Twenty-nine
E mma had spent a quiet but not inactive morning on her own as Marc-Antoine had had to go to his office. First she’d headed to the market to buy supplies, then worked for an hour or so in the garden, pulling up the last of the stray weeds, her mind on what Charlotte had told her. She had briefly looked up the name ‘Eric Dubois’ in the online telephone directory, but Charlotte was right, there were far too many of them, and she’d given up almost immediately. Was that a sign she should give up altogether? Or should she call Charlotte and ask about the PI she’d mentioned? She still had no idea, even after talking it over with Marc-Antoine, who was very supportive but couldn’t decide for her. Finally, after vengefully pulling up the last weed, she’d decided she would talk to Mattie about it when she went to see her later that day.
Over a cup of coffee, she caught up with her messages, first sending an email to Paddy to tell him what had happened to Mattie, but stressing all was well. There was an email from her contact at Thornton’s, telling her how much everyone had loved her new series, and a lovely email from Liz, sending her fabulous photos of their garden day together, with an unexpected PS. I mentioned your wonderful tour to Fran Reilly, a friend of mine who’s visiting us at the moment. She has an agency in Sydney specialising in bespoke tours. She was really interested, and said she’d love to have a chat about it with you. Hope you don’t mind me opening my big mouth!
Emma was delighted and wrote back to Liz thanking her.
Closing down her laptop, she made and ate a simple lunch of a half-baguette filled with the succulent Paris-style cooked ham, adding some soft lettuce and fresh tomatoes that she’d bought from the market. Then she picked the most advanced of the newly blooming yellow roses from the garden and set off for the hospital.
Mattie’s pacemaker was to be implanted at 3 pm, but Marc-Antoine couldn’t be at the hospital before 4.30. The procedure was just an hour under local anaesthetic, but Emma wanted to be with her grandmother beforehand.
She found Mattie sitting up watching TV, but she turned it off as soon as Emma came in. ‘Will you look at that,’ she said wonderingly, her eyes fastening on the rose. ‘Is that beauty from our garden, by any chance?’
Warmed by the simple words ‘our garden’, Emma nodded and handed over the rose. Mattie held the golden flower to her nose and sniffed deeply, her eyes misty. ‘My darling, you couldn’t have brought me a better gift!’
Emma filled a glass with water to put the rose in. ‘Marc-Antoine can’t come until after the operation’s over, but I’m staying here till you’re out of surgery. And no arguing,’ she said, seeing her grandmother’s expression. ‘There’s nothing else I’d rather do.’
Mattie smiled. ‘You win. Now, why don’t you tell me what you’ve been up to since yesterday, you and Marc-Antoine.’
Emma felt heat rising up her neck at the mischievous glint in her grandmother’s eyes but answered steadily enough. ‘This morning I went to the market—everyone there said to give you their best wishes—and then I worked in the garden.’ She told Mattie about Liz’s email and showed her the photos from the tour. Mattie agreed the pictures were great. Then she added, ‘But I fancy you are turning around the pot, as my mother used to say. What is it that you really want to talk to me about, my little Emma?’
Emma took a deep breath. ‘Charlotte came to see us. She’d been talking to Pascal.’ She told Mattie what Charlotte had reported, and Mattie listened in silence. When Emma drew to a halt, Mattie asked, ‘What are you going to do, my darling?’
‘I don’t know.’
Mattie took her hand. ‘If you don’t do anything, it won’t go away. You won’t be rid of it, even if’s just a nagging feeling of what if . But if you decide to look further and you do find him, what he tells you may prove he can’t be your father, and then maybe you can put it completely from your mind. And if it becomes clear that he is your father, then you will need to decide if you want to take that final step and tell him. Because I am sure he has no idea you exist.’
‘I know,’ Emma cried, ‘it’s hard. Whichever way I turn, there are difficult things that I’m not sure I want to face.’
‘But deep inside,’ Mattie said, ‘you know what you really want, what you need to do, don’t you?’
Their eyes met. Emma said, slowly at first, then in a rush, ‘That photo of Maman … I am sure that she had it out because he was the one who took it, and she was going to tell me about it. And I feel there was so much love expressed in that picture, so much happiness … And so I want to understand why that wasn’t enough, why my mother went alone to Australia.’ She choked a little, before adding, ‘She loved Paddy, she loved me, she loved her life in Australia, she never showed any sign of regret.’
‘And yet she kept the photo,’ Mattie finished.
Emma nodded. ‘So you think I should try to find him?’
‘I do.’