Page 63 of When We Were Friends
Mlle Vachon shot them a curious look before lifting up a plate of mini onion tarts and handing them around.
George asked Emily what she’d like to drink and then the two women moved to the side, standing by the French window.
‘I wasn’t sure you’d come,’ said Morgan.
‘Me neither. It was a last-minute decision.’ Emily wore a smart blouse tucked into navy jeans and her hair had been cut and styled. It was now several inches shorter than in Cornwall. ‘But Mlle Vachon was always good to us. I brought her a tin of English biscuits, do you remember – she used to dish them out in class, after a test? Digestives, shortbread, malted milk, she’d say the French couldn’t beat our biscuits and fish and chips.’ Emily thanked George for the lemonade and he went off as the doorbell rang again. She looked out of the window. ‘Despite how things ended… I’m glad you found Hugo. Felix,’ she said, tightly.
‘Thank you for coming on the trip.’ Morgan hated the formality between them.
‘Right. Better mingle.’ Emily went into the lounge, just as Tiff walked in. They glanced at each other before Emily accepted an onion tart from Mlle Vachon and sat down beside the women still chatting about the cinema. Tiff handed a shiny, helium balloon to Mlle Vachon, along with a bottle of champagne. She directed Tiff towards the hatch and George gave her a glass of wine. Tiff then walked over to Morgan, still by the window.
‘Good of you to come,’ said Morgan politely. ‘You must have a lot of packing to do before leaving for the Isle of Wight on Wednesday.’
‘Yes, all the essentials. Toiletries. Clothes. Night light.’
‘You still don’t like the dark when you sleep on your own?’
Tiff shrugged and glanced over Morgan’s shoulder, into the garden. ‘Do you think Paige will come?’
‘I doubt it.’
‘She shouldn’t have deceived us but… I went too far, accusing her of seeing Olly as a threat.’
Morgan exhaled. ‘We probably all said a lot of things we didn’t mean.’ She picked up an olive and ate it. Today wasn’t about her, it wasn’t about The Secret Gift Society; it was about their beloved Miss Moo Moo. She went over to her. ‘Is there anything I can do to help?’ she asked Mlle Vachon. ‘Are those mini croque-monsieurs I saw? They look amazing. You made them that time we came around to visit.’
Mlle Vachon beamed. ‘Although I hope you won’t be disappointed with my cake. I may still like French savoury bits but it takes a lot to beat a good old plain Victoria sponge.’ Her voice softened. ‘How was your trip,pucette? Any luck in finding Hugo?’
Morgan faltered. ‘You’d better sit down.’
Mlle Vachon scanned the room and checked on her guests who were laughing, eating, tapping their feet to the music, Emily and Tiff on opposite sides of the room. ‘Bon, follow me.’ She led her into the kitchen. George winked and left. They sat at a tiny table pushed against the wall.
‘So… yes, we did,’ said Morgan. ‘It was quite a road trip that led us from here to France to Cornwall.’ She explained how he and Sylvie had moved into the grandparents’ house, and about his job in the French surf shop, then the one at the activity centre in Fistral. ‘He’s called Felix now.’
‘What?’ Mlle Vachon had been quiet until that point. ‘He’s changed his name? Why? When? And according to this surf shop owner, he was running away from someone?’
‘There’s more to come. He’s married to Paige. He’s been living here, in Manchester, for several years.’
Mlle Vachon’s eyes widened, bigger than ever, behind the glass lenses. ‘Hugo… I mean… Felix, and Paige, they are together? After everything that happened?’ She shook her head. ‘Why did she agree to this trip, then? Why not tell you in England?’
Morgan shrugged.
Mlle Vachon sat muttering to herself in French, shaking her head. ‘Felix… he is okay?’
‘I presume so,’ Morgan replied in a short tone. She looked sheepish. ‘Sorry, but his welfare is the least of my worries. All I want is for this to work out for Olly, with minimal upset.’ Yet Morgan couldn’t help wondering why Paige hadn’t come. Perhaps she and Felix had fallen out?
‘I understand, I do, but he was one of my best friend’s sons. Hugo… Felix, was a good boy deep down.’
Paige was good, deep down, Morgan knew that in her heart, and despite all the lies, despite the hurt, she didn’t wish her ill.
‘But you saw the way he was at school, pupils and teachers blinded by his charisma. Surely you weren’t as well?’
‘He had a… difficult home life, Morgan. Oh, I am not excusing what he did. He treated the four of you abominably. But us humans, we have two voices inside: one skilful, well-meaning, the other not so. Circumstances can make us befriend the wrong one. Felix, he…’ She sighed and patted Morgan’s hand. ‘HowisOlly? How are you holding up,pucette?’
‘Olly has phoned Felix and is still in shock. Me? I don’t know.’ Her voice trembled. ‘The four of us had a big row in Cornwall. Other secrets had come out, just as we were getting on again.’
‘Remy, time for the cake!’ called George.
Mlle Vachon got up and held out her hand. ‘Moping won’t do. Come on. Help me cut it. We have guests, plates and George’s sweet tooth waiting.’
