almost toneless as she said, ‘They were completely crushed by it.’
Joely’s heart gave an unsteady beat of pity for people she didn’t know, but who she couldn’t help but feel for.
‘And now we will end this discussion,’ Freda stated, pushing away her plate. ‘Paris is next on our agenda for the memoir. Perhaps we can do that this morning, in the den. We should be finished before Edward arrives.’
‘Of course,’ Joely agreed, ‘but now I know there’s a phone here, I’d like to make a quick call to my mother to make sure everything’s all right at home.’
Freda stared at her hard, and for one strange moment Joely thought she was going to refuse. ‘Your mother,’ she repeated, as if taking the time to recall that Joely actually had a family. ‘Yes, certainly, but wasn’t it your husband who asked you to call?’
‘He did, but I don’t want to speak to him yet.’
Freda grunted and got to her feet. ‘Help yourself,’ she said, waving a hand towards the vintage contraption with rotary dial.
After she’d gone Joely spent a ludicrous few minutes trying to master the old fashioned technique of dialling a number on a circular pad, until eventually she connected with her mother’s mobile.
‘Hello, darling,’ came the sotto voce reply. ‘I’m in a meeting. Is everything OK?’
‘Yes, fine. I was a bit worried about you, that’s all.’
‘No need to be. Do you know when you’re coming back yet?’
Joely was about to respond when she felt sure someone had picked up an extension.
‘Are you still there?’ her mother asked.
‘Yes, yes, I am. Is Holly all right?’
‘She is, but have you spoken to her, or Callum?’
Joely was immediately anxious. ‘Why?’
‘Callum is putting pressure on us to find out where you are. I wish you’d tell him, or at least call him. Listen, I’m sorry, I have to go now. Call later if you can. Or call him.’
Ringing off, Joely waited a moment to see if the phone in front of her pinged with the sound of an extension going down. It didn’t, but she remained convinced that someone had listened in to her call. And who else was there but Freda?
Deciding she probably ought to give Callum a try regardless of eavesdroppers, she had better luck with the rotary dial this time, but ended up going straight to his voicemail. As she waited for his short greeting to play out she became certain someone was listening again. ‘I don’t know why you’re so keen to speak to me,’ she told him, ‘but please stop pressuring Mum and Holly. Neither of them knows where I am, and I really don’t see that it has anything to do with you.’ There was more she wanted to say, a whole lot more, but she’d already decided it wouldn’t be on the phone, and certainly not while Freda Donahoe was listening.
‘I’m not sure,’ Freda stated, cranking open the shutters in the den as Joely settled onto a sofa with her notebook and recorder, ‘how necessary the trip to Paris is to the overall story. I’ve been going through it in my mind and I wonder, were I an editor, if I’d be saying “Where is this actually taking us?” “What more are we learning about the relationship that’s serving the memoir?” But Paris is Paris, would probably be my reply. Everyone wants to read about Paris.’
She stood staring out of the window taking in the day as she quietly assembled her thoughts. ‘Memories,’ she said softly, ‘are like this meadow, don’t you think, filled with as many nettles and stones as precious flowers and sweet-smelling grass. It’s all there but we prefer only to look at what pleases us.’ Going to the mantelpiece she picked up the photograph of her nephew and regarded it pensively before holding it out for Joely to see. ‘He’s a good-looking man,’ she said. ‘Would you agree?’
‘I would,’ Joely confirmed.
‘He’s the image of his father, Christopher. I sometimes find it hard to look at him without seeing my brother at that age and remembering …’ She broke off and went to replace the photograph on the mantelpiece. ‘We won’t talk about him today,’ she said, ‘there’s no reason to,’ and going to an upright armchair she pulled a rug over her knees and folded her hands in her lap.
‘We drove to Paris,’ she said launching straight into her story. ‘We put the car on a ferry, and when we got there …’ A hint of irony twitched at her smile. ‘The