Page 6 of The Magic of Provence (A Year in France #3)

Jeannie Gilchrist sat in silence, her heart breaking as Laura quietly told her that Fiona was in Tourrettes-sur-Loup and why she had fled from Scotland.

And the real reason she’d distanced herself from her family.

She stayed silent as Laura drove from the airport in Nice towards the mountains, absorbing the shocking revelations, and then fished in her handbag to find the neat rectangle of fine folded cotton she knew was in there.

People shook their heads at her using old-fashioned handkerchiefs instead of tissues these days, but she loved the embroidery and the pretty, scalloped edges of the soft fabric.

She wiped her eyes and then drew in a new breath, steeling herself to face whatever needed to be faced.

To do whatever needed to be done and, above all, to protect her precious daughters.

As she always had, since the perfect life she had been lucky enough to find had managed to shift from a dream into a nightmare.

Laura was slowing the car and Jeannie recognised the stone wall and the wrought-iron gate of the wee French house that represented another unexpected corner she had turned in her life.

La Maisonette.

The house her daughters had inherited from an uncle they’d never met.

The brother-in-law that Jeannie had never met because he’d been an adventurer who could never find the time to get back home.

She’d only set foot in the cottage once, on Ellie’s wedding day, well over a year ago now, and the disquiet she’d felt within those ancient stone walls had led to her choosing to stay with Laura in Vence last Christmas.

Any reluctance to go inside now was completely overridden, however, by the need to comfort Fiona.

To hold the baby that needed her the most right now.

‘Is Ellie still with her?’

‘No. She rang me while I was waiting for you at the airport to say that she’d taken some dinner over, but she’s gone back to her house.

She thinks it might be better if you both have some time together – just the two of you.

She wanted me to wait this morning, before I came to see her, and I knew she was right.

Fi hates being crowded and she might never have told us what was really going on if we’d cornered her.

’ A small smile tugged at one corner of her mouth.

‘And, you know, sometimes you just need your mammy.’

There was a catch in Laura’s voice that brought new tears to Jeannie’s eyes.

Motherhood had softened her eldest daughter, hadn’t it?

Or maybe it was the love she’d found with that gorgeous Frenchman of hers.

Whatever the reason, the bossy, slightly sharp but capable child she’d probably relied on too much in those early, dark days had become a woman she was more than simply proud of.

Someone who was developing a compassion that hadn’t always been one of her strongest traits.

Not that she’d tell Laura that, of course.

She knew that the soft brush of her fingers across Laura’s cheek with even a hint of her own smile would convey her appreciation of who she had become, the care she was taking of her sister and of the space she was giving her to be alone with her middle daughter.

The front door was unlocked and Jeannie let herself into La Maisonette.

‘It’s just me,’ she called quietly.

Fi jumped up from the sofa and came straight into her mother’s arms.

‘Oh, Mam… I’m so sorry…’ Her voice broke. ‘I’ve messed everything up, haven’t I?’

‘ Och … mo leanna ,’ Jeannie murmured. ‘Dinnae fret now… It’s okay…’ She was holding Fi so tightly it was a wonder that she wasn’t struggling to escape, but it felt as if she needed to try making up for all these recent years of not being able to hug, or even touch, this beloved child of hers.

Tears were fair streaming down her face again. She’d thought she’d lost Fiona so long ago.

And she thought it was somehow her fault.

Had she treated her differently to Laura and Eleanor?

Because she was the one who reminded her most of her father?

The way he had been before the troubles started.

The gentle giant of a Scotsman that she’d met by chance when he’d come into the emergency department of a hospital in Glasgow needing a wound stitched.

The man with the shock of curly auburn hair and the darkest brown eyes who’d looked as if he couldn’t believe his luck when she’d agreed to meet him for a drink after work.

Had she not looked as carefully as she should have because, even if she denied that it could make any difference, she could see too many echoes of the man she’d loved so much? The man who’d simply walked out of her life.

It was true, that saying, that a mother could only be as happy as her least happy child.

She’d known, in her heart, that her least happy child had always been Fiona no matter how well she’d managed to hide it even as a young bairn.

It was no defence that she was denying her own pain because caring for the physical needs of her daughters to have a roof over their heads and food on the table had to be what mattered the most. But that was so long ago.

There was no excuse for having let it become just the way things were.

No excuses now. Jeannie wasn’t going to let this opportunity slip through her fingers.

‘It’s going to be okay,’ she whispered again. ‘You’re where you need to be, hinny. With your family.’ She finally relinquished her hold on Fi to fish inside the sleeve of her cardigan. ‘ Och … where’s my hanky got to?’

‘Oh, Mam… I’ve made you cry. I’m sorry… this is all my fault.’

‘More like my fault, I’d say.’ The hanky was a bit damp but it still worked. She could feel Fi staring at her as she wiped her eyes.

‘You were never one to make a fuss,’ she said.

‘Eleanor would cry and Laura would get cross but you learned to bottle things up and keep them to yourself.’ With a sigh, she sank onto the couch and shook her head.

‘I helped you do that and I shouldn’t have.

I encouraged you to go and spend so much time with those ponies at the riding school.

I helped you find the money to chase your dream of being a vet, and look how far that took you away from your family. ’

Fi sat down on the sofa beside her. ‘You were doing what you knew made me happy, Mam. Like you did for all of us. You were the best mother we could have wished for and… and I’ve let you down. Don’t ever say it was your fault. Please…’

Jeannie knew how the protection had gone in both directions. They were all bullied, but they couldn’t have gone anywhere else, could they?

What if Gordon had come back as unexpectedly as he’d left, and they were no longer there?

There were some friends who stayed loyal but Jeannie knew the girls had been taunted at school and she’d been subjected to the kind of put-downs that women could be so good at.

The way a conversation would stop the instant she walked into the post office.

The flick of a glance down her body and back up, to meet her gaze so fleetingly it was a blatant dismissal of any worth she might have.

She ignored it, to try and protect her girls, and maybe they did the same, to protect her.

Never talking about it was the easiest way to try and move on. To let their lives heal.

To hope that hearts could also heal.

Was it possible that this was actually the real beginning of that happening?

‘On one condition,’ Jeannie said. She took another breath to emphasise how important her next words were.

‘Don’t you ever say it was your fault, either.

None of it. Your daddy leaving us made life hard and we all did the best we could.

That another man could have hurt you even more makes me sick to my stomach…

’ Jeannie had to stop speaking and press her fingers to her mouth.

‘I don’t know how to help you, leanna … I wish I did. ’

‘It helps that you’re here.’ Fi said softly. ‘That it’s not a secret any longer.’

‘It should never have had to be a secret. He should never have got away with it. I’d like to tell that Professor McKay exactly what I think of him. It’s not too late to report him. For him to get what he deserves.’

‘It is too late,’ Fi told her. ‘I heard he died last year. Cancer.’

‘Karma, more like,’ Jeannie muttered. ‘Mebbe he did get what he deserved, then.’

She reached to hug Fi again and, in the silence of that embrace, the gurgle of an empty stomach was loud enough to make them both smile.

‘Was that you or me?’

‘Me,’ Fi admitted. ‘I haven’t eaten much of anything for a long time. I’ve had such a knot inside of me.’

Jeannie had a sudden, overwhelming urge to feed her daughter. To nurture her. ‘Do you think you could eat something now, pet?’

Fi nodded. ‘It does smell good in here, doesn’t it? It’s something Ellie made yesterday and she put the leftovers in a pot to heat up slowly.’

It smelled like meat that had already been slowly simmering in a rich sauce for many hours.

‘I think it’s beef. Something French with a whole lot of wine in it.’

‘A boeuf bourguignon? Or a daube de boeuf?’

‘Aye, that second one, I think. She’s left a baguette to slice up to go with it. Would you like some?’

‘I’d love some. Shall I get it?’

‘No, you stay there.’ Fi’s smile was almost shy. ‘I want to look after you for once.’

Jeannie let her, because she knew so well that looking after someone else was often the best way to get past things that were threatening to come crashing down around you.

She’d done it for years, looking after her girls.

Ignoring the people who wanted to punish her for what her husband had done.

Going to work every day – or night, sometimes – as a nurse in the local hospital so that she could pay the bills and buy the food to cook for them and to keep the house clean and the garden looking like someone cared about it.

She watched Fi moving around the tiny kitchen, slicing up the long roll of crusty bread and stirring the pot of stew that was heating.

No. It was a daube de boeuf . And a baguette .

Because she was in France now.

And, oh… the sound of the language always took her back in time.

How long was it now? Coming up to almost forty years, for goodness’ sake.

It had been on their first date that she discovered the good-looking Scotsman whose hand she’d stitched could speak fluent French.

It had already been love at first sight for Jeannie but listening to Gordon’s deep voice murmuring in her ear in the language of love when he’d kissed her for the first time had taken everything to a completely new level.

She could never love another man as much as she’d loved him.

Fi opened a cupboard to take out two bowls. Then she opened a drawer and Jeannie could hear the clatter of cutlery being chosen, but she was still thinking about the past.

Despite everything, that love had never quite died, had it? Her life might have healed but her heart never had. Not completely. How did anybody ever get over losing the love of their life?

She still loved Gordon Gilchrist.

She still missed him.

No wonder it had been so disquieting to come back to this country.

To step into a house that Gordon’s brother, Jeremy, had owned and presumably used as a holiday home in later years.

It had fair given her the shivers when she’d walked in the day of Ellie’s wedding and had seen that painting hanging over the fireplace.

She deliberately avoided looking at it now.

That Fiona was here and needed her family was quite enough for them all to be dealing with.

There was wee Lili’s first birthday party the day after tomorrow too.

This wasn’t the time to even think about what Jeannie had known she’d have to face during this, her third visit to this part of the world.

There were wisps of steam rising from the bowls Fi was putting on the table and the aroma made Jeannie realise that she was hungrier than she had expected after such an emotional upset. Even if she wasn’t, sharing a meal, just herself and Fiona, was exactly what she wanted to do.

‘Come and eat,’ Fi invited. ‘I feel like I might fall asleep again otherwise.’

‘Good food and sleep,’ Jeannie nodded. ‘It’s exactly what you need. I’ll sleep here too,’ she added. ‘So you’re not alone.’

‘You don’t need to do that, Mam,’ Fi said.

‘I’ll be fine.’ She put a larger bowl filled with slices of the crusty baguette on the table.

‘I don’t think I’ve shared your bed since I was three years old and I was jealous of the new bairn you’d brought home from the hospital.

I’m no’ jealous of Ellie any longer, I promise. ’

It was so good to hear her huff of laughter that it brought tears to Jeannie’s eyes.

‘I can sleep on the sofa,’ she said. ‘Or the little bed upstairs. And it’s for my benefit as much as yours, hinny.

’ The need to be close to her child squeezed her heart hard enough to bring the threat of more tears closer, but she blinked and managed to find a smile.

‘It’s a new day tomorrow,’ she added. ‘And we’ve got Lili’s party to look forward to. ’

Jeannie stood up to move to the table but she couldn’t help her gaze straying sideways for a fleeting moment to look at that painting of the ruined building in the meadow of wildflowers.

She knew she was going to feel that ripple of sensation down her spine again – a mix of trepidation and conflict that added up to real fear.

But there was something else there as well.

Something that hadn’t been there the first time she’d seen this artwork.

Something that felt like… hope?

She glanced at where she’d left her handbag. The urge to open it and retrieve what she knew was in there was strong but she pushed it aside.

This was Fiona’s time.

And then it would also be Lili’s time.

Maybe after that it would be time for Jeannie to admit to an even bigger reason that had drawn her back here to France.