Chapter Fourteen #2
‘Thank you, Alison.’ Juliette rose too. ‘You’ve been so helpful and I’m very grateful. It’s wonderful, talking to Madame Leclerc, and I’d never have found her without you.’ She gave Alison a brief hug, though she had to force herself to do it.
‘My pleasure,’ Alison replied. ‘Say goodbye to the old dear for me. And do let me know if you find out anything interesting about the chateau. I’ll dig out that box from the attic and maybe you can look through it if you have a minute when you’re next here.’
‘That would be awesome,’ Juliette told her. ‘Thanks again.’
When Madame Leclerc reappeared, she explained that Alison had had to leave and the old lady nodded. ‘She has no interest in the past,’ she said: a statement of fact, without judgement.
She laid a small velvet box on the table and fumbled with the clasp before passing it to Juliette. ‘My fingers are stiff. Would you open this, my dear?’
A silver pendant lay inside: an ornate cross with two horizontal bars, the upper a little shorter than the lower. Juliette picked it up, letting the chain fall through her fingers. ‘How lovely,’ she said, looking at the swirling lines etched into the cross’s curved edges. ‘Is it Celtic?’
‘That’s the Cross of Lorraine,’ Madame Leclerc told her. ‘The Free French took it as their symbol during the war, but its history goes back further than that – to the century before, when we lost part of Lorraine to the Germans. It represents my country’s determination to recover her territories.’
‘I always thought my grandmother must have been part of the Resistance,’ Juliette said. ‘Her first husband helped people escape from occupied Paris and died in a concentration camp.’
‘My mother wouldn’t tell me anything about her,’ Madame Leclerc went on, ‘though obviously I was curious. Why would she have given me such a precious thing, rather than pass it on to her own daughter? My mother didn’t like me wearing the cross but I’ve always kept it safe, and wondered what it meant. ’
‘Did your mother ever talk about the war?’ Juliette asked.
A shadow crossed Madame Leclerc’s face. ‘She preferred to forget those days and I didn’t like to remind her. It was a difficult time for our family.’
Juliette could tell from her expression that she wouldn’t elaborate.
They talked more generally about what it had been like to grow up at the chateau, and the various owners who’d taken it on since the de Courcy family had fallen on hard times, and then before she knew it, Véronique was knocking at the door to say she was parked outside.
‘May I come and see you again?’ Juliette asked Madame Leclerc. ‘Or write to you, perhaps?’
‘But what more is there to say?’ the old lady replied. ‘I’ve told you everything I remember.’
‘Still, I’d like to keep in touch,’ Juliette said.
‘The chateau obviously meant a great deal to my grandmother and there’s no one else who knows as much about the place as you.
’ She felt strangely comfortable with Madame Leclerc in her dark, quiet cottage.
‘My son is getting married near here in September,’ she went on. ‘Maybe I could call by then?’
‘You’ll be busy,’ Madame Leclerc said, ‘but if you can find the time to visit, you’d be welcome.’
Juliette had spotted an ancient-looking telephone in the hall. ‘Give me your number and I can call nearer the time to see when’s convenient.’
‘You don’t need to do that; I’m always here.’ Madame Leclerc passed the velvet box across the table. ‘This cross belonged to your grandmother. I’ve looked after it for years but I think it should stay in your family, and there’s no one to inherit it after I’m gone.’
‘Oh, my Lord. Are you sure? Thank you,’ Juliette said, holding the box with both hands. ‘I’ll treasure it, and I know my daughter will too.’
‘Please, do come again,’ the old lady said. ‘Forgive my bluntness. I’m not used to visitors but I’ve enjoyed meeting you.’
‘The feeling is entirely mutual,’ Juliette replied, and this time her goodbye hug was heartfelt.
Juliette relayed to Véronique everything Madame Leclerc had told her as they drove back to the farmhouse. Véronique listened attentively without interrupting, and when Juliette had finished talking, she was quiet for a while.
‘Why do you think your grandmother waited until 1978 to return to Provence?’ she said, finally.
‘I’ve asked myself the same question,’ Juliette replied. ‘The only reason I can come up with is that my grandfather had died the year before. Maybe she felt finally free to come?’
‘Well, there’s obviously more to discover,’ Véronique said, ‘and I have a feeling you won’t rest until you’ve found out the whole story.’
Juliette gazed out of the window at the countryside rolling by: the vineyards, fields and olive groves probably largely unchanged since her grandmother’s day.
For the first time, the past and its secrets felt within her reach, and she could hardly bear to tear herself away from Provence, though she couldn’t wait to tell Nico what she’d discovered.
She opened the box for another look at the pendant, and in the clearer light of the car noticed a faint inscription engraved on the back of the cross, worn almost smooth: Ma lionne, she made out.
Could tiny silver-haired Mémé ever have been anyone’s lioness?
And why would she give such a precious thing away to someone she hardly knew?
Sophie was waiting for them at the house, in much better spirits than she’d been earlier that morning. The dressmaker was certain she could alter Véronique’s gown successfully; she’d taken Sophie’s measurements and was going to start work straight away.
‘Let’s have lunch in Arles and fit in some sightseeing before you leave tomorrow,’ Jean suggested, and Juliette felt a pang of sadness that the visit was almost over.
‘Not long now until September,’ Véronique said, squeezing her arm. ‘Perhaps you could come early and help us get ready for the wedding? Preparations are half the fun.’
‘I’d love that,’ Juliette replied, touched. ‘I’d been wondering about a longer visit next time, but the only problem might be finding somewhere to stay. I’ve had a look online and everything seems to be fully booked.’
‘Leave that with me,’ Véronique said. ‘Someone round here is bound to be away in August and need a house sitter.’
There wasn’t much time for sightseeing in Arles before lunch but they had a quick look at the vast Roman amphitheatre and walked through the colonnaded forum square where, two thousand years ago, day labourers looking for work would gather.
Juliette didn’t feel cheated: what with wedding plans and family memories, she had no room in her head for the Romans.
They enjoyed a long, leisurely lunch of bouillabaisse with crusty bread, the fish perfectly poached in a tomato and garlic broth, and talked about the more recent past. Jean’s parents came from the Vercors, a little further to the north, and the Resistance had been particularly active there during the war.
The plateau, protected by a ring of mountains, had made the perfect landing field for parachute drops of weapons and supplies for the Maquis, and later, Allied soldiers fighting to liberate France.
Over dessert, the conversation turned to the future, and what life might be like for Sophie in New York. Again, Juliette admired Jean and Véronique for making it so easy for their daughter to move so far from home.
She said as much to Sophie on the train back to Paris the next morning. ‘I guess so,’ Sophie replied. ‘But they know I’ll call every day and come back whenever I can – because I want to, not out of duty.’
Juliette remembered how bereft she’d felt when Ben and Emily had gone off to college: a double blow from which it was hard to recover.
Yet this was life, wasn’t it? A series of inevitable partings as we forged our own path.
Juliette had been the next to break away, and her daughter the one left behind, missing her.
She sighed, took out her phone and scrolled mindlessly for a while as distraction.
Alison had posted the picture of herself looking radiant with her basket of roses and the caption, Off to visit the neighbours!
Smiling, Juliette tried Nico’s number again.
The call went to voicemail but she’d left a message already and had nothing to add, so she took out her book and tried her best not to worry.
She’d told him what time she’d be home and they could have a proper talk then.
The niggling doubt in the pit of her stomach intensified when she saw his face, though. ‘Is everything OK?’ she asked, dropping her bag in the hall.
‘Everything’s fine,’ he said, coming forward to embrace her. She stood for a few seconds with her head against his chest, bracing herself for the moment he would let her know what was wrong.
‘How was your trip?’ he asked, drawing back to look at her. ‘Did you like Véronique and Jean?’
‘They were so lovely,’ she said, walking through to the salon and throwing herself into a chair.
She’d already told him about finding the chateau, so now she described her visit in more detail, but she didn’t mention Madame Leclerc because she could tell he wasn’t listening with his full attention. That part of the story could wait.
‘So what have you been up to?’ she asked eventually.
Nico took a breath. ‘Well, as a matter of fact, Delphine called on Friday, just after you left.’
‘Oh yes?’ Juliette kept her voice neutral, though any mention of Nico’s ex-girlfriend made her hackles rise. ‘What did she have to say?’
‘It’s not good news.’ Nico pushed up the sleeves of his sweater, then pulled them down again. ‘She’s been diagnosed with breast cancer.’
Juliette gasped. ‘I’m so sorry! That’s awful. Is she OK? Stupid question – of course she’s not, but you know what I mean.’
‘She’s in quite a state,’ Nico replied. ‘They’ve caught it early, apparently, though she still needs an operation and chemotherapy afterwards.’
‘Poor her,’ Juliette said, and meant it. Delphine might not have been her favourite person but she wouldn’t wish cancer on anyone.
‘I said I’d help,’ Nico went on. ‘Give her lifts to the hospital for treatment, that kind of thing. Would you mind?’
‘Of course not – and you don’t need my permission. Sure, whatever she needs.’
‘Thanks.’ He smiled, relieved. ‘I knew you’d understand.’
Juliette hesitated. ‘Although . . .’ She stopped, uncertain how to carry on.
‘Although what?’ Nico asked.
‘Well, doesn’t Delphine have anyone else to ask?’ she said in a rush, aware of how mean she might sound but unable to stop herself. ‘Like a best friend, or maybe that guy she’s been seeing?’
Her own best friend, Lindsay, had gone through chemotherapy in the States five years before and Juliette had often sat with her through the sessions and brought round meals when she didn’t feel like cooking.
Seeing Lindsay’s vulnerability and sharing her suffering had brought them closer than they’d ever been.
‘Apparently not,’ Nico replied. ‘Antoine said he didn’t sign up for that.’
‘Well, he sounds delightful.’
‘I know. What a bastard.’ Nico shook his head. ‘But look, if you don’t want me to get involved, I can make some excuse.’
‘No, don’t do that,’ Juliette said. ‘Of course you must help – it would be awful to refuse.’
It was sad that Delphine had no one else to turn to, she told herself; sobering to think she didn’t have a single girlfriend who could keep her company. Although do you really believe that? whispered a voice inside her head. She chose to ignore it.