Page 45 of Summer at the Château
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After she’d watched a distressed Justine run away to the cottage, and allowed her own tears to run unchecked down her face, soaking her blouse, Pixie dragged herself into the château. She splashed her face with cold water, changed her top for a cotton sweater and made her way upstairs to her writing room before sinking down on one of the chairs.
Question after question leapt into her mind. How long had Frank kept the knowledge of Justine’s existence away from her? Had he ever intended to tell her he had a secret daughter? Who was her mother? Did she know her? Had Frank really led a secret life away from her for years that she’d been in the dark about? Did she want to know the details?
Pixie shuddered. It was all too much to take in. And the fact that Frank had a grandson was a bittersweet addition to the conundrum.
‘There you are,’ Charlie said, running up the stairs and bursting into the room. ‘Been looking everywhere for you. Justine said you might need some company. Why are you both so upset?’
‘Because everything has changed. Ferdie isn’t Frank’s son like I was foolish enough to be beginning to believe, he’s his grandson. Which makes Justine his—’
‘Daughter,’ Charlie said, sitting down on the spare chair. ‘I have to admit, I did wonder. There’s a certain resemblance, especially when she smiles.’
Pixie looked at him. ‘You saw that? Why didn’t I? I jumped straight to the conclusion that she and Frank…’ her voice wavered. ‘I was constantly watching Ferdie, convincing myself that he looked like Frank.’
‘He does. But he looks like Justine too.’ Charlie hesitated. ‘Is Justine being Frank’s daughter so bad?’
Pixie closed her eyes and nodded. ‘Yes, it truly is.’
‘Why?’
‘Because it means that at a time in our lives when I was going through hell trying to have a baby, he found consolation somewhere else and was unfaithful to me.’
Charlie was silent.
‘Maybe he was unfaithful to me with more than one woman? Maybe it was with a work colleague? A friend of mine?’ Pixie wrung her hands together, her fingers catching on Frank’s ring and she twisted it round and round. ‘I don’t know what to do now,’ she said. ‘I don’t think I can face Justine today, but I am going to have to soon. There are things I need to know. Starting with who her mother is and how long the affair with Frank went on.’ She groaned in despair. ‘I wish Mum was here.’
‘She’ll be back the day after tomorrow,’ Charlie answered. ‘Do you want me to pick her up?’
‘Thanks for the offer, but I’ll go. At least in the car we can talk without fear of being interrupted.’
30
Gwen pushed her small case onto the bottom shelf in the locker room on the ‘Pont Aven’ ferry, relieved she didn’t have to drag it around with her for the next six or seven hours. She made her way out onto the deck, resolving that as soon as the boat was underway and the Devonshire Cornish coastline began to fade into the distance she’d make for the cafe and find some coffee and a croissant. First, though, she was determined to spend some time in the fresh air and enjoy watching all the activity on the water as the boat left port, making for the open Channel.
The summer weather was perfect for the journey, with the sea as calm as it ever was, something for which Gwen was grateful for. She watched as people took photos of the frigate passing them on its way into the Devonport Docks, as the ferry reached open water and picked up speed. Standing there looking out to sea, Gwen became lost in her thoughts.
The last forty-eight hours had passed in a blur. Gus and Sarah had stayed with her for the two nights, but Annabelle and Mimi had carried on up the motorway to home, anxious to see Harry. Yesterday, Sarah had driven her to the hospital for her appointment, which, thankfully, had given her the all-clear for another year. This morning the three of them had got up early for Gus and Sarah to drive her to the ferry port for the early sailing and now they too, would be on their way home to Carmarthen. Gwen had the strangest feeling, as if she too, was now on her way home. How could that be? Her home was in Devon, not France, but stepping on board the boat, she’d felt such a wave of incomprehensible relief – a sense of looking forward to returning to the château, to going home.
Would there have been any developments with finding out who Justine and Ferdie were exactly? She knew and understood how much Pixie was hurting over the fact that Frank had kept two such major secrets from her in the last few years. Gwen still found it impossible to believe he’d set out to hurt her deliberately, even if it had been a calculated decision on his part to lie by omission. She was convinced he must have had good reasons for acting the way he did. And the sooner the truth was out in the open, the better. Once Pixie knew the truth, she could deal with it.
Since they’d been at the château, Gwen had seen Pixie slowly come back to life after the shock of Frank’s death. If only she could somehow persuade her to at least think about a future in France, Gwen suspected the healing process would be further helped. Over the last few weeks, Gwen had come to the conclusion that it would be the biggest mistake of Pixie’s life to sell the château at the end of summer. Mistakes could rarely be rectified, however much one regretted making them. Something she could give a masterclass in if she was ever asked, starting with her own very first mistake: never returning to Brittany until this year.
A group of children came past, the eldest a girl holding a toddler boy firmly by the hand, and a little girl of maybe five, who was concentrating on hopping first on one foot and then on the other and then twirling around. ‘Jessie, just stop it, walk properly. We need to find Mum and Dad. We can have some breakfast then.’
Gwen smiled before following them back inside. Wandering around the boat in search of coffee, she bought a magazine in the shop and decided she’d come back and find something for Ferdie later. Such a sweet little boy, a credit to Justine. Gwen sighed. She was a lovely young woman and from the way Charlie was around her she guessed that he thought the same too.
She spent the next few hours reading her magazine, looking out of the window at the endless waves and making small talk with various people who, from time to time, sat down opposite her. Before lunch, she ventured into the gift shop and found a boxed toy tractor and trailer for Ferdie. From the cafe, she bought a salad and cheese baguette and a bottle of water and ate her lunch out on deck, waiting for the first glimpse of the French coast bathed in sunlight in the distance.
* * *
Gwen knew something had happened the moment she walked through from passport control into the arrivals hall and saw Pixie standing there waiting for her. It took all the willpower she possessed not to start asking questions straight away. She simply returned Pixie’s greeting hug and kiss and didn’t argue when Pixie insisted on taking her case. Pixie would tell her everything once they were in the car on their way home. Gwen just prayed that whatever had happened to cause her daughter to look so tired and tense hadn’t been any sort of life-or-death emergency.
They were in the stream of traffic leaving the ferry-port before Pixie spoke.
‘Mum, I’m sorry, I should have asked – your hospital appointment? It went all right?’
‘Consultant said all was fine and he’d see me in a year,’ Gwen said. ‘So, come on, Pixie, put me out of my misery – you don’t look as if you’ve had a wink of sleep since I’ve been away. What’s happened?’
