Chapter 39
The nearer we got to Arles, the more fidgety I became. I felt uneasy about how Mum might react when she saw me. Would she be shocked? Happy? Irritated because I’d inserted myself into her Christmas holiday? Angry, even? I took a deep breath, supposing I was about to find out.
Good or bad, whatever Mum’s response to my presence, I needed to know she was okay. Yes, she appeared to be thriving in her videos. But not only had she fallen and injured herself, I knew from experience what people saw online didn’t always reflect reality.
Callum’s contribution to Foredale and Frogmore’s internet presence was a case in point.
I understood his reasoning to a degree. When it came to selling houses, getting people through the door mattered.
But whereas Callum would wax lyrical about a property’s perfect location, spacious double bedrooms, and modern fitted kitchen, the black mould in the bathroom and hole in the living room ceiling wouldn’t get a mention in his videos, let alone any screen time.
Once potential buyers crossed the threshold, most of them turned straight around never to be seen again.
For all I knew, Mum could be being selective too. Thanks to her TikTok success, she could be feeling under pressure to maintain an upbeat facade, when behind the scenes, she and Jackson were having a miserable time.
‘We’re almost there,’ Theo said. Eyes bright, he seemed excited rather than anxious.
Theo had wedged his mobile into the dashboard holder and as I glanced at its satnav, saw Arles was to our left.
The road we were on, however, bore away from town, bypassing the place altogether.
‘Where is it taking us?’ I asked. ‘Shouldn’t we be heading over there?
’ I pointed in Arles’s general direction.
‘We’re good. This is the way to the abbey.’ Theo pointed to his phone screen. ‘There, see. L’abbaye de Montmajour.’
‘It can’t be. Mum said it was in town.’
‘Maybe you misheard? Or she got it wrong?’
I shook my head. ‘No, she definitely said town centre.’
‘What about the venue? Might she have meant to say church?’
I recalled Mum’s video and her excitement at attending a Christmas concert in an actual abbey. ‘Honestly, Mum was adamant.’
As confused as me, Theo’s brow knitted. ‘Why don’t we check out this place first and then go from there.’
L’abbaye de Montmajour appeared in the distance and taking in what looked like a huge stone complex, my unease continued. The abbey was the only concrete location in Arles Mum had given and if there had been a mix-up, goodness knew where we’d look next.
Theo slowed the car as we approached, but rather than enter the abbey’s visitor car park, he simply pulled up in a space marked coach drop-off point that sat directly in front.
The abbey was imposing and atmospheric. Standing solid in a grassy landscape, its giant walls had greyed over the centuries and its arch and rose windows were few.
Looking around, the place seemed deserted and any hope I’d had left disintegrated when I clocked the two heavy-duty security gates.
Locked shut, it was clear even on foot we couldn’t venture anywhere near the building and with its perimeter fenced off, there didn’t appear to be another way in.
Forced to accept the abbey was closed to visitors, I felt a slight panic and with no clue as to what to do now, I looked to Theo.
‘Don’t worry. We’re early,’ he said. ‘The carol service doesn’t start for another few hours. The fact no one’s here doesn’t mean anything.’ I didn’t know who he was trying to kid. As he glanced around, he looked as unconvinced by that as me.
‘Look, there’s a noticeboard.’ I got out of the car and with Theo following behind, approached the railings.
As well as an information sheet outlining the abbey’s opening hours, there was a photo of the building and written in French, what I assumed to be a brief history of L’abbaye de Montmajour. I couldn’t see anything about upcoming events, never mind a Christmas Day carol concert.
Theo glanced around. ‘Maybe this isn’t the right place after all.’
At a loss, we headed back to the car, and reaching in, I pulled out my phone to double check I hadn’t missed something. I brought up Mum’s relevant TikTok and scrolled to the point where she discussed her Christmas Day entertainment.
‘Firstly, I spoke to Gisèle this morning…’ Maeve said. ‘…and she told me about a carol concert being held in the centre historique part of town. At their abbey no less. On Christmas Day. Not only that…’
I hit pause. ‘So what now?’
‘But we know this is the town’s only abbey,’ Theo said. ‘We must be missing something.’
I clicked on Mum’s most recent video and again fast forwarded.
‘I’m so glad we made this trip. Arles…’ Maeve said, only to fall silent when Roma barked for attention. ‘Where was I?’ she continued. ‘Oh yes. I was just saying how wonderful it is here.’
Realisation dawned. ‘What if that’s it? What if Mum didn’t get chance to finish what she was saying?
’ I swapped TikTok for Google Maps. ‘And there’s an Arles something or other?
’ My shoulders slumped. ‘Like an Arles-sur-Tech.’ I checked out the town’s information.
‘It even has an abbey. L’abbaye Sainte-Marie.
’ I looked to Theo. ‘In the centre of town.’
‘How far away is it?’ Theo asked.
‘According to this, 191 miles and if we leave now, we should be there by 9.45pm.’
‘But what if we’re wrong?’
For all Theo and I knew, Mum and Jackson could be planning to head back to the UK on Boxing Day.
They could’ve been setting off to explore more of France.
They’d given zero clues as to their agenda or timetable; the only concrete knowledge Theo and I had was that they were attending a carol concert that evening, in the historic centre of a town with Arles in its name.
I pictured Mum with her bandaged left wrist, steering Dad’s old Volvo.
Every time she dipped her clutch she nodded, signalling for Jackson to crunch it into gear.
If Theo and I didn’t get to them sooner rather than later, goodness knew what trouble they might find themselves in.
I glanced around knowing in my gut we were in the wrong place and Arles-sur-Tech was the only potential lead we had. ‘What if we’re right?’ I replied.
Theo gave me a half smile. ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Let’s get back on the road.’