As you said earlier, it’s personal and I don’t wish to discuss it.’
Belinda opened her mouth to protest and closed it again. If Alain didn’t want to tell her, she couldn’t make him. She hadn’t told him the full story surrounding her grandmother either. Some things were better kept private.
16
It was a subdued Belinda who arrived back at the auberge that evening. She said a quick ‘Hi’ to Fern who was in the kitchen preparing dinner, before declining to join her for their usual cup of tea and going straight to her room instead. When she went downstairs ready for dinner at seven o’clock, she made a concentrated effort to try and push all thoughts of her grandmother out of her mind.
‘You’re quiet tonight. Bad day at the office?’ Fern joked as she placed their starters and wine on the table.
‘So-so,’ Belinda said. ‘Been a funny day really.’ She took a forkful of the green salad that accompanied the walnut and onion tart Fern had made. ‘I had lunch at Yann’s with Alain – which was unusual in itself. Afterwards, he took me to see my grandmother’s grave.’
Fern stared at her, guessing that this had been an emotional visit, and waited for her to continue.
‘I have nothing but good memories of my mami. I loved spending time with her – I learnt a lot from her. Sitting out in the garden on summer evenings with a book in her hand, reading until the light had gone, was her idea of a good time. She loved gardening and reading.’ Belinda smiled. ‘She taught me how to make lace too. She was one of the last women in the village to make the traditional Breton lace coiffe. She wore hers with pride every single day. Hers was a simple head covering, not for mami the ridiculously tall hats that still come out for fetes and festivals these days.’ Belinda took a sip of the wine Fern had poured her earlier. ‘I can still probably make a lace collar but, sadly, her cooking skills didn’t rub off on me.’
‘Tch – how many people can say they can make a lace collar?’ Fern said. ‘At least you’ve got happy memories of your grandmother.’
Belinda nodded. ‘True.’ She was quiet for a moment or two, concentrating on eating her starter. ‘Delicious as per usual,’ she said, placing her knife and fork down on the plate. ‘The problem is negative memories tend to overshadow everything else if you’re not careful. I’ve been guilty of letting certain unhappy memories do that for a very long time.’
‘Is this to do with leaving France? You told me when you left but not why,’ Fern said quietly. ‘Did you not want to leave?’
‘No. I begged and pleaded with my mum to let me stay behind,’ Belinda answered. ‘Even when we got back to England, I kept on and on at her to let me return. Threw all the tantrums a teenager is so good at.’ She sighed. ‘It was weeks before Mum finally gave in and told me that Dad had been having an affair.’ Saying the words out loud to Fern brought the long-ago scene from that dreadful afternoon thirty-five years ago flooding back into her mind. Belinda gnawed on her bottom lip and closed her eyes before she began to talk about the scene that had finished her childhood and fractured her family…
For the last time, the school bus had dropped her at the top of the lane and she’d swung her bag happily as she strolled homewards. She’d finished with school. The last Baccalauréat exam, the dreaded chemistry, had been taken, she could now forget all about chemical reactions because they would have no relevance in her life ever again. She’d felt free and wonderful, with the summer stretching ahead of her. She was a country girl at heart, had never known anywhere else really. She loved the changing seasons here in Brittany (sometimes all four in a day!), the magical light that had drawn famous artists down the years to paint, the sense of history that pervaded the crop circles and the ancient woods. Of course, she’d loved visiting nearby towns, Pontivy, Carhaix, Quimper for shopping, but the thought of living in such close proximity to other people had made her shudder; she was always glad to get back home. Even if it meant eating her mum’s home-made pizza rather than being able to go to a McDonald’s like her friends who lived in a nearby town.