Authors: Karen Aldous
Lizzie was confused. Jack saying it would be cool? Cal hadn’t mentioned any of this. Of course she could try and help but would have to run it by Angus. And then, it would be difficult with patient confidentiality.
‘I’ll certainly discuss it with Angus. I’m sure he’d be delighted to share what knowledge he can.’
‘Thanks, Lizzie. Thanks, Gran.’
‘It takes a lot of studying and a lot of money to become a plastic surgeon,’ Lizzie pointed out, knowing precisely the years and funding Sophie had endured. ‘Although as a student, at least you can observe the process.’
‘Awesome.’
‘Yes, it would take some years of study. That’s why it is important to feel it’s right for you.’ Rose pointed a finger at Jack before teasing her grandson further. ‘So tell me, as an architect, Jack, what vision would you have had for this house?’
Casting her eyes over at Cal, Lizzie wondered where this would lead and whether Cal and his mother had been concocting something. Unable to read Cal’s eyes behind his sunglasses, she gazed at Jack. He took some time before answering.
‘OK,’ Rose started. ‘Your dad has asked you here. He is your client. What would you recommend? Would you urge him to pull it down and start again or, being a centuries-old building with lots of original features, would you tell him to sympathetically restore it?’
Jack perused the question as though it was some sort of trick. ‘I think restore it.’
Rose persisted. ‘If your dad said to you right now, help me redesign it. What would you suggest?’
‘Yes, I’d say yes.’
‘No, OK. So, tomorrow, if you got the choice either to come here with a sketch pad and do some drawings to redesign this house, or, go along with Angus and watch how he applies his skills and help him redesign some woman’s face or whatever it is they call it, what choice would you make?’
Twisting his lips, Jack peered over to his father. ‘If I’m honest, I’d rather go watch Angus. Sorry, Dad. I would help you but…’
‘Look at me,’ Rose demanded. ‘Jack. Don’t apologise. You gave the right answer. It’s what your heart is telling you. If cosmetic surgery excites you, you are halfway there. Now all you have to do is to pass exams and gather the skills and knowledge to do it.’
‘It does excite me, you’re right.’
Rose squeezed Lizzie’s arm. ‘You are a lucky young man. If you have discovered what you want at your age and have professionals here to guide you, then you must pursue it.’
‘What, you mean stay here, Gran?’
‘Your mother has definitely beaten the egg well into her ingredients. And, you have to hand it to her, she got the rise in her cake.’
‘Yes, I didn’t realise what a schemer she was,’ Cal grinned. ‘I still have my reservations.’
‘Well, you won’t, or she won’t convince him immediately but she has certainly lined the cake tin pretty nicely,’ Lizzie said observing Jack and his gran enter the small stone structure. Jack had a strong bond with Rose considering the miles they lived apart. He must love and trust her so much. Maybe her son would have a similar relationship with Jack. They had gelled so well. Although, she was thankful Marie-Clare had taken Thierry to nursery this morning. At least she wasn’t getting panicky and scared out of her wits worrying about him tumbling over that ledge. She returned to the moment as Cal began.
‘It’s not going to help short-term though is it? He’ll still want to study in London. There’ll be too much of a language barrier for him to study in France.’
Lizzie slipped her arm around his, feeling the heat of the spring sunshine on her skin. She peered up to him as he devoured the vista. ‘Unless he takes lessons in the summer. He’s young, bright and already has a good grasp. With an intense course, he’d do really well.’
‘It depends how much he is motivated doesn’t it? In all honesty, I just don’t know where I am with Jack. I didn’t realise parenting could be this difficult. I suppose I imagined parents just told them what was best for them and the child would listen.’
‘To be fair, Cal, you’ve not been allowed to be directly involved. And these are the worst years, I imagine. We’ve all been there, growing into adults with our own take on things. We think we know best but we learn too late. Look at me. Running off to France. How naïve was I?’
‘You’ve done extremely well.’ Cal ran his hand through the back of her hair. ‘But, London, he could end up on the streets with the wrong people, as could you have in France. I just don’t think I could handle him being there without me. And, this is going to sound really selfish, but I really would like him to come here. It’s great having him around. I’m enjoying getting to know him, despite the grief.’
‘I know where you’re coming from. Maybe deep down he wants to be directed. Maybe the idea of London was just an immediate escape. Now he is seriously getting the chance to see what is out there, and the excitement it creates in him, and not to mention the support and guidance he can get from you, he’ll hopefully figure he can take a much better path.’
Lizzie thought herself extremely lucky. She’d had Sophie. How would she have managed without her? How would she manage without Cal now? The thought of Cal moving to London was yet another nightmare.
Rose emerged from the stone structure treading unsteadily over the long grass with an item in her hand closely followed by Jack with a few more. Cal rushed towards her.
‘Mum, please be careful, your ankle has only just recovered from a fall. We don’t want you hurt again.’
‘I’m fine. Have you seen what’s in here?’ Rose asked. ‘Look at this,’ she said, holding up a gilt ornate sewing box. ‘There are clocks, watches, jewellery boxes, cigar cases. A major stash in there. Three large boxes.’
Lizzie thought back to the old teddy Thierry had brought home yesterday. ‘I suspect the old man forgot he’d put them there. They could be precious heirlooms.
Cal stepped forward to his mother’s find. ‘Jack and Thierry mentioned it yesterday but we didn’t look. Yes, they must belong to the old man, Monsieur Giroux? He must have forgotten them.’
‘That’s really beautiful isn’t it?’ Lizzie said inspecting it. ‘Aww, they would probably mean something to his children or grandchildren.’
‘It’s so beautiful,’ agreed Rose. ‘And there’s so much more.’
Jack held out the cigar case and the pocket watch in the other hand, minutely inspecting them. ‘I bet they’re worth some dollars.’
‘I still have his mobile, I’ll give him a call.’ Cal said. ‘Wrap them back up and leave them there for now.’
Lizzie wondered how an earth someone could forget about such a trove of treasure. It was quite sad to learn the sheer amount of antiques which had been left there. The owner must have stored them when he cleared out the house and forgotten all about them. What was strange was, there were no locks on the old stone building. It was nothing more than some little animal or crop shelter. She would have to return the teddy Thierry had taken home too. His family would be missing a small fortune of their inheritance not to mention personal keepsakes such as her great-gran’s locket. Some of those items would certainly mean something to someone.
After being soaked in the splendour of the Provençal landscape and blossoming trees, Lizzie returned to the bustle of the office. Saturdays were their busiest days so it made sense to spend an hour or two with Josephine, going through the schedules and marketing plans after generally seeing all was running smoothly. She picked up her ‘to do’ list, adding ‘talk to Angus about Jack’ before she forgot. Knowing Angus was with a client, she decided to head back home for the weekend and think about some specials for the summer. She did a last minute check on her emails and forums which had now become quite a habit in her search for her great-aunt. Then as she just about to close down her computer, she put the name of J&E Fordlock back into the search engine. Again, Directors of Fordlocks Haberdashery in Hythe came up. She changed the search and added the area. The business wasn’t listed but an E. Fordlock appeared.
‘Whoa,’ she yelled as an address popped up from a site. She quickly noted down the address and rang international directory enquiries.
‘I’m sorry, that name isn’t listed for that address,’ she was told.
Screwing up her face, she asked swiftly, ‘Could you look up the phone number for that address? I know it will be under a different name but…’
The sound of the woman’s chest heaved into Lizzie’s ear.
Bloody cheek, I am paying for it.
‘I’ll take the number and try them. They may have a forwarding number or address. Oh, and could you give me the name, please?’
Just seconds later, she had a telephone number on her pad and a name, Mr D. R. Saltwood. Her hands were shaking. It was a long shot but what if her mother’s aunt was Mrs Saltwood and she was sitting at the other end of the phone? Should she?
Hearing a trampling of footsteps hurtling towards her, she looked up. Angus rushed in from Sophie’s consulting room next door. ‘Are you OK? I heard a scream.’
‘I’m so sorry, yes good, thanks. I just found something. No panic. Just a surprise.’
Angus waved his palm ‘Grand. I thought someone was being chased by a spider.’
She watched as he returned to the door clinging to the frame, the stance silhouetting a fine muscular structure. He was very attractive but also vaguely familiar. She wondered if she’d ever met him before. Maybe there was a subliminal meeting somewhere, a bar, an acquaintance of Anton’s. Ooh the mention of that man’s name made her squirm – even with closure.
‘No, no spiders but thanks for coming to the rescue.’ She would have appreciated being rescued, had there been a spider.
‘Oh, Angus,’ she called after him. ‘Have you got a few minutes?’
‘Yes, just waiting for a bit of pain to subside. The client’s, not mine. What’s up?’
Lizzie almost laughed at his cheekiness. ‘I have a favour to ask again, I’m afraid.’
‘OK, I’m not green-fingered if you want your window-boxes pruned or whatever it is they do with them.’
This time she laughed aloud. ‘No, this is definitely in your realm. Jack, Cal’s son who you met yesterday, I’m afraid you’ve made quite an impression. He would like to explore it further, as a future career. I just wanted to ask if you could give him a bit of guidance and encouragement, you know, show him what you can without breaking our code of ethics and confidentiality, naturally.’
Angus raised his brows and produced his magic smile. ‘Brilliant. He did seem really keen. He was asking a lot of questions, I’m flattered it’s fired him up. Yes, be happy to help. I’ve got plenty of books, sketches, magazines and journals I could show him.’
‘Excellent, though keep to the respectable areas. He’s still only sixteen.’
Angus gave a throaty laugh. ‘Of course. Do you know for how long, times etc?’
‘I’ll speak to him and let you know.’
‘Fine. I’d quite enjoy a bit of male company for a change. Yes. Let me know. I’d better go.’
‘Yes, and thank you again. Have a good weekend,’ she said, grateful he had agreed to help out so willingly.
She swiftly spun her mind back to the telephone number before her. OK. What now? Particles of doubt began showering her. They’d probably moved years ago and the owner is going to think she’s mad. She hadn’t thought this far ahead and she had to prepare herself. So Elsie, this woman, surely wasn’t still alive? The business ceased years ago, unless it was in another name.
Just dial the number and ask.
She stared at the phone as though waiting for instruction. Then her thoughts turned to her mother. How happy would she be to know she had a cousin, and all because she, her daughter, had made a phone call?
‘OK.’ She dialled the number including the international dialling code.
A female voice answered. ‘Hello?’
Immediately, Lizzie’s mouth seized. Oh God, something felt like it was lodged in her throat. Instinctively she wanted to throw the phone back down. She hadn’t thought this through. How was she to ask? The thumping in her chest collided with her breath and nothing would come out. Her head was almost ready to explode.
‘Hello, oh bloody PPI, hello,’ the voice moaned.
‘Hello.’ Lizzie coughed bleating out the sound. ‘I…I’m sorry to trouble you. I’m looking for an Angela Fordlock?’
‘Oh, I thought it was going to be a recording. Hello. Phew, not heard that before, for my mum anyway. What’s this about?’
Lizzie felt her bones reverberate and hesitated, not exactly expecting recognition of this order but more speculating. She drew in a deep breath and tried to calm herself. Why was she so bloody terrified? She was only asking a question for goodness sake. She took a deep breath.
‘Well, it’s rather a long story, and a little awkward. My gran had a sister who was killed during the war. We discovered among some old documents that Mum’s sister Emily had a little girl who we believe was taken from the bombsite to another family. Well-meaning of course,’ Lizzie added. ‘Mum and I are trying to find her. Her name was originally Annie Rolf but a gentleman who lived in Rhonda Grove, a street in Mile End, London, thinks her name was Angela Fordlock. He never forgot the incident you see. He would have been a child then about seven or eight, but he sent me information to say he remembers the Fordlock family finding a little girl. She had two brothers, Johnny and Jimmy.’
‘OK, you can stop there. You definitely have the right Fordlocks. I’m Angela’s daughter by the way. Wow, this is a surprise. Look. Can I have a chat with Mum and call you back? I take it your mum is still alive?’
Lizzie’s heart was racing. ‘Yes, yes, very much so. I haven’t told her I’ve rung or found this number yet, so it is best if you can talk it through with your mother first. I need to make sure we have the right person, but of course it all depends on what your mum has been told.’
‘I’ve heard something about her being found in a pram but to be honest, I always thought my uncles were just teasing. Give me your number and I’ll call you once we’ve had a chat. We’re just off to Canterbury to shop so I won’t go raising her blood pressure now, but I’ll stay and talk to her later. Oh by the way I’m Ophelia, Pheely Saltwood.’