‘No. A contact of Elliot’s provided a list of interpreters and Ronan was one of them.’
Falling in alongside George, we continue walking at his gentle pace. It’s easy to see that his discomfort grows the further he walks, as even with the help of his stick his lopsided gait must really pull on his back. He’s a proud man, that’s obvious, and I try my best not to show the pity I feel for him.
‘Seems we all have a connection to Versailles.’ George turns his head to look directly at me and I can see he’s a little suspicious, which puzzles me.
‘We do. It was a long time ago, though, and there’s no way of knowing whose paths might have crossed at the time. I have a photo of my grandma to show you, actually.’
George indicates for us to take a seat as we draw near to a large circular wooden table looking out over the river. Clumps of tall trees, shimmering in the light breeze, fracture the rays of beautiful spring sunshine, covering the grassy area with glints of flickering light. It’s heavenly. The only sound is the bubbling water as it swooshes by and the birds, noisily foraging in the trees overhead.
‘This is a beautiful spot, George. Gosh, that’s quite a flow, but what a joy hearing the water cascading over the rocks. I see you enjoy a little fishing.’ I nod in the direction of the smart-looking jetty to our right. There’s a reclining chair with a folding canopy over the top, a large plastic box and a rack housing two fishing rods.
‘Yes. There’s plenty of river carp and bream here. Usually the river can be fished all year round, but the winter storms and constant downpours made it flood. It washed away my old jetty but this new one is a sturdier construction and should see me through a few good years.’
Ronan and I take a seat, both making a concerted effort not to watch George as he eases himself into the only chair with a foot rest. It takes him a minute or so to make himself comfortable.
‘Ah, here she is,’ he says, and I turn to see a young woman walking towards us carrying a tray.
Ronan leaps up to go and help her as the tray is rather loaded. They exchange a little light-hearted banter and there’s some laughter. I notice George gives her a beaming smile before she heads back up to the house.
As I pour the tea and pass around the plates, George motions to her retreating back.
‘My wife’s eldest brother’s granddaughter,’ he informs us. ‘I don’t know what I’d do without her. She works a morning shift at the local vet’s and is here every afternoon. Her and her boyfriend are saving up to buy a house.’
Ronan had said George’s wife died years ago and it would be rather sad if he didn’t have anyone close by to help out when needed. I notice Ronan is very quiet and there’s little eye contact between the two men as I pass around a platter of tiny French pastries and cakes.
As soon as our rather subdued little afternoon tea session is finished, I decide to pull out the photograph, sliding it across the table towards George. He picks it up, holding it in his hands for a few moments and stares down at it.
‘Her name was Viv. Vivian Hanley at that time, as she didn’t marry my granddad until after she went home to the UK. As far as I can tell she arrived at Versailles in the May, or possibly the June, of 1961. She was married in August 1962, shortly after her return.’
He continues to stare down at the photograph in silence.
‘It was linked to her coursework at a horticultural college in the UK. I think maybe to do with a study of the trees here? I’m afraid I don’t really know any more than that. Do you… do you recognise her at all?’
George slides the photo back across the table.
‘Sorry, I don’t recall having met her. It was a long time ago and my memory isn’t what it was, I’m afraid.’
He’s emphatic and tight-lipped now, but I don’t believe him. I glance briefly at Ronan, who is trying to observe subtly in order not to deter George, I suspect. But now George, too, is looking directly at Ronan and this is all beginning to feel very uncomfortable indeed.
‘Oh. That’s a real pity. I would dearly love to know a little more about her time here and the people she worked alongside.’
I pause and George says nothing. It’s as if he’s switched off and we are no longer here.
‘Well, thank you for inviting me here, George, and thanks to Ronan for introducing us. I know this period in my grandma’s life meant a lot to her and, while she did keep some notebooks, I’ve only recently begun the task of going through them. It seems a shame that this period of her life should be lost to my family. It was quite a thing to do to uproot herself for a whole year, as family was everything to her. She gave up her career shortly after she married and that must have been a tough choice to make, but her husband and her daughter always came first.’
George’s face gives nothing away, but I can see by his eyes that he’s growing agitated. I can feel Ronan looking at me and he furrows his brow, indicating we’ve overstayed our welcome. And he’s right: George is communicating that loud and clear without needing to put it into words. He’s grown aloof and distinctly chilly towards us.
Ronan and I stand, and I walk around the table to offer George my hand.
‘Please, don’t get up, we can see ourselves out. But I must thank you for the most delightful afternoon tea in such a beautiful setting, George. I feel privileged to have been able to experience it.’
He reaches out to shake my hand and I edge forward to save him overstretching. Rather unexpectedly, he places his other hand over the top of mine. Holding it for a few, lingering moments he adds, ‘The pleasure was all mine, Lexie.’
A lump rises in my throat as we walk back to Ronan’s car. I hadn’t realised how much I was hoping that George would look up and say he’d crossed paths with my grandma, even briefly. To speak to someone who knew her while she was here would have meant so much to me. He obviously isn’t easy around Ronan, I already knew that, but I honestly don’t think he was telling the truth. But why would he lie about it?
13
One Step Forward, Two Steps Back
We are both feeling so dispirited on the return trip that I ask Ronan to drop me off at home and suggest that maybe we could check out the address where Grandma stayed another time. He does look a tad disappointed and I wonder if he’d hoped we would do some more research this evening.
‘Do you want me to pop inside and fetch the notebook you’re working on? I need to crash and get an early night, but I don’t want to stop you if you wanted to plough on.’
Ronan gives me an understanding look and nods his head enthusiastically. ‘That would be great, if you don’t mind. I promise to take great care of it.’
‘I trust you.’ I laugh, slipping out of the seat and slamming the door behind me.
When I return, he’s managed to slip into a parking bay, but he says he has to head straight off as he has work planned for the remainder of the weekend. A quiet Sunday will allow me to clean the cottage, do the laundry and do some prep for next week; but I am a little disappointed.
‘Well, see you on Monday, then.’
‘Yep. Bright and early. Let’s get another interview in the can. Give Elliot my best when you talk to him next and text me if there’s any good news.’