Page 38 of Secrets Beneath a Riviera Sky
Agnes looked closely at the file for the first time. ‘Denice Bernard? My sister, Denice? She’d left home before I met him. How could Oscar even know my sister?’ Agnes looked at him uncertainly.
Theo gave a quick shrug. ‘I don’t know. Maybe the notaires put them in touch. Or perhaps she came home for a visit and your parents introduced them without telling you?’
Agnes shook her head. ‘I wouldn’t know. I never heard from my parents again after I left here with Francine. Oscar rang and told me first about Maman dying, and then Papa two years later. On both occasions he said as he was still my legal husband, he’d take charge and deal with everything. If there was anything due to me he’d make sure I got it. I must admit I didn’t really welcome his involvement. I wanted to contact the notaire myself. I certainly didn’t inherit anything from either of them.’
‘Agnes, you need to think about this carefully. Did you have any correspondence sent to you from notaires about your parents when they died? About your inheritance?’
‘No. I told you, Oscar insisted on handling everything for me, so all the paperwork must have gone to him. Even if there wasn’t much actual money after Papa died the house would have been sold. I figured they’d found a way of cutting me out of the will after all when I didn’t receive anything.’
Theo took a deep breath. ‘You know French law doesn’t work like that. It was impossible for them to cut you out and they didn’t. But Oscar did.’
‘What?’
‘You and Denice each inherited fifty thousand euros when the house was sold after your papa died.’ Theo took a deep breath. ‘Oscar kept all of your share.’ Theo looked at her. ‘I’m so sorry.’
Agnes looked at him, stunned. ‘But how could he do that? Surely Monsieur Caumont knew about me. And wouldn’t there have been papers to sign?’
‘He used a different notaire, not Monsieur Caumont. Someone from Marseille. As for papers to be signed, he forged your signature whenever he had to. He would have also lied about where you were. I’m guessing too, that’s why he refused to divorce you when you mentioned a no-fault divorce a few years ago.’
Theo rifled through some of the papers. ‘There’s also a letter here from Denice who was living in Paris at the time your papa died, asking about you and where exactly you were. For some reason Oscar kept a carbon copy of the letter from him to Denice explaining why it was impossible for her to come and see you but he’d continue to pass on any messages that she’d like to give him.’ He held up a piece of flimsy A4 paper. ‘It’s a bit smudged after all these years but it’s still readable. You apparently were ill and not well enough to receive visitors.’
‘Oscar certainly didn’t pass on any of her messages to me. I’ve never heard a word from Denice since the day she left home.’
Agnes looked at him as she fought back tears. ‘I would have loved to have had my sister back in my life years ago. I missed her more than my parents if I’m truthful.’
‘I know,’ Theo said sadly. ‘I think tomorrow we have to show these papers to the notaire. Sadly, I suspect there is nothing he can do at this late stage, especially as Oscar is dead.’
Agnes looked at the file on the table. ‘Oscar was such a devious man. I’ve always hated him and I didn’t think it was possible to hate him any more than I have done for years now that he is dead, but keeping my sister away from me.’ She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. ‘I am so, so, glad he is dead and can’t hurt me any more.’
‘I did find something in the file that I think you’ll like,’ Theo said.
Agnes opened her eyes and looked at him.
‘Denice’s address and telephone number.’
‘Really? Her address in Paris?’
‘She lives in Juan-les-Pins now.’
‘Denice is back living down here? I always believed she’d stay in Paris. There’s a phone number as well? Will you ring her? Take me to see her?’
‘Oui, there is a phone number. Andbien sûrwe will go together.’
‘Would you ring her soon and ask if you can go and see her? Perhaps after the notaire’s visit tomorrow. Make some excuse or other but don’t tell her about me. I want it to be a surprise,’ Agnes said.
‘I’ll phone her in the morning,’ Theo said. ‘Before we go to the notaire.’
‘I’m so excited. Shall we keep this news to ourselves until I’ve met up with her again?’ Agnes said. ‘I hope she will be as pleased as I am to be in touch again. Growing up we were so close. I was devastated when she left. I can’t believe over half a century after she left my sister is living back down on the Riviera and I’m going to see her again.’
Later that evening in her bedroom getting ready for bed, Agnes’s thoughts kept returning to Denice. She remembered Denice being the best big sister ever. Always protective of her and great fun. The two of them had shared a bedroom and as Agnes grew up and became a teenager, Denice, two years older, began to treat her as her best friend and, once she’d sworn her to secrecy, had started to confide her innermost dreams to her.
Agnes had always known how much she longed to be an actress, maybe even go to Hollywood and star in films. Denice loved the film festival, hanging around the Palais des Festivals, haunting the coffee shops where the stars went, begging for autographs as they walked along the Croisette. In those long-ago days there had been very little security. Denice claimed to have had a conversation with Kirk Douglas one morning, and on another day had sat next to Brigitte Bardot on the sand.
How she was going to run away one day because their parents wouldn’t let her live the life she wanted to, became her main topic of conversation. Their parents didn’t take her threats seriously though, her mother simply pleading with her to grow up, her father threatening dire consequences. And then one day, Denice simply left. No note, no goodbye to Agnes. Just gone out of their lives.
Agnes had been as shocked as anyone. Denice had always maintained she wasn’t going to tell her the exact date when she planned to leave or where she was going, saying it was better if she didn’t know details – she’d be able to tell the truth then, when asked what she knew. Nothing. ‘You can’t lie to save your life,’ she’d said, smiling at her.
Agnes remembered the horrible days and weeks immediately after Denice had left. Her mother was distraught, her father angry. One particular memory stood out. Denice had left some of her clothes and Agnes had daringly tried on a mini dress. Shorter than Denice by a couple of inches, the dress had covered her knees rather than barely covering her thighs like it had on her sister. But it fitted her body and she felt good in it. All was well until her father saw her wearing it and yelled at her to take it off instantly. She was not to wear anything of Denice’s ever again. And to make sure, her father instructed her mother to throw away everything Denice had left behind. Agnes managed to secrete away a navy silk scarf with scarlet Eiffel Tower motifs over it and wore it when her father was absent.
