Page 49 of A French Adventure
They both turned in surprise to find a tall man, with piercing blue eyes and sun-bleached grey hair, regarding them with a smile. The thought ‘now he’s a real silver fox’ was the first thing that went through Vivienne’s mind before she collected herself.
‘We’re looking for a man called Pascal Rocher. Are you a relative?’ When he nodded, Vivienne asked, ‘Could you tell me where we can find him? I’d like to talk to him.’
‘I’m Gilles Rocher and Pascal is my father,’ Gilles said. ‘And you’ll find him indoors in the family house he was born and raised in and where he has lived the majority of his life.’
Vivienne registered Pascal had a son as well as a daughter. She had siblings about her own age then.
‘Would it be possible for us to meet him?’ Natalie asked.
‘Of course. Papa likes meeting new people.’ Gilles opened the front door and gestured for them to enter. ‘Papa, you have visitors from England,’ he called out.
The likeness between Gilles and the elderly man who appeared was striking and there was no denying they were father and son. Vivienne felt a shiver of excitement as she saw Pascal Rocher for the first time. Was she finally meeting her birth father?
‘For our English visitors, I will make the tea,’ Gilles said.
‘Bonjour, Monsieur Rocher,’ Vivienne said holding out her hand towards Pascal, which he took and shook. ‘I am Vivienne Wilson.’
‘Bonjour, Madame, it is a pleasure to meet you. And this is?’ He turned, holding out his hand towards Natalie.
‘My daughter Natalie.’
‘Again, it is my pleasure to meet you, Mademoiselle Natalie,’ Pascal said, shaking her hand too.
‘I’m afraid neither of us speak very much French,’ Vivienne said apologetically.
‘SpeakAnglaise. I will understand. A long time ago, I live in England for a short time. Please come into the salon and sit down. Gilles will bring the tea. You are on holiday in Puget?’
‘Thank you,’ Vivienne said as she and Natalie sat on the settee. ‘We’re staying in Antibes. I left my card at theMairiehere several weeks ago and I was hoping you’d ring me. Did the receptionist not pass on my message about Deidre’s daughter when you returned from holiday?’
‘She did. The name Deidre meant nothing to me, so I decided there was no point in contacting you. I owe you an apology for that, but it didn’t seem important to me at the time.’
‘I see.’ Vivienne took a deep breath. ‘It’s just that I believe you may have known my mother a long time ago,’ she said, looking him straight in the eye, and leaving an unspoken and unacknowledged suggestion hanging in the air.
‘And why do you believe that?’ Pascal asked quietly.
‘I found your name, address and a photograph with my birth certificate when I was clearing out my mother’s house after she died. Your name and address is actually on a sealed envelope.’
‘I do not understand. You did not know your mother had these things?’
‘Not until after she died. They’d been hidden away in a drawer forever. She was my adoptive mother, not my birth mother. It was my birth mother who was called Deidre.’
Pascal looked at her and shook his head. ‘I am sorry, but I have to tell you again, I never know an English woman with that name.’
‘Are you sure? I mean, I realise it’s a long time ago. Could you have forgotten her name?’
‘My memory is still good, and I am a Frenchman,’ Pascal gave her a smile. ‘I haven’t known so many English women to forget one. I am sorry.’
Vivienne sighed. No relatives after all. ‘I had hoped the name would lead me to learn about my birth father, but it seems I’ve been heading down the wrong road. Thank you for your time.’ And she and Natalie stood up to leave at the same moment as Gilles appeared with tea for them all.
‘Please stay and have tea with us,’ Gilles said. ‘Sweeten the disappointment of not having the result you would like. I make the canelés today. We share with you.’
‘Mum has bought me some of the special tins for me to make them. She bought them in the shop here with your name on,’ Natalie said. ‘I’m looking forward to making them when I get home. Are you a chef?’ she asked.
Gilles shook his head. ‘Non. I like cooking. You do too, I think?’
‘I am a trained chef, but I specialise in cakes and desserts. These are good,’ she added after taking a bite of the small fluted pastries with their soft centres and caramelised sides. ‘I hope the ones I make turn out as well.’
Pascal looked at Vivienne. ‘You have the envelope and the photograph with you?’
