Chapter 40
Darkness set in on the drive to Arles-sur-Tech and as I counted down the miles, I worried we weren’t going to get to Mum and Jackson in time.
Carols at Kings only lasted an hour and fifteen minutes on television so depending on when the service at L’abbaye Sainte-Marie started, there was a good chance we’d miss it.
‘Not far now,’ Theo said.
I pictured Mum and Jackson getting ready for the evening and out of respect for the occasion, Mum insisted they wore the smartest clothes they’d packed. I saw her stand back to admire Jackson in all his boyish glory. She gave him a smile of approval. ‘Very handsome.’
Once at the abbey, I knew Mum would relish every moment.
She adored the formality of such events: from the director of music to the choristers in their surplices and cassocks, to the organ and orchestra.
Settledown church wasn’t anywhere near as grand as King’s College, Cambridge, but there was no denying Mum’s disappointment when Father Taylor announced he’d no longer be conducting a midnight mass.
Mum had loved being a part of its festive congregation and while those less confident fudged their way through hymns, Mum had readily belted them out.
‘Ding Dong Merrily on High’, ‘Silent Night’, ‘O Come all ye Faithful’, she knew all the classics by heart.
Three years later and Father Taylor still wasn’t forgiven.
Even a carol service conducted in French wouldn’t stop Mum. One note of ‘Hark the Herald Angels Sing’ and she’d be off.
At almost ten at night, we, at last, reached our destination and as my anxiety shot up, Theo pulled onto a car park at the entrance to the town.
We unbuckled our seatbelts and got out of the vehicle to deathly silence.
Without a soul in sight, were it not for the commune Christmas lights traversing from one side of the road to the other, we’d have been forgiven for thinking the place was deserted.
Theo took my hand and although this caught me by surprise, it made my insides warm and fuzzy as we hastily made our way up the narrow, terraced street.
Made up of four- and five-storeyed medieval houses, there was no order to the roof line, which stepped up and down at random.
The properties had beautiful ornate Juliet balconies, shutters in blues and greens, and heavy wooden doors, some of which were adorned with old brass door knockers.
A few of the ground floors had been converted into shops, but disappointingly, unlike back in Settledown, there were no festive window displays to admire.
‘What’s that?’ I pointed to a stone bell tower nestled between two houses further up on our left.
The structure was clearly religious, and picking up my pace, I headed straight for its arched wooden door.
I tried to turn its heavy-duty metal handle, but it refused to budge. ‘Surprise, surprise, it’s locked.’
‘Eglise Saint-Sauveur,’ Theo said reading its signage. ‘This is the town church, not its abbey.’
Realising we weren’t going to find where we needed to be without help, I pulled out my phone and signed into Google Maps and typed in L’abbaye Sainte-Marie. ‘Come on.’ I indicated up the street. ‘It’s this way.’
We reached a junction at which there was a bar tabac and a cute little café.
Opposite, a street sign confirmed what my phone was saying and that we needed to go left.
Following the directions, we hastened along and maintaining the blue line on my screen, turned left again onto a pedestrian street.
My spirits lifted. ‘It’s just down here,’ I said taking a right.
The path tapered between buildings, growing increasingly narrow until we finally reached a stone archway that opened out onto a cobbled square. Its perimeter was made up of yet more beautiful old houses, some covered in ivy.
‘There!’ Theo pointed to the far end identifying a huge stone wall and a gate, beyond which sat the abbey. We ran towards it but just like the door of L’eglise Saint-Sauveur the gate was locked shut.
‘There must be another way in,’ I said.
With no choice but to leave the square behind, we turned around and went back the way we came, but instead of taking us all the way up to the main road, my phone instructed us to go in the opposite direction.
‘For all we know, the service finished hours ago,’ I said, frustrated by the maze of medieval streets.
We suddenly found ourselves faced with a second larger town square.
‘Which way now?’ Theo asked.
With their tall French windows and narrow balconies, apartments sat above shops and restaurants and trying to get my bearings, I compared our position to the map on my screen. ‘It should be over there,’ I said.
Sandwiched between buildings, there was a flight of steps, at the top of which sat another gate providing a second abbey entrance. Charging straight up, Theo grabbed the metalwork with both hands and shook. ‘This is locked too,’ he said, turning to make his way back down.
Keeping the abbey to our right, we continued on, but my impatience grew with every step. ‘This bloody service better have been worth it,’ I said.
Our route sloped away from the pedestrianised area and onto another main road.
My phone indicated we turn right and passing a grocery shop we began an uphill trek.
Finding ourselves surrounded by yet more houses, the road veered right again and Theo spotted the Bureau du Maire on our left.
‘That’s got to be a good sign,’ he said.
My shoulders slumped as much to my relief I spotted another set of wrought-iron gates.
‘Third time lucky,’ Theo said. ‘And look.’ He pointed to an event advertisement announcing that evening’s concert de chants de Noel.
As we picked up speed, I gestured to the abbey. ‘The lights are still on,’ I said. ‘We’re not too late.’
We charged towards the building with its mullioned windows, ornate stonework and Lombard architecture, which contrasted sharply with the modern reception area we entered in to.
Made up of perfectly plastered white walls, a contemporary reception desk and a slick photo display, glancing around I couldn’t find anything that would draw staff’s attention to our presence.
‘I can’t hear any music,’ Theo said.
I strained my ears and like him heard nothing. Glancing around, I spotted a door in the corner and determined to further investigate, I headed straight for it.
‘Where are you going?’ Theo asked. ‘Shouldn’t we wait for someone.’
‘And if no one comes?’ I indicated the street outside. ‘I’m not going through all that palaver for nothing.’
As I stepped out into a quadrangle, the continued silence bothered me and hoping our nearly five-hour race from one Arles to another hadn’t been for nothing, I followed the path that led under the courtyard cloisters until we reached another door.
‘I’m not sure we should be doing this,’ Theo said.
Opening it, I took Theo’s elbow and pulled him inside with me.
The estate agent in me immediately took over and my eyes widened at the imposing and austere three-aisle nave that greeted us.
My gaze drew upward to its limestone vaulted ceiling, and I couldn’t help but admire the circular apse flanked by apsidioles.
To the right there were friezes and murals filled with religious iconography – angels with wings covering their eyes, lions, saints, and Christ being welcomed by crowds.
Although another glance around the peopleless space, I couldn’t deny I’d have liked the abbey a whole lot more if Mum and Jackson had been in it.
Theo slid into a pew. ‘So what do we do now?’
I sat down next to him and as much at a loss, I sighed. ‘I haven’t a clue.’
There was a sudden bang ahead of us and as the noise echoed around the abbey walls two elderly women came into view.
One wore a long woollen coat and a thick scarf, and her white hair was tied into a bun at the back of her head. The other was dressed in a black padded jacket with a fur-trimmed collar and had short grey hair. Clocking our presence, they seemed as surprised to see us as we were to see them.
‘Puis-je vous aider?’ the first of them asked.
‘There can’t have been many English visitors at this carol concert,’ Theo said, his voice quiet. ‘So if Maeve and Jackson were here…’ He fixed a smile on his face and stood up as the women approached.
Observing the three of them, I might not have understood their words, but the serious expressions and head shaking didn’t give me hope.
‘Merci beaucoup,’ Theo said. He turned to me. ‘They don’t know anything.’
I rose to my feet. ‘Merci, madames.’
Leaving them to it, Theo and I headed back through the cloisters into the reception area and out onto the street.
Stood in the cold, I looked up to the heavens. Dad if you’re watching all this, I need your help.