of them. I tell myself that she probably doesn’t want to feel obliged to invite me along every time she goes out, and of course we are always under pressure in the office. And yet it niggles away at me, the distance that seems to have grown between us and the slight feeling of awkwardness when we are in the apartment together.
But I want to hear more of the story which is mine as well as hers. I feel the need to know more about who my mother and my grandmother really were. What history has been passed through them to me? I need to know who I really am, too.
There’s that programme on TV isn’t there, which I never really paid much attention to, but which my stepmother used to watch sometimes, about people finding out about their ancestors. I vaguely recall that they looked up the census and marriage records and death certificates online to trace the lines of family through the generations.
Back in the apartment, after a moment’s hesitation, I open my laptop and I begin my own search . . .
And I find it’s easy enough. I just have to register with the General Records Office website, fill in the details of the person I am looking for and they will send me the certificates in a couple of weeks’ time. I hesitate for a few moments, trying to recall my mother’s maiden name, and then I type ‘Claire Redman’ into the search form and ‘Meynardier’ into the field marked ‘Previous Name’. Then I check the boxes marked ‘Marriage Certificate’ and ‘Death Certificate’, before pressing ‘Submit Request’.
1940
‘You look nice.’ Mireille watched from her bedroom doorway as Claire smoothed her hair, looking in the mirror in the hallway before pulling a coat over her dark blue dress. ‘Are you going somewhere special?’
It was New Year’s Eve and Paris was in a party mood, in spite of the war. Claire shrugged and reached for her key to the apartment.
‘Wait!’ Mireille laid a hand on the sleeve of Claire’s coat, where the woollen twill was worn and fraying slightly at the cuff. ‘I’m sorry. I forgot to give you your present at Christmas. I’ve had a lot on my mind lately. But I have something for you now. Here, take it.’ She thrust a small package into Claire’s hand. ‘It will look good against your dress.’
‘It’s alright, Mireille, you don’t have to give me anything,’ Claire replied.
Her friend smiled at her. ‘I know I don’t have to give you anything, Claire, but I want to give you this. I love the necklet that you made for me – see, I’m wearing it tonight.’ Mireille stroked the narrow velvet ribbon around her neck which had a scattering of jet beads sewn on to it with invisible stitches and which fastened at the front with a silver filigree button.
Claire unwrapped the paper from Mireille’s gift and stared in disbelief at the silver locket that lay in her hand.
‘Don’t you like it?’ asked Mireille.
‘It’s not that.’ Claire shook her head. ‘But I can’t take it. Not your locket, Mireille. It’s too precious.’
She tried to hand it back, but Mireille closed her fingers around Claire’s. ‘It’s yours. A present for a good friend. I want you to have it. And I’m sorry that I haven’t been better company of late. Here, let me fasten it for you.’
Reluctantly, Claire lifted the hair from the back of her neck to allow Mireille to settle the locket in place and secure the clasp. Then, relenting, she hugged Mireille and said, ‘Well, thank you. It’s the most beautiful present I’ve ever had. And let us settle it that we will share it. As a token of our friendship. It can belong to us both.’
‘Alright then, if that means you will accept at least a half share in it.’ Mireille smiled broadly and, for a moment, she almost looked like her old, vivacious self again.
Impulsively, Claire seized her hand. ‘Come with me! Let’s go out dancing together. I know somewhere where the music and the company are good. There’s even a rumour that there’ll be champagne tonight, since it’s New Year’s Eve. Put on your red dress and come along. It’ll be fun!’
Mireille withdrew her hand and shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, Claire, I can’t. There’s someone I have to meet.’
‘Alright then, have it your own way.’ She shrugged. ‘Although I bet the people I’ll be meeting are a lot better company than whoever it is you’re hooking