Page 34 of When We Were Friends
The driver turned into a long, narrow road and passed cyclists coming in the opposite direction. At the end, he pulled up outside a grey, stone house. Like the other properties, it had eggshell-blue shutters. Next door, a wrinkled man in a beret stood on his lawn, despite the grass still being wet from the rain last night, digging vigorously into the border of soil. He glared at them. Morgan pulled her spring anorak tighter, despite the morning sunshine. She paid the taxi driver and then took a photo of the house. Number 14. It took her back to the girls’ fourteenth birthdays, Morgan and Emily’s were in September, the others’ in October. They went to Afflecks, the quirky indoor market in Manchester city centre, and found a stall selling cheap silver jewellery. They each bought the same necklace bearing a small leaf pendant, representing the society’s beloved hazel tree.
As soon as she got home after the prom, Morgan had thrown hers away.
Behind her, Paige stood in her blazer, Emily a thick jumper – her winter coat was too warm – and Tiff in a tailored, suede jacket. Morgan flexed her hands. Her heart pounded as she reached for the doorbell. She had a rucksack on her back, organised as ever, containing plasters, painkillers, a water bottle, an umbrella. Paige sported an understated beige handbag. Tiff’s was Louis Vuitton to match her suitcase. Emily wore a black bum bag.
Morgan pressed the doorbell again. Then knocked. She went to the front window and peered in. The bookshelves and magazine rack were bare, a small table clear and the fire grate empty. She went to look down the side of the house. A tall gate prevented a look in the back garden. She made her way back to the others who were waiting at the end of the drive.
‘The building is empty. Out of all the scenarios I’d imagined, that wasn’t one. What next?’
The man gardening next door shot them a scowl.
‘Despite his frowns, that man keeps going to get up but then crouches down again,’ whispered Paige. ‘Might be worth going over. He’s definitely got something to say.’
‘His expression isn’t very friendly,’ said Morgan.
‘Bonjour!’ called Tiff and waved to him. ‘If I was him, I’d want an invitation to talk,’ she muttered to the others.
The man stood up and came over.
‘Parlez-vous anglais?’ asked Morgan.
‘Yes,’ he said and folded his arms.
‘You’ve made our day by wearing a beret,’ said Emily.
‘Yes, I have a string of onions somewhere too,’ he said and rolled his eyes.
Emily’s smile widened. ‘Of course, us English drink only tea and eat scones, whilst talking about the weather and Royal family… Your English is very good, by the way.’
For a second, his tanned face looked less wrinkled. ‘Merci. I’ve worked in the tourist industry along this coast my whole life.’ Begrudgingly, he held out his hand. ‘Henri. Has the house finally been put on the market?’ he said. ‘Are you four moving in?’
‘No. We’re looking for the previous owner – or owners,’ said Morgan.
He glanced at Number 14. ‘Did you know Gervais? I’m sorry to inform you that he passed a few months ago. A heart attack.’
Gervais? Had Sylvie remarried? ‘Oh, no, we didn’t, sorry about that,’ said Morgan. ‘Actually… we’re looking for information about a mother and son who used to live here, Sylvie and Hugo. They moved here in 2004. She died but he might still be here.’
He shrugged. ‘Sorry. Before my time, Gervais lived alone. The Duponts on the other side didn’t move in until the year after me, in 2018, so couldn’t help you either. When I arrived, a man around your age owned the house, let his friends live there. They played music at full volume, dumped rubbish on the front lawn, revved engines and more than once, I smelt weed. I suspected the worst when your group turned up. I couldn’t go through that again.’
‘He wasn’t called Hugo?’ asked Morgan.
Henri shook his head. ‘Whereas Gervais was a blessing. The quietest, most polite man on earth.’ He leant on his spade. ‘Delphine, opposite, she’s lived here longer than anyone and…’ He pointed. ‘Voila, there she is, filling her bird feeders. She doesn’t speak English; if you like, I could interpret.’
They crossed the narrow road. Henri went up the drive and spoke to her. Carrying a bag of bird seed, she approached. Large sunspots lay on her hands and cheeks like small pools of coffee. Henri spoke to her and she replied in rapid French.
‘She says Sylvie was a lovely lady. She rented the house, having grown up around the corner. Her parents passed not long before she did. The dad had a stroke. Sylvie used to say her mum died of a broken heart. Just two days before her accident, Sylvie and Hugo moved into her childhood home. It made sense as the mortgage was paid. This house, opposite, where they used to live, stood empty for a while but eventually, new tenants moved in.’
‘That could explain why Mlle Vachon never got a reply to her sympathy card,’ said Emily. ‘Sylvie hadn’t given her their new address yet, and they hadn’t spoken for a while. Perhaps Hugo didn’t go back to the old house to collect post, and if Mlle Vachon rang him on the landline, no one would have been in their old address to pick up.’
‘Imagine losing the three people you cared about most, one after another like that,’ said Tiff. ‘If that was me, I wouldn’t be on top of everything.’
Silence fell for a moment.
‘What happened to Hugo?’ asked Morgan, voice coming out raspy.
Delphine spoke some more. ‘Bon, okay,’ Henri said and he turned back to Morgan and the others. ‘Hugo called by to see Delphine a few months after Sylvie passed, said he couldn’t live on the estate any longer, too many memories. She’s very sorry but she’s forgotten the rest of what he said. You see, the morning of the day Hugo visited, her husband had packed his bags – dropped it on her that he’d been having an affair and was leaving. That day and the following weeks are a bit of a blur.’
Morgan gave Delphine an understanding nod before staring back at the house. She half-expected Hugo to stride past, cocky as ever. Right this minute, he could be a few streets away, living his life, unaware he was a father. Unless he’d had kids with someone else by now. Olly could have siblings he knew nothing about.
