The Seafront Tearoom Page 24

  I can’t thank you enough for what you did for us. You have made our lives complete. I know it wasn’t easy for you—but we will always be grateful for the sacrifice you made. I have always dreamed of being a mother . . .

  Charlie read the card to the end. Then she sat back down on Euan’s bed, steadying herself, the card still clutched in her hand and her head spinning.

  48

  Friday, October 31

  Séraphine stepped off the plane and out onto the tarmac at Bordeaux airport. She put on sunglasses to shade her eyes from the bright winter sun. Her parents and the twins were waiting for her at Arrivals holding a sign with her name on it; she smiled when she saw it.

  “Séraphine!” Mathilde called out. She and Benjamin ran up and encircled her waist, nearly knocking her off balance as they did so. She kissed her mother and father hello on the cheeks.

  “We have the car just outside,” Patrick said. “Here, let me get your suitcases.” He took them from her and led the way across the car park.

  Hélène hung back with her daughter and looped her arm through hers.

  “So, your English must be fantastic by now,” she said playfully.

  “I suppose it is better,” Séraphine said.

  “And you taught them how to bake, I hope? You hear such terrible things about English food . . .”

  “I taught them a few things, but I think they taught me more.”

  “Everyone in,” Patrick called out. The twins piled into the car and Séraphine squeezed in with them.

  They drove back toward the village and parked up under the apple tree beside their home. Séraphine got out and inhaled the fresh air and sweet scents of their garden. It was as if time had stood still here. Apart from the seasonal changes to the landscape, as predictable as the sun rising and setting, the house seemed the same as ever. She could almost pretend that nothing had changed within her—but not quite.

  That evening they sat down to a meal of steak and vegetables prepared by Hélène. Séraphine chewed without tasting, too preoccupied to join in with the conversation going on around her. She was desperate to tell her parents what she needed to say, what she’d been building up to saying, but the prospect terrified her. It had to be done, though—she owed it to herself, and she owed it to Carla.

  She took a sip of wine and opened her mouth to speak.

  “I have some news,” she said, readying herself.

  “We have some for you, too,” Patrick told her.

  “You do?” Séraphine said, startled.

  “You first,” Hélène said.

  Séraphine’s courage deserted her. “No—you go ahead.”

  “A few things happened when you were away,” Hélène said. “We didn’t want to worry you but—”

  “What is it?” Séraphine’s heart raced. “Is it to do with the twins?”

  “No, no. It’s not that.”

  “What is it?”

  “It’s your brother.”

  “Guillaume,” she said, her voice coming out in a whisper.

  “Yes. We heard from him a week ago.”

  “How is he? What did he say?”

  “He says he got in trouble,” Hélène said, furrowing her brow, anxious.

  “We don’t care what he did,” Patrick said, taking his wife’s hand. “All we care about is that he’s safe.”

  “He said he wants to change. He didn’t tell us everything . . .” Hélène took a breath. “Only that he wants to come home.”

  49

  Friday, October 31

  Letty put on a light inside the tearoom and unlocked the door to Charlie.

  “Hello,” she said. “What a nice surprise. Come in, it’s freezing out this evening.”

  “Have you got time for a chat?”

  “Of course.”

  Charlie had been waiting anxiously all day to talk to Letty alone. She’d canceled her lunch with Euan, knowing that there was no way she could sit and talk to him as if nothing had changed, when in reality she had found out something that would turn his world upside down.

  Letty’s eyes traveled down to the folder that Charlie was holding.

  “Shall we go up to the flat and talk there?”

  “Yes, sure.”

  Letty switched off the till, then led Charlie through a door at the back of the café to a set of stairs. They walked up them together and entered into a hallway lined with photographs.

  “I’ll put the kettle on. You sit down.”

  Charlie sat down on a maroon-and-gold-patterned armchair and looked around the room while Letty made tea in the kitchen. A fringed standard lamp stood next to the mantelpiece, and on a side table there were more photos—mainly of Euan as a young boy, one or two black-and-white ones of people who Charlie now knew to be Letty’s parents. The lovebirds were up in a cage hanging by the kitchen, chattering to each other.

  The small arched window looked out over the sea, and from the higher vantage point Charlie could see the lighthouse in the distance. As she’d been driving up from London, it hadn’t felt like leaving home—instead, she realized now, it had felt as if she was returning there.

  Letty placed a gold-trimmed tea set on the table. “You’ll have had your fill of tea these past few weeks, I expect. But you see I always have a cup this time in the evening. Once the customers have gone, it’s my turn.” She smiled. Those china-blue eyes, so pale they were almost translucent—and yet, Charlie knew now, they didn’t give a thing away.

  Charlie poured a cup and added milk. She took a moment to think about how to phrase what she’d come to say.

  “I know why you’re here,” Letty told her.

  “You do?”

  “Oh yes. A smart girl like you, I wondered if you’d figure it out. Then when I realized I’d left a few personal things in those folders, I was certain you would.”

  “You’ve kept it a secret all these years,” Charlie said.

  “How could I not?”

  “But all this time, you’ve kept the truth from Kat?”

  “I didn’t have a choice,” Letty said. “Kat had a mother who wanted and loved her more than anything in the world—and I made her a promise before she died, that I would never tell Kat what happened. That once, for a brief, precious time, she was my daughter.”

  “But why—”

  “Why did I give her up? Is that what you’re going to ask?” Letty said.

  Charlie nodded.

  “I gave her to the people I knew could make her happiest, and who I knew she would bring light into the life of, and I’ve never regretted it.”

  “It wasn’t . . . Her dad wasn’t John, was it?”

  “Can you imagine it?” Letty said, pushing away her tea, which was untouched. “How terrible a person I was?”

  Tears came to Letty’s eyes.

  “Euan was young still, and John was traveling with his work all the time.” She brushed the tears from her eyes. “All the other mothers around here seemed to find it easy, but the truth was I found it hard to cope on my own. I was lonely back then.”

  She took a sip of tea, then replaced the cup in its saucer.

  “My parents had recently left the tearoom to us, and I was trying my best to run things here. John loved Euan—of course he did—but he also loved his work. There are no excuses. I hurt John, and I started a lie that has lasted—well, until now.”

  “What happened, with Kat’s dad?”

  “A man came back into my life when John was away on one of his trips—someone I’d loved when I was younger, and I was foolish enough to think still loved me. He offered comfort, I suppose.” She shook her head. “But then John came back, and I found out I was carrying a child. I knew that it wasn’t John’s.

  “Not having the baby wasn’t an option. With Euan I’d seen what an honor it is to bring a child into the wo
rld. I wouldn’t judge anyone else for their choices, but for me . . . I knew I wanted to have her. But I wasn’t prepared to lie to John about it. I told him from the start what had happened.”

  “How did he react?”

  “Life’s a funny thing. He didn’t react the way I’d expected, not at all. He said he wanted to raise the child as his own. He loved me, and he knew he’d let me down by not being there. It was me—I was the one who couldn’t do it. It just didn’t feel right. I knew her life would be a lie. She didn’t deserve that.”

  “So you gave her away.”

  “I knew them well, the Murrays. They were regulars in here, always chatting and friendly. They used to play with Euan while I worked. We became close, and one day Kat’s mother confided in me that they’d been trying for a baby for years, but they hadn’t been able to have one. She was trying to be positive about it, but you could see it was eating her up inside.”

  Charlie tried to imagine what that must be like, longing for a child that you couldn’t have. She felt a deep sympathy for Kat’s mother, a woman she didn’t even know.

  “So I had something she wanted,” Letty continued, “and she had something I did—a relationship that was honest, and uncomplicated. I knew mine and John’s could never be that again. We loved each other so much—I loved the bones of him and, if I’m honest, I still do. But when I went away and had that baby—had Kat—away from prying eyes, and handed her over, I lost a part of me.

  “As much as John tried to forgive me, I’m not sure he ever could, any more than I could forgive myself. Over the years we grew apart, and I threw myself into my work here, trying to forget about it. Kat—such a beautiful little girl she was—she’d come in from time to time, and we formed a friendship, the one we have to this day. Her mother died, but it still wouldn’t have been right for me to step in and tell her the truth, no matter how badly I wanted to. When I handed her over, I did so with the promise to her parents that I wouldn’t ever try to get her back.”

  “And so your ex-husband knows about her?”

  “John? Yes, he always has. He knows her. In many ways it’s a small place, this town.”

  “So he knows her, just like Euan does.” The words came out sounding flat, an accusation. Charlie hadn’t intended it—and yet she didn’t take it back.

  Letty nodded. “Yes, like Euan does.”

  “Didn’t they live nearby?”

  “Yes. I had to tell Euan something, so when he was old enough I explained that I’d had to give a child away. You know Euan, he’s so laid-back he’s set to fall over. He didn’t even flinch—simply gave me a hug and said it must’ve been a difficult decision for me. I love that boy,” she said, wiping away a tear. “But I couldn’t tell him who it was, not when Kat was in the dark herself. It wouldn’t have been fair.”

  “It could have been him who found the card,” Charlie said. “That’s what you were thinking might happen, isn’t it?”

  “Perhaps. But I didn’t plan it.”

  “These things have a way of coming to the surface, don’t they?”

  “You’ll tell her, won’t you?” Letty said, looking concerned.

  “I don’t think it’s my place to. If you want, I’ll do what I can to forget I ever found out.”

  “No,” Letty said, shaking her head. “You came to me today for a reason. This happened for a reason, you walking into my tearoom, just when life had fallen quiet.” She took a deep breath. “It’s time.”

  50

  Saturday, November 1

  “I’m going into the village,” Séraphine said, looking in through the kitchen doorway.

  “We’re baking, look,” said Mathilde excitedly, waving a lump of dough in the air. “Raspberry tarts.”

  “Delicious. Save some for me.”

  “OK, then,” Hélène said. “Enjoy yourself. Could you pick up a bottle of wine for this evening? Anna and Ravi are stopping by.”

  “Sure. It would be nice to see them again. I’ve got some photos to show them. See you later.” She kissed her mum on the cheek.

  “See you,” Benjamin called out. “Get us some sweets.”

  Hélène shook her head and looked back at her eldest daughter. “No more sweets for them.”

  The twins squabbled over the dough and Séraphine took the opportunity to have a quiet word with her mother.

  “Are you OK?” Séraphine whispered.

  “Yes, yes. Nervous. But OK. His bed is all made up. He said he’s getting here at midday tomorrow.”

  “Good. It’ll be all right. Maybe not immediately, but it will be. It’ll just take time.”

  “I know,” she said, biting her lip.

  “And Dad?”

  “He’s gone out for a walk. He said he needed to clear his head.”

  Séraphine squeezed her mother’s hand gently and saw that there were tears in her eyes.

  “I thought he was never coming home. But he is. He’s coming back to us.”

  Séraphine picked up her bike and cycled into the village. She passed the fields and vineyards, the thin wheels of her bike occasionally bumping along on the rougher bits of road. She cycled into the town square.

  A whistle made her turn. There, by the bakery door, was Carla—in jeans and a white T-shirt, her long brown hair held back by the sunglasses perched on her head. “Hey, stranger,” she called out.

  Séraphine set down her bike and went to hug Carla. They held each other closely and Séraphine whispered into her ear, “I’ve missed you so much.”

  “You only want me for my brioche!” Carla said. “Come and sit down.”

  They sat at the outside table, and Carla took the freshly baked cakes out of a brown paper bag, and asked her friend in the bakery to bring out two Oranginas.

  “You look different,” Carla said, considering Séraphine. “Your hair’s longer, and . . . I don’t know, I can’t put my finger on it. It’s something more than that.”

  “I feel different,” Séraphine said. “It changed me, going away. It changed the way I think.”

  Carla raised an eyebrow, wary.

  “In a good way,” Séraphine said, smiling and reassuring her with a touch of her hand. “When I left here I was so scared. Scared of being myself, scared of my feelings making my decisions for me—being out of control. But being away from here, away from you, brought home to me just how much I care about you. And it taught me that there are so many ways to live, so many ways to create a family where people love one another. I don’t have to fit in some tiny box anymore.”

  Carla smiled. “I’m glad. It hurt a lot at first, your leaving. I knew that part of you wanted to escape—and that that meant being apart from me. You seemed so determined to deny what you were feeling that I thought you might just succeed. But once I’d decided to wait for you—first to change your mind, and then to come home—I realized it wasn’t difficult at all, it was easy. There was nothing else I wanted to do other than be here for you when you finally came home.”

  “And here you are.” Séraphine smiled. “Thank you.” She squeezed Carla’s hand.

  “There was something sweet in it, toward the end, the waiting. Hearing from you and receiving these lovely little gifts. It made me crave you, like when a good cake is baking in the oven and all you have is the scent of it.”

  Séraphine laughed. “Well, now you have the whole cake.”

  They looked at each other for a moment, a deep sense of intimacy between them, a secret that still wasn’t ready to be shared.

  “So what have I missed here in the village?” Séraphine said lightly.

  “Oh, an awful lot,” Carla replied, with a mischievous smile. “You know how quickly life moves around here. I mean, you have Madame Augustin—she has finished knitting that new hat for her grandson and it suits him perfectly. Jeanne, the librarian, was seen kissing that younger man who live
s by the bridge . . . Oh, and little Samuel has got a new puppy. A brown one. I think that covers it.”

  Séraphine laughed. “I knew I could trust you to keep me informed.”

  “But most importantly, I hear your family have had some good news.”

  “The grapevine got there before me?” Séraphine said.

  “Yes, I’m afraid so.”

  “Guillaume’s coming home tomorrow. I still can’t quite believe it.”

  “Your parents must be happy.”

  “They are. Anxious, but happy. It feels as if a weight has been lifted.”

  “You can start to talk again, build bridges.”

  “Exactly.” Séraphine stared down at her brioche, unable to meet Carla’s gaze. “You know, with all this going on, I haven’t said anything—about us.”

  “I thought as much.” Carla took a sip from her bottle of Orangina.

  “It didn’t seem right, telling them then.”

  “Don’t worry, I understand. They have enough to think about right now. They need to focus on Guillaume coming home. And that really is good news.”

  “It’s going to be a long journey, but he has started. He’s taken the first steps.”

  Carla looked at Séraphine, her gaze steady, then spoke. “And so have you.”

  51

  Saturday, November 1

  “Dad, would you be able to look after Leo for an hour or two?”

  “Sure, love. You going out?”

  “Yes, just down to the tearoom. I had a call from Letty. She wants to talk to me about something.”

  “Of course, you go. Enjoy yourself. I’ll get Leo bathed and put to bed.”

  Leo pushed his trains around the track on the living room floor, lost in his own world.

  Kat kissed her son on the head. “Thank you, Dad. It’s great to have you back.”

  “It’s good to be back.”

  “The traveling’s out of your system?”