could cut some roses for Madame Leclerc, fetching a sun hat and filling a water bottle for them each.
We’re only walking half a mile down the drive, Juliette wanted to say – until she reminded herself that without Alison, she wouldn’t have had any leads at all, and that a little patience now wouldn’t kill her.
‘It’s nice to have a distraction from building works the whole time,’ Alison said as they finally set off, glancing over her shoulder at the house.
‘I’m sure it will all be worth it in the end,’ Juliette said.
Alison sighed. ‘The end seems a long way off from where I’m standing.
It’s always been Matt’s dream, though, living in a place like this.
We ran a pub in the UK before we moved to France, but Covid finished that.
It’s the people I miss as much as anything – we had some lovely regulars.
Still, onward and upward!’ She gave one of her tense smiles.
‘Actually, would you mind taking a picture for my Insta feed?’
She fell into a practised pose: head cocked to the side, hip tilted and one leg propped in front of the other, foot raised on tippy toes. ‘Take a few,’ she instructed Juliette. ‘I like to have plenty to choose from.’
At last they arrived at the house beside the gates.
It looked like a child’s drawing: a square one-storey building with a rectangular door in the middle and a window on either side.
The roof was missing several tiles but the kerb had been freshly swept and the window boxes were bright with red geraniums. Don’t get your hopes up, Juliette told herself as Alison knocked on the door; the chances of Madame Leclerc remembering their visit were remote.
Yet she couldn’t help a tingle of anticipation.
After what seemed an age, the door slowly opened, revealing an elderly woman dressed in black, her lined face framed by a cloud of curly white hair.
Her curved cheekbones, long nose and generous mouth were instantly recognisable from the photo on Juliette’s phone, although her lips were thinner now and her grey eyebrows were sparse.
She nodded when she saw Alison, her expression wary.
‘Bonjour, Madame Leclerc,’ Alison began, thrusting the flowers forward.
That being about the extent of her French, Juliette took over.
Introducing herself, she explained that she’d visited the chateau years ago when she was a child, and that she believed her grandmother had possibly spent some time there during the war.
‘Entrez,’ Madame Leclerc said simply, standing back to invite them inside.
They followed her through to an immaculate front room full of uncomfortable, unused furniture and perched on high-backed chairs around the table, clutching their water bottles.
A grandfather clock ticked in the corner and the air smelt of dusty potpourri and bug spray.
The old lady sat opposite Juliette, laid the roses on the table and gestured for her to carry on.
She didn’t appear at all alarmed or surprised by their visit, merely curious as to what it might be about.
And she didn’t seem shy in the slightest: merely reserved.
Juliette found the photograph of the four women on her phone and passed it across the table.
‘We think this might be you and your mother,’ she said.
‘And the other two are my mother and grandmother. I don’t suppose you remember them?
Us, I mean. My brother and I were there too but we’re not in this picture.
Of course, it was a long time ago – 1978, in fact.
’ She stopped talking, aware she was gabbling.
Madame Leclerc studied the picture for what seemed a long time before returning the phone to Juliette and fixing her with a steady gaze. ‘I do remember,’ she said, and the hairs stood up on the back of Juliette’s arms.
‘Really? That’s wonderful!’
‘It was such a strange day,’ Madame Leclerc went on.
‘Perhaps that’s why it’s stayed in my memory.
A letter had arrived from America, so my mother knew you were coming, and it made her nervous, though she wouldn’t tell me why.
One thing that’s stuck in my mind is the fact she wore make-up for your visit.
She had a port-wine birthmark on one side of her face which she covered with foundation, and she’d never done that before.
She looked so different, I couldn’t get over it.
I don’t recall much about you and your brother, I’m afraid, but I enjoyed talking to your mother about this and that.
She seemed like a nice woman and her French was excellent. Almost as good as yours.’ She smiled.
‘Thank you,’ Juliette replied. ‘Mémé insisted we learn French and I’ve been living here for three years now. But do go on.’
‘You arrived here first and then we went up to the chateau together.’ Madame Leclerc gazed out of the window as though she were watching the events of that day play out all over again.
‘Your grandmother and my mother walked ahead, and the atmosphere between them seemed strained. They hardly spoke but later, once we’d looked around the house and had gone into the gardens, they went off by themselves and we heard raised voices.
It was very awkward. I’d only just met your mother so I couldn’t discuss the situation with her; we had to pretend nothing was happening. ’
‘What a nightmare,’ Juliette said. The visit must have begun in this very room, reserved for best, which probably looked just the same then as it did now.
She could imagine the scene: she and her brother hot, bored and fretful, on the verge of misbehaving, while her mother watched them like a hawk and Madame Leclerc tried to make polite conversation.
What could the older women have been fighting about?
Yet Madame Leclerc was talking again and she forced herself to concentrate. Alison was shifting in her seat, casting dismissive glances around the room, but Juliette ignored her.
‘Things became even more peculiar,’ the old lady went on, ‘which is probably why I remember that meeting, so many years ago. After the two of them had joined us again, your grandmother singled me out. She talked to me all the way back down the drive, asking me about my life and my views on all sort of things – not that I had much to tell her because we led such a quiet existence here, my mother and I. She said that she remembered me as a baby during the war, and what a dear little thing I’d been.
’ Madame Leclerc smiled, and her face became quite beautiful.
‘And then before she left, she gave me a present. Afterwards my mother wanted me to get rid of it, though she wouldn’t say why. Would you like to see it?’
‘Oh, yes, please,’ Juliette said. ‘If it’s not too much trouble.’
The old lady grasped the arms of her chair and levered herself up. ‘Wait here. I won’t be a moment.’
Once she’d left the room, Alison leaned forward and whispered, ‘Do you think this is going to take much longer? It’s just that I need to be getting back to start lunch.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ Juliette whispered back. ‘You must be bored. She’s just fetching something to show me, but you don’t have to wait. We could say goodbye now.’
‘No, it’s fine,’ Alison said, drumming her fingers on the table as she looked around.
‘God, this room is depressing. I was hoping to get a picture or two but it’s not quaint enough to photograph.
Think how adorable the whole place could look if it was painted white and the floorboards were stripped.
We’d like to buy the house once it comes on the market, if they’re not asking silly money. ’
Juliette opened her mouth to reply and then shut it again, afraid of what might come out.
Alison tossed her water bottle into the basket and stood up. ‘Actually, Juliette, if you don’t mind, I think I will make for home. I’ll tell Véronique to meet you down here, if that’s OK.’