Authors: Fiona McIntosh

The Tailor's Girl (41 page)

‘
Natürlich!
’ he replied in a murmur. Luc kissed the top of his sister’s head. ‘Do you think old Wolf is any less relentless? I suspect
your Miss Bonbon allows her junior students to get away with far more.’

Gitel was giggling. ‘Bourbon,’ she corrected.

He gave her plait a tug and winked.

Gitel’s expression changed. ‘Papa’s not happy. We had to make a mad dash from Paris. He’s barely let us pause to sleep and we weren’t allowed to stay in any hotels. We slept in the car, Luc! Mama is exhausted.’

Luc caught his father’s gaze and immediately saw the tension etched deeply in the set of his mouth, buried beneath a bushy, peppered beard. Jacob Bonet was instructing the housekeeper while amiably continuing a conversation with one of the neighbours. Luc knew him far too well, though, and beneath the jollity he saw the simmering worry in every brisk movement.

A new chill moved through him. Bad news was coming. He could sense it in the air in the same way that he could sense the moment to begin cutting the lavender, whose message also came to him on the wind through its perfume. His beloved saba insisted the lavender spoke to him and him alone. She invested the precious flowers with magical properties, and while her fanciful notions amused Luc, he hadn’t the heart to do anything but agree with her.

He watched her now, hobbling out to help with all the possessions that the family had brought south, from his mother’s favourite chair to boxes of books. Saba was muttering beneath her breath at all the disruption, but he knew she must be secretly thrilled to have everyone home. It had been just the two of them for a couple of years now.

His grandmother’s hands were large for her small, light frame – even tinier now that she was eighty-seven. And those hands had become gnarled and misshapen with arthritis but they were loving, ready to caress her grandson’s cheek or waggle an affectionate but warning finger when he teased her. And despite the pain in her
joints, she still loved to dance. Sometimes Luc would gently scoop her up like a bird and twirl her around their parlour to music; they both knew she loved it.

‘The waltz was the only way a young couple could touch one another, and even through gloves I could feel the heat of your grandfather’s touch,’ she’d tell Luc, with a wicked glimmer in her eye.

Her hair, once black, was now steely silver, always tied back in a tight bun. He couldn’t remember ever seeing her hair down.

He watched the little woman he adored throw her hands apart in silent dismay as Gitel dropped a box.

‘Don’t worry, Saba. It’s only more books!’ Luc came up behind the tiny woman and hugged her. ‘More hungry mouths to cook for,’ he said gently, bending low to kiss. ‘Shall I trap some rabbits?’

She reached up to pat his cheek, her eyes filling with happiness. ‘We have some chickens to pluck. More than enough. But I might want some fresh lavender,’ she whispered and he grinned back. He loved it when Saba flavoured her dishes with his lavender.

‘You’ll have it,’ he promised and planted another kiss on the top of her head.

His elder sisters gave him tight, meaningful hugs. He was shocked at how thin they felt through their summery frocks, and it hurt to watch his mother begin to weep when she saw him. She was all but disappearing – so shrunken and frail.

‘My boy, my boy,’ she said, as if in lament.

It was all terribly grim for a reunion. ‘Why are you crying?’ He smiled at his mother. ‘We’re all safe and together.’

She waved a hand as if too overcome to speak.

‘Go inside, my love,’ Jacob said in that tender voice he reserved for his wife. ‘We can manage this. Girls, help your mother inside. I need to speak with your brother.’

‘Let me —’ Luc began, but his father stilled him with a hand on his arm.

‘Come. Walk with me.’ Luc had never heard his normally jovial father as solemn.

‘Where are you going?’ Sarah complained softly. ‘We’ve only just arrived.’

Luc smiled at his eldest sister, trying his best to ignore the way her shoulders seemed to curve inwards, adding to her hollow look. ‘I’ll be back in a heartbeat,’ Luc whispered to her. ‘I want to know everything about Paris.’

‘Be careful what you wish for,’ Sarah warned, and the sorrow in her tone pinched Luc’s heart.

MICHAEL JOSEPH

Published by the Penguin Group

Penguin Group (Australia)

707 Collins Street, Melbourne, Victoria 3008, Australia

(a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty Ltd)

Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA

Penguin Group (Canada)

90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Canada ON M4P 2Y3

(a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)

Penguin Books Ltd

80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL England

Penguin Ireland

25 St Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland

(a division of Penguin Books Ltd)

Penguin Books India Pvt Ltd

11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi – 110 017, India

Penguin Group (NZ)

67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, Auckland 0632, New Zealand

(a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd)

Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty) Ltd

Rosebank Office Park, Block D, 181 Jan Smuts Avenue, Parktown North, Johannesburg, 2196, South Africa

Penguin (Beijing) Ltd

7F, Tower B, Jiaming Center, 27 East Third Ring Road North, Chaoyang District, Beijing 100020, China

Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

First published by Penguin Group (Australia), 2013

The moral right of the author has been asserted

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

Cover photograph by Richard Jenkins

penguin.com.au

ISBN: 978-0-85797-188-3