Page 19

Suitcases were stacked in the hall, and the sun was just about peeping up behind the hills. Dad insisted on packing the car but allowed me to move some luggage. Having watched my parents’ burgundy Range Rover disappear down the road, I meandered along the front path, touched the lavender to release the scent and thought about Danny. Mum was right, I should have chatted with him more last night.

Rather than going back to sleep, I resolved to invite Danny around for breakfast and ask him directly about the kiss, hopefully fixing the memory clunking in my head all night. Not quite, ‘How was it for you?’ I would adapt my approach according to his reaction, trying not to improvise my way into trouble. Danny’s phone gave me the engaged signal. Worried I would lose my nerve, I let out a grunt of frustration.

Radio 6 blasted out through the cottage because I did not want to face the silence. Standing at the open patio doors, I admired the newly cut lawn and considered how I would add more character with a colourful array of pots and flowers. Bored of strong Yorkshire tea, I selected some of Aunt Ada’s green tea with mint. A flutter of nerves rushed through my body when I noticed Danny calling my phone.

‘I’m sorry, Maisie. I can’t help you to finish the decorating. I must go to France,’ said Danny.

My shoulders drooped. ‘Oh no. I hope it’s nothing serious. I’ll miss you. Do you really have to go?’

My final question lingered and caused him to pause. ‘I’m sorry to let you down. Laura has been in discussions to sell her half of the business to some competitors. I have to get out there.’ He sounded distant.

I let out a sigh. ‘I’m sure it’ll be fine.’ I tried to mimic his usual reassuring tone but already sensed a huge gap forming in my life now he was leaving. It was not the time to ask about last night, so I tried to lighten the situation. ‘You’ll charm the people.’

‘Bloody hell, Maisie. These people are our enemies and want to destroy the competition.’

‘I didn’t mean… Sorry, Danny.’ My voice cracked because he had never lost his temper with me before.

‘I told her not to go until we’d checked them out more. She never listens,’ he mumbled. ‘She sent me messages about the meeting. I ignored her because I thought it was a ploy to get me back to France. She’s amazing, beautiful and clever and I suppose I didn’t trust myself. I had to keep my distance from her and now I’ve put my business at risk.’ He shouted the words as if chastising himself.

‘Don’t be so hard on yourself,’ I soothed, switching off the sensation caused by the delicious kiss.

There was no response.

‘Keep in touch. Let me know how it goes,’ I said.

The phone went dead.

I let out a huge sigh. Was that the end of a potential relationship? Placing the bacon and egg in the fridge, I made myself tea and toast with honey. The door opened. I hoped Danny would call in before he went off. The ‘ beautiful, amazing and clever’ woman called Laura was pulling him back to France. He still loved her, and I was the girl next door.

I took my coffee into the study and googled Danny. There were photos of him standing on a mountain next to a tall blonde woman. I saved the photograph then enlarged it to see more detail. Laura had a huge beaming smile and the same greyish blue eyes as Danny. She wasn’t wearing any make-up and was toned and tanned. She was cycling, fell walking, running, canoeing, swimming and more. Her face beamed with joy in all of the shots, and I felt a little pang of envy because I struggled to walk up a mountain with my fear of heights. Photos of Danny made me smile and sent a little tingle through my body. Laura was an ultimate action woman and quite different to me - no wonder he treated me like his little sister. He probably preferred to kiss, suspended above the Grand Canyon on a zip wire. There were no messages on my phone, so I opened a document for school and began to plan lessons. Shoulders slumped at the computer; I shrugged off the feeling that something bad was going to happen and decided to dig into the pile of letters Jemima had given me.

Darling Felix,

The one-way plane ticket to Paris was such a generous gift. In Business Class champagne flowed and so did my nerves until I was in his arms again.

We recognised each other instantly. Though lines on our faces tell the tale of our lives, our eyes remain the same but without those blinding stars of first love. Once upon a lifetime, I was the love of his life. Memories of first love in springtime fluttered to the ground like delicate blossom.

Painting and objets d’art are crammed into his apartment, and I love it. He paints, I write and we both dwell in companionable silence.

My heart aches for my dear, sweet Bronte. I abandoned her on the evening I left for Paris. Time to pack up my latter years and begin again. Who knows, I may just disappear in Paris and walk forever in the footsteps of happy days. But I must also try to find Bella.

Please take care of my Maisie as she is precious to me and like a daughter.

Ada. X

Aunt Ada had spent her entire life in love with this man, and I hoped he was kind to her. I breathed in when I thought of, I may just disappear in Paris. There was a sadness and finality in the tone, and now I worried she was not there. ‘But I have to check,’ I said out loud.

An email came from the airline to remind me of the date and time of my flight to Paris in two days. Perfect timing! However, I realised I needed to organise the accommodation. There was no chance of getting Danny’s advice now, but Jemima told me Felix had contacts. I messaged Felix, asking him for recommendations of accommodation in Paris. Feeling brave, I suggested he get me the best price he could.

*

Having tidied away the breakfast dishes, I went down to the potting shed in search of more evidence about Aunt Ada. But I could not stop assessing the evening with Danny. Strange how the promise of love can creep up on you like the sudden burst of colour in summer, rather than arrive with the mighty sound of a gong. Nestled into the leather chair, I convinced myself that it was almost as good as a hug. When I stood up, the chair peeled away from my legs and I thought about my aunt. ‘Aunt Ada, I need to focus on you. I’m sorry.’

I looked straight ahead at the filing cabinet. Information was in there; I knew it. The cabinet was locked so I hit it with the palm of my hand. A pile of books and dust fell to the floor; I let everything scatter at my feet whilst I searched in the tiny pen pots on the desk, but there was no key. I hoped to find a key hidden on a ledge behind a picture or beneath a pile of books. A stream of light burst through a gap in the wooden section of the wall. On closer inspection, I found a line of bolts beneath the strip of light. When I opened the bolts, the wooden panel moved outwards until it became fixed up in the air like a serving hatch. A view of the tranquil meadow presented itself like a picture. I guessed my aunt wanted to keep this view of her meadow a secret, a hideaway from the village to read and think. Perfect. I put my hands on the ledge, admired the view, and felt metal beneath my hand. I saw a tiny key. ‘Found it!’ I shouted, jumping up and down.

The top drawer of the cabinet opened with a thud. Documents were piled into the drawer rather than filed neatly. There was a green cardboard file with a huge rubber band around it on top of the pile. Unable to resist, I opened it. There was another map of Paris on top with various areas and streets highlighted. I found annotated notes on A4 photos of streets such as ‘sit here’, ‘investigate this apartment’, ‘visit bistro’ and ‘return to the magic of Sacré Coeur to light a candle’. I traced the handwriting with my finger and wondered when Aunt Ada had written these words. I moved the photos to one side to discover a cutting from an old Mystery Writers Uncovered magazine dated 1979.

Bella is in her twenties yet wears classic clothes from the fifties. She loves her trademark full skirts and matching scarves. Paris Secrets is now a bestselling novel, but she shrugged her shoulders and lit a cigarette when I asked if there would be a sequel.

‘Place du Tertre is crammed with many, many stories but the characters will knock on the door of my Paris apartment when it is time for them to play,’ she explained as she flicked her cigarette into the ashtray. ‘I never force my characters or bully them into living their lives for readers’ entertainment.’ She clicked her fingers to call the waiter. ‘My publisher knows not to push me for books as I will always produce something.’

I sat for a while rereading the article, building an image of Bella in my mind’s eye. The annotated map indicated exactly where Aunt Ada was in Paris so that had to be my starting point for accommodation. When I closed the file and shoved it in the cabinet, I noticed a photograph of the street sign - Rue d’Orchampt. As I reached to inspect it, I read ‘hero or murderer?’ scribbled on the reverse of another photo so I turned it over and Felix’s familiar, confident face looked at me. What? I shoved Felix’s photo into the cabinet, then slammed it shut.

I padded towards the house in my flip-flops in search of a big pot of coffee and caught a stone underneath my foot. Hobbling along, I refrained from swearing. Jemima’s music drifted out, followed with a chorus of giggles from her, Felix and Amelia. I glanced towards Danny’s house and wanted to see his skinny legs dangling over the fence. White, wooden shutters now blocked the light in all the windows, signalling I needed to close the tiny window that had opened in my heart.

The book barrow wobbled when I tipped in a couple of books. Aware of everyone watching me, I fixed a grin on my face.

Camellia asked, ‘Are you OK, love? You’ve got a strange grin on your face.’

‘I’m fine, thanks, Camellia.’

She squeezed my arm and said, ‘Don’t fret, love. Danny will come back soon, you’ll see. Laura was a lovely girl, but she was too glamorous for the lad. I don’t think she liked us very much either. Laura and Danny aren’t a good match, not like me and my Peter. Oh, that reminds me.’ She opened up her handbag and removed an envelope. ‘Peter managed to get hold of some French newspapers about the boat accident in Paris. I don’t see Ada’s name on the list of people injured but French never was my strongest subject. You know, I’ve got a hunch Felix knows more than he lets on. And there’s a light on in his studio summer house until the early hours. What’s he up to?’ She nudged me with her elbow.

Camellia’s comments about Danny made me feel happy, but I did not want my feelings for him to be broadcast to the entire village. And I calculated she was trying to lure me into expressing opinions about Felix. ‘Thanks, Camellia.’ I placed the envelope in my pocket, thinking it was a good sign. ‘Nice to see you and thanks for your concern. I must get on.’

Having managed to get rid of Camellia, I ran outside to the potting shed with my laptop under my arm, closed the door and secured the latch. ‘Calm down and drink tea,’ I said, reading the sign above the kettle. I shook my head at the idea Felix was involved in my aunt’s disappearance. No. Not possible. When I picked up the kettle, I noticed it was tepid as if it had been boiled recently. The leather armchair was also still warm. There was a familiar scent of vanilla. Had Nora been inside the potting shed while Camellia was chatting with me? Having skimmed the cutting of the French newspaper article, I realised it was simply a report of the event. But the fact my aunt was not on the list rekindled the hope again. Though I did ponder why Peter had felt the need to get hold of a copy of the newspaper article when it was available on the internet.

The kettle boiled. I made a cup of mint tea and burnt my tongue when I sipped the scolding hot tea. Moving the tea to one side, I wrote a review of Lonely Heights. A message from my school mentor appeared in the corner of my laptop so I clicked on it.

Dear Ms Bloom,

I have not yet received your schemes of work and sample lesson plans for the autumn term. You agreed to provide this information when you signed your contract for Mentor Support.

Please let me know if you require additional support to deliver this documentation. I can offer you a day of paid support during the holiday.

Please confirm receipt of this email within the hour.

Charlotte

Student Mentor

The paid day of support suggested I was on a support programme before I had even started my career, so I emailed that I did not require support, knowing I had to write the documents as soon as possible.

Staring at the wall, I hatched ideas and jotted them down. The only ideas buzzing in my head were the investigations into blogging and my aunt’s disappearance. I used the energy to create lessons where the pupils would investigate the case of a missing person. I opened Word and planned a series of lessons. Ideas flowed and I covered the skills required. I ignored my phone ringing. Shadows crept across the room until I switched on the lights. There was no time to eat. At one o’clock in the morning, I opened up my email and pressed send. I stretched and then stepped into the garden for fresh air.

Shutters remained closed at Danny’s, but there was a light on in Felix’s house. He waved from his desk located on the top floor. Unsure if he waved at me, or some mysterious woman in his own garden, my wave was rather half hearted. One minute he was chastising me for mocking his art and the next he was charm itself. The note in my aunt’s file labelling him as a potential murderer flashed through my mind. Could I be his next victim? My heart started to beat. I scurried towards the cottage. Why did my aunt want someone like this to watch out for me in her absence?