Page 57 of A French Inheritance
‘But if I like the idea and want them to, both she and Yann are happy to man thepépinièreon the days the brocante is open. It’s so close to the artisan units, they can do the two between them.’ Adam paused. ‘I accepted immediately of course. I couldn’t possibly say no, thank you.’
Briony laughed. ‘She’s a force to be reckoned with is my mum.’
‘She’s cleaned thepépinièreout of agapanthus too. Said they needed more attention than they were getting and they were perfect for Owls Nest as well as the brocante’.
‘Agapanthus are one of Mum’s favourite flowers, after roses and daffodils and sunflowers. She can never decide which is her absolute favourite,’ Briony said, laughing.
* * *
When Jeannie learnt that Yann hadn’t been down to the lake for years, she determined he had to see the changes down there. The perfect opportunity arose when he came for supper one evening. Briony and Elliot were sorting out more boxes up at the brocante prior to opening day, before having supper together at Elliot’s.
‘Come on, let’s walk Meg down to the lake before we have a glass of wine with supper,’ Jeannie said. ‘You have to see how Adam has improved the area. So many birds now and the trees have space to breathe and grow. The yellow irises on the edge of the water have been so beautiful this spring.’
Walking along the track with Yann holding her hand and Meg running ahead, Jeannie took deep breaths of the summery evening air that was punctuated with the noise of cicadas. She sent up a silent prayer of thanks to the universe for bringing her back to live in her favourite place in the world and for reuniting her with the love of her life. Reaching the bench by the lake the two of them sat down. Yann caught his breath as he looked around. ‘Adam, he makes an already lovely place into a beautiful paradise.’ The pair of them sat contentedly both deep in their own thoughts for several moments before Yann stood up. ‘I would like to walk the jetty.’ And gently he pulled Jeannie to her feet.
Together they walked along the wooden jetty and stood watching as Meg took the opportunity to jump into the water for a swim. Yann shook his head as he looked out over the lake. ‘Jeromé and me, we spent so manyvacancesdown here as young boys, teenagers, before life took over.’ He sighed. ‘It is a good job we have no knowledge when we are young of what lies before us.’ He turned and took Jeannie in his arms. ‘I cannot deny my life has been good, I adore my daughter Pauline, and Evette and I, we were happy in our own way but my biggest regret has always been you weren’t in my life. But now you are and life has never looked better. I love you, Jeannie Aubert.’
As he bent his head to kiss her, Jeannie whispered, ‘I love you too. Always have. Always will.’
43
The evening before opening day of the brocante, Briony and Jeannie sat out on the terrace together enjoying a glass of rosé. Jeannie was reading a paperback and Briony took the opportunity to start looking through the diary-cum-journal again. The last few weeks had been so busy she hadn’t had a chance to even pick it up. She turned a couple of pages on from the last entry about expecting a baby that she’d read all those weeks ago, hoping to read some happier entries by her great-grandmother Marie-Louise.
But there was no further mention of any mid-twentieth-century celebrities as Briony slowly turned the pages. Lots of the pages were blank until several pages from the end there was an entry:
EM has been in America for weeks now. I miss her and wish I could talk to her, ask her advice. Tell her about the baby. But even when she returns, I know I am unlikely to see her. I have heard all the dark rumours that are circulating about her and her friend Dorothy Fellowes-Gordon since they returned to America. And Albert refuses to let me mention her name in the house. Certain people, both men and women, are like red flags to Albert.
The other thing that provokes Albert to be cruel to me is finding me painting. He dislikes my paintings, which he calls wishy-washy rubbish. I have tried to explain how much I love the Impressionist paintings of Matisse which are really popular at the moment, but he never listens.
Briony turned to the last page. And there it was, the very last entry in the journal that told her why Marie-Louise had stopped painting at such a young age.
EM never spoke a truer word than when she told me how hard it is for a woman to be accepted as other than merely a wife or a mother. I am not brave like she is, I do not have it in me to fight the old-fashioned prejudices of men so publicly. I have decided that I will be content with my life as a mother and hope for better for my child should I give birth to a baby girl, rather than the son Albert wants. I have decided too, that I will stop painting. Not because of the baby, but life is easier when I do not antagonise Albert. I have placed everything from EM and all my paintings into boxes. I shall ask Thomas the cowman to place them in the attic one day when Albert is away at market. I miss painting already.
Briony sighed as she wiped a tear away and placed the diary on the table.
‘Why the tears?’ Jeannie asked quietly, looking up from her paperback.
‘I’ve discovered why Great-granny stopped painting,’ Briony said and carefully pushed the diary across the table towards her mum. ‘Read the last two entries. So sad.’ Briony picked up her wine and sipped it as she watched Jeannie read.
An emotional Jeannie wiped her own tears away as she looked at Briony. ‘It’s beyond sad. We can only be grateful that we live now. A time that is not perfect, but,’ she shrugged, ‘it’s still better than then.’
Briony nodded in agreement. If only she could time-travel back and tell Marie-Louise that she’d discovered her paintings in the attic and loved them so much. Tell her that people in the twenty-first century were going to see and admire the ones she’d framed and hung in the brocante as a permanent exhibition of her work.
* * *
‘It’s a big day tomorrow for Briony,’ Lucy said as she and Adam walked up through the farmyard after their evening dog walk with Django. Stopping in front of the brocante they looked at the bunting, the ‘Briony’s Belle Brocante’ sign and the colourful array of flowers. ‘I do hope it is a success. She’s worked so hard for it to be up and running for the summer.’
‘I’m sure it will be,’ Adam said, glancing at Lucy. ‘It’s lovely to see all three of the artisan units finally occupied.’
Lucy nodded. ‘Having the brocante here will surely bring more people up for the other two businesses and thepépinèreso it’s a win-win all round. We’re invited to a barbeque at Owls Nest tomorrow evening, by the way. Briony wants to say thank you for all the help and to celebrate the opening. I’m sad that Giselle died but so happy that Briony and Jeannie have moved into the cottage,’ Lucy said. ‘Briony and I are starting to become real friends.’
‘Elliot seems happier these days too,’ Adam said with a questioning look. ‘Not that I see much of him now he’s working.’
Lucy smiled. ‘That’s down to Briony, who is also happier than when we first met her.’
‘Come on. Let’s get back to the farm and have a nightcap on the terrace,’ Adam said, ‘and you can tell me more about my brother’s new relationship.’
‘I don’t know anything other than they are both happier than they were – and if I did know more, you know I wouldn’t tell you anyway,’ Lucy said.
