Ronan looks up at me. ‘Goodness, you’ve only been here for a bit and already you can imagine living here.’
‘Yeah… but, sadly, that’s just in my dreams. My latest contract is what is going to pay the bills for the next year.’ I laugh, gazing down at him from my vantage point three steps higher.
Judging by the heat I can feel slowly rising up into my cheeks, I’m beginning to look a little flushed. ‘And both Elliot and I are well aware that it could take at least six months to complete this project before we see any return. So, we decided to be realistic about it and have more work lined up. If this pays off, then it could change our careers; if it doesn’t, then at least we gave it a go, but we won’t be completely broke.’
‘Oh,’ he replies, sounding just the teensiest bit disappointed as he follows me upstairs. But it’s best to make my position clear.
I dump my bag on the floor and walk over to throw open the windows to let in some air. It’s stuffy as the heat has built up during the day, but a little breeze is enough to bring some instant relief. With the sun sideways on to the building it’s the best of both worlds. Light, bright but not in our eyes.
‘It is a lovely cottage,’ he comments, turning to glance at me. ‘And a pity.’
Pity? That I can’t stay?
I can’t resist gauging his reaction, but when he doesn’t elaborate, I jump straight in to change the subject.
‘I’m curious about George. Tell me more.’ I indicate for Ronan to take a seat.
He flops down on the sofa opposite me, extending his legs to the side of the coffee table and crossing his feet at the ankles. I like the fact that he seems to feel so comfortable here.
‘Oh, where to begin? Well, he’s not an easy guy to talk to at the best of times. He gets a little cranky sometimes and he’s quite opinionated. That’s fine, because he’s seen and done a lot in his time but, being in his seventies, what really rankles with him is the quality of life that was snatched away at the peak of his career.’
‘Car crash, wasn’t it?’
‘Yes. The brakes on a lorry failed and ploughed into several cars. George’s right leg was shattered. They reconstructed it using plates, screws and even a bone graft, using a piece of his rib. At least they saved his leg, but he can’t bend his knee more than an inch or two and he’s had to learn to live with the constant pain.’
‘That’s horrible, Ronan. The poor man.’
‘After months of recovery and rigorous physiotherapy he was able to get around with just the one stick. He received a good payout, but money doesn’t mean a lot when in a split second your whole life is turned upside down. George was a very active man who spent most of his life out in the open. He became reclusive for a while and wouldn’t let any of his colleagues visit him. His version of events is slightly different. Whether the pain, or the drugs he was on at the time, affected his memory, I don’t know, but his story is that people simply forgot about him.’
‘How sad if he believes that and it wasn’t actually the case. So how did you get to meet him? Didn’t this happen quite a long time ago?’
I sprawl out on the sofa opposite Ronan, happy to put up my feet at long last.
‘Nineteen years ago. Most of this I gleaned from my interviews with Maurice Perrin. George was one of the trainees Maurice employed back in the early sixties. He was the person who put me in touch with him in the first place, as he felt George could fill in some of the gaps in my research.’
There’s something in Ronan’s tone that tells me George hasn’t been too forthcoming.
‘George doesn’t like talking?’
‘It’s not that – it’s personal. At first, I think he was grateful for the company and it was clear he enjoyed talking to me about old times. Then, when I told him I was Fabien Arnoult’s grandson, he ordered me out of his house. You see, in all the time they worked together in the same team, they were never the best of friends.
‘It was another eighteen months before we spoke again, very briefly at Maurice’s funeral. I think it began to dawn on George that with every passing year more of the details about life as a gardener in times gone by is lost forever. Like it or not, he had a role in that past and I could write him out of my account, or he could give his version of events and have it on record once and for all.’
‘So, he did start talking to you again, then?’
‘Unfortunately, no. He said he would when he was ready, and I’ve been patiently waiting ever since. But I decided to visit him to ask if he remembered your grandma and he said he’d like to meet you. Thanks to you, it looks like he might be ready to share a little of what he knows.’
Perhaps it’s time to ask the question that’s been floating around in my head since the day I stood at the sink in Ronan’s kitchen; the moment when he admitted that Versailles had been the centre of his grandfather’s world. So important, that his wife was torn away from the network of her large Irish family without him seemingly realising what she was giving up for him.
It reminds me in a way of my grandma. Selfless women without whose support I wonder how well the men would have fared if they hadn’t been in their lives. They gave up so much, but then it was that way for many women of that era.
The way we live our lives now is more conducive to allowing each other the freedom to enjoy both family and career. Or maybe the burden, in some cases, when husbands and wives end up stressed, trying to juggle too many things at the same time in order to achieve their goals. My fear is that something is lost in a world where people are so judgemental of each other.
‘You’re deep in thought.’ Ronan peers across at me.
‘Our grandmothers gave up a lot to support their men, didn’t they?’
‘I guess by today’s standards they did, but life was much simpler then, or maybe the truth is that it was more basic. Less expensive technology and a make-do ethos. Household chores took a lot longer and everything had to be cooked from scratch. Besides, women were traditionally the backbone of family life and if they worked, they often ended up doing jobs simply to bring in some extra money, rather than following a career path. The sixties were an exciting time for young people. Change invariably brings new opportunities and for some a new sense of freedom that was exhilarating and empowering.’
I don’t think I ever looked at it in quite that way, but that was exactly what Grandma Viv was trying to get across to us when we were young.
‘My grandma always said that we should follow our dreams because we wanted to, not because we felt we had to. I never really understood what she meant by that. Maybe she was alluding to her own situation. Yes, she could have had a fulfilling career while raising her family and supporting her husband. But what strain would that have put on everyone and everything? She managed to keep the grand passion alive, fawned over her family and was everyone’s rock, while ensuring nothing held Granddad back. His success was also hers.’
Ronan’s expression is one of acknowledgement of a sacrifice borne out of love and I find that endearing.
‘In those days when a woman with children was interviewed for a job, she would have been asked what childcare arrangements she had in place if they were sick. And no allowance was made to accommodate taking leave, only in the school holidays. It was tough for women with children then. I know, because I saw first-hand what my mother had to endure just to keep her two jobs going. Fortunately, my aunt usually stepped in to look after me, but there were times when she wasn’t available, and my mother had no option but to ring in pretending she was sick. Every time she did that, she risked losing her job if it had been discovered.’