‘I don’t know what I’m more excited about – meeting George, or the thought of seeing the little place where my grandma stayed, today,’ I remark, as I stare out of the car window.
We pass large swathes of daffodils and tulips, and already there’s a tiny hint of green on the skeletal trees as the buds begin to swell. Everything is beginning to come alive and it really helps to lift my spirits.
Ronan kindly offered to drive today, and he even waited around patiently while I took the call from Elliot. It means we’re running late, so we’re heading straight to George’s first.
‘Is it very far?’ I ask, as we head out of the city.
‘Not really. About half an hour’s drive. He had a second-floor apartment a walking distance away from the palace, but bought a single-storey cottage in Buc, a commune in the Département de l’Yveline, after his accident.
‘You might have read about the Aqueduc de Buc? The huge structure was built to supply water, drained from the ponds of Saclay, to the fountains and basins at Versailles. It’s disused now, of course.
‘Originally, the gardens and park around Versailles were almost twice as big as they are today. The grounds extended this far out, which is incredible to believe, isn’t it? George has family close by and there’s a stream that runs along the bottom of his garden. He enjoys a little fishing to while away the time.’
‘You seem to know quite a bit about him, considering he’s not that chatty,’ I reflect.
‘He was well respected in his time at Versailles. I learnt a lot about him from other people while doing my research. It was clear that he didn’t suffer fools gladly. But he was passionate about his work. George isn’t afraid to voice his opinions, even when it goes against the flow, and people remember that. Unfortunately, there were some pretty heated arguments over the years, and he doesn’t forgive easily. A few of them seemed to have been with my grandfather, hence his caution around me now.’
‘Do I have to be careful what I say?’ Now I’m beginning to wonder what sort of reception I’m going to get.
‘The fact he’s allowing us to visit him is a real surprise. For me that’s great, I will be honest, as I’d virtually given up on him. But his interest shows he might be coming round. Slowly. Maybe this is step one towards accepting that you can’t change what happened in the past. All I want is to get the facts straight for the record. So, let’s see what happens.’
I’m happy that Ronan is pleased about this visit. If it helps him to begin building bridges with George again, then that’s a real bonus. It gives me a warm feeling hearing the positivity in his voice and knowing that I’m instrumental in that.
As the scenery whizzes past the window and with the air con blasting out, it’s a wonderful relief from the afternoon sun filtering in through the windows. Eventually we turn off the main road and, after a mile or so, Ronan indicates before turning into a concrete area in front of double gates.
‘I usually park around the corner, but George gave instructions to pull onto the drive, so you’re an honoured guest. Talk of the devil.’ As we get out of the car the front door opens wide.
The house stands alone on a larger than average sized plot. Bounded either side by tall hedges that have been immaculately trimmed, the garden to the front is a delight. Wonderful little pathways meander between waist-high, raised flower beds brimming with spring colour. There’s no gravel here, but solid concrete paths to give a firm footing.
Ronan strides forward and I trail a pace or two behind him, unable to stop myself from gazing admiringly at the beautiful displays.
‘I might not be able to get up the ladder to trim the hedges,’ George’s voice booms out, ‘but there’s nothing stopping me putting on a good show. When the bulbs start dying back, I’ll be busy with the bedding plants.’
‘It’s breathtaking. Hi, George, I’m Alexandra Winters, but everyone calls me Lexie.’
I hold out my hand and take a giant step forward as he slows, leaning heavily on his stick.
‘Pleased to meet you, Lexie.’
‘This is quite something,’ I add, gazing around and smiling, noticing too that he has totally ignored Ronan.
‘Well, there’s little else for me to do and it keeps me going. I won’t last long once I get to the stage where I can’t come out and potter. But I figure I have a few years left in me yet. Come and have a look at the gardens round the back.’
He turns and I fall in behind him, looking over my shoulder briefly to glance at Ronan. He gives me a thumbs up. I can’t help but notice that still George hasn’t really acknowledged him, at all.
‘I pay someone to keep the grass and the hedges in order, but the planters allow me to keep my hand in,’ George continues, sounding really rather friendly.
It’s a very formal layout and I instantly think of the grounds in front of the Orangery. Albeit, this mirrors it in a more simplistic way.
Running down the centre of the garden is a wide, gently sloping path. On the left-hand side a long row of large metal planters stand, rather proudly, each one housing a specimen shrub. All are beautifully clipped, although not in the more formal topiary shapes, but the natural shape dictated by the plant itself.
To the right-hand side the smooth, slightly downhill sloping lawn is weed-free. But one long line of fruit trees mirrors the planters on the opposite side of the garden. The hedging bordering the property continues on down to the bottom, affording a lot of protection to George’s display of miniature trees. Stopping for a moment, I can hear the sounds of the water, loud enough to know it’s not merely a small, meandering stream.
‘Oh, my. I keep thinking about the Orangery. This is truly delightful, and the sound of flowing water is a perfect backdrop,’ I remark, taking in the wonderful ambience.
George looks pleased. ‘It’s all about scale and symmetry. And simplicity. Some of the most restful areas of the gardens at Versailles are those where the hornbeam hedging encloses a quiet area. A simple stone bench, some flowing water and the sound of birdsong is all anyone requires to switch off from their troubles. Or sit and plot the downfall of a courtier.’
Gazing up at him, I’m amused by his comment. He begins to laugh.
‘It’s funny you should say that, George. Whenever I get to wander around the garden between takes, I’m always drawn to those hidden areas. Discovering something new every time is such a delight. It’s so easy to sit for a while and imagine the trysts and plotting.’
He raises an eyebrow, his eyes narrowing as he stares at me intently.
‘A kindred soul. Have you toured the palace yet?’
I shake my head, sadly. ‘I’m hoping to, very soon. The preparation has been time-consuming and my partner, Elliot, has had to fly back to the UK on a family emergency. Ronan has very kindly stepped in for him and I’m so very grateful as this project means a lot to me.’
Hearing his name uttered, Ronan draws closer. I realise he was giving us a little space, but if there’s a bridge to be mended here, then Ronan deserves a little help.
George glances at Ronan and finally gives a little nod of acknowledgement.
‘Let’s head down to the water. My housekeeper will bring us some tea, shortly. Did you two know each other before this visit?’ All of a sudden, his tone isn’t quite as friendly as it has been so far and I’m a little taken aback by his question.