The Traveller's Daughter Page 22

  Kitty smiled it had been too hard to try and get it through to the George look-a-like whose English was worse than her French what it was she had actually ordered. She had filled up on the bread accompaniment provided in a basket instead. She was a very hypocritical meat eater she’d had to concede to Damien when she refused point blank to try the chicken livers. “But you eat pate?” He’d said.

  “That’s different.” She had muttered breaking off another piece of baguette.

  They’d had some good times together she thought, recalling too how after dinner they had meandered down the banks of the Seine eventually winding up alongside the Eiffel Tower. The sight of the famous monument illuminated at night had taken her breath away. She had felt so happy and contented as they had stood beneath it wrapped in each other’s arms kissing. It was Paris, and that’s what you should do when you were in the most romantic city in the world.

  They’d had a fight on the way back to the hotel, it was over something so trivial that she couldn’t even remember what it had been about now. She did remember that it had been her that had backed down in the end. It always was. She blinked that memory away realising that Damien was talking.

  “Are you not hungry?”

  Kitty stabbed the penne and a mushroom. “I should be. I have hardly eaten all day, and that is not like me at all.” She popped it in her mouth, it was delicious she thought, but her usually voracious appetite was letting her down tonight.

  “You have had a big day.”

  At last he was bringing the conversation around to where she wanted it. “Yes it’s certainly been that alright.”

  “It’s some story you’ve just told me. Who would have guessed? I mean Rosa always seemed quite refined to me, a little eccentric but she was a clever woman no doubt about that.”

  “I know, I have thought of so many different scenarios as to where she came from over the years. It never crossed my mind that she might have once been part of the Irish Traveller community. I think I am still in a little bit of shock to be honest, trying to equate the Rosa in the journal and in Midsummer Lovers with the Rosa that was my mum.”

  “They were two different people Kitty that’s the thing. Your mother decided she wanted to move on with her life and move forward, and that is what she did. So I don’t see how it changes anything for you because she is still the same person you knew, and you are still the same girl you were before you came here and read that journal. Whoever your mother was before she had you is irrelevant to your childhood. She chose to disassociate herself from her family, and the way I see it you are not one of them.”

  Kitty detected disdain in his voice and looked at him in surprise. “What do you mean I am not one of them? I feel like what Mum told me explained so much about this inability of mine to commit to something and settle down. This need of mine to keep moving, and I often talked to you about those funny little feelings I would get from time to time.”

  Damien paused, his fork was midway to his mouth with the new potato hanging onto the prongs momentarily forgotten. “Oh, Kitty that’s absolute rubbish, and you know it. You were settled in Manchester with me, but I screwed it up it's nothing to do with you having Traveller blood in you. You’ve been a lost soul because of what I did, I mean waiting tables and working on a market stall come on.” He made an inverted commas sign with his finger. “As for those feelings of yours well we all get those from time to time. I always know when it’s my bloody mother on the phone. There’s something in the way it rings that tells me she’s calling to check that I’m eating properly, and have enough clean shirts for work. You have been looking for answers to questions that were never there.”

  Kitty put her fork down feeling her blood beginning to pass a slow simmer as it began to bubble. “I beg your pardon? I make an honest living out of waitressing, and my market stall is very popular thank you very much. I never realised what a snob you are until now.”

  Damien opened his mouth, but she held her hand up. “No let me speak. I am half Traveller, half tinker a flipping gypsy! And I fully intend to find my family and learn more about them.”

  “I’m not a snob Kitty; it’s just that you can do so much better than what you have been doing drifting along down in London. All this talk about opening your café, you don’t know the first thing about running a business. I am worried about you because you have the chance to do something positive for your future with the money you have just come into from Rosa’s house sale. I also think if you go careening off to Ireland to meet these people you might be sorely disappointed. I don’t want you to get hurt or fleeced for that matter.

  “Pity you didn’t think about me getting hurt when you started up with the Bitch then isn’t it.”

  He looked chastened, and Kitty regretted her words, and the way the conversation had deteriorated so rapidly. The woman was history, and sitting here tonight she had slowly come to realise that she and Damien were history too.

  “Look I’m sorry Damien but I can’t go back.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean what we did the other night it was a mistake. I was feeling fragile, and well we shouldn’t have done it.”

  His hand snaked across the table to rest on hers. “It wasn’t a mistake Kitty! It was right because we fit together, cheating on you, now that was the mistake.”

  “No! I mean yes it was, but I’ve realised that it would always be there between us, what happened,” she shrugged. “I am not a big enough person to move forward. I’m sorry, but I’m not and well the thing is if I am honest I don’t want to either. I’m just not the same girl I was when we were together anymore, and it’s time I started to look forward and not go backwards.” Damien’s hand still rested on hers, but he refused to meet her gaze seemingly fascinated with the contents of his wine glass. “I’m sorry you had to come all this way just to hear me say this, but it’s the way it is. I don’t want to try again.”

  “But what about us? What we had between us. I wanted to marry you one day.” Damien said finally looking up, his voice to her horror choking.

  “Oh, Damien there is no us, there hasn’t been since the day I left. You will find the right girl for you, but I’m sorry she isn’t me.” Kitty pulled her hand out from under his and got up from the table she slung her bag over her shoulder. “I’m sorry.” She reiterated before turning and walking away as fast as her feet would carry her before her resolved weakened.

  ***

  She felt lighter Kitty realised, and not just because she’d had hardly any dinner. The weight of indecision had lifted from her shoulders. She truly could move on now with no if’s or but’s lurking in the background. The cherub’s urn was still trickling water into the pond at its feet, and she reached down to stroke the stone wall before she turned into the silent street and began the climb toward the house. It struck her then that she had no key to get in if everybody had decided to get an early night. It must be after ten she thought, as nearing it she saw to her relief that the lights were on in the front room. Good, she had no wish to encounter Simone rudely awakened from a deep sleep. Nor Christian in his pyjamas because she had a sneaking suspicion they’d be red silk, and that she did not need to see!

  Stepping up to the front door she tapped on it lightly, and didn’t have to wait long until it opened. Jonny stood there illuminated by the hallway light; he was still dressed in the same clothes he’d been wearing earlier, but his hair was mussed as though he had been raking his fingers through it. In his hand he was holding a tumbler and eyeing its amber contents, Kitty hazarded a guess that it was whiskey. From the belligerent expression on his face, she would put money on him having had more than one.

  Oh, why did it have to be him that opened the door? She ducked past him with a mumbled thanks. She needed to talk to him but now was not the time because she was not up to any more confrontational conversations especially not if he’d been drinking. She heard the front door close, and as she reached the bottom of the stairs she froze with one hand o
n the rail as he cleared his throat. No words followed, and as she took the stairs two at a time she could feel his eyes following her, but she didn’t pause to look back over her shoulder.

  Closing her bedroom door with a sense of relief she bent down to undo the straps on her shoes, and kicking them off a moment later she stared at her bed in disbelief. Draped across it was her mother’s white dress. She stared at it as questions as to how it had come to be here raced through her mind. Her mother must have left it with Christian along with the rest of her history she decided, before picking it up and stroking the soft cotton fabric. It was Rosa’s dress. The dress she had been wearing the day she met Michael, the day she married him, and the day Christian took his photograph. She held it to her nose and inhaled trying to catch the scent of her mother as she had once been. It smelt fresh like summer, and she didn’t know she was crying until she put the dress back down on the bed and saw that her tears had turned a patch of the cotton translucent.

  Chapter 22

  A silent mouth is melodious – Irish Proverb

  Kitty sniffed appreciatively as she descended the stairs the next morning and was greeted by the aroma of what could only be freshly brewed coffee. Following her nose she headed in the direction of the kitchen. She pushed open the door and found the room empty except for Simone, who was standing at the counter top looking out the window at the courtyard beyond.

  She turned upon hearing Kitty enter. “Good morning, you are well rested?”

  With a nod, Kitty pulled a chair out to sit down at the table noticing it was laid with a stack of breakfast plates and a bowl filled with croissants. She placed her hands on her tummy as it rumbled at the sight of them reminding her that she had hardly eaten a thing the day before. “The bed was super comfy thanks. How about you, did you sleep well?”

  “Oui merci. Café?” She picked up the pot from the stove and Kitty nodded again. “Yes please.” She was glad when the other woman busied herself finding a cup and saucer because she wasn’t up to much in the way of conversation until she’d had her first cup of the morning, and the caffeine had begun to flow through her bloodstream. Simone, she noticed watching her movements through eyes that still felt heavy with sleep, looked as immaculately coiffed as always which was no mean feat given the time of morning.

  Her gaze travelled to the clock on the wall. It was after nine, so it wasn’t that early after all. She couldn’t use the time as an excuse for her slovenliness. Her hand had smoothed her crumpled T-shirt before her gaze flicked back to Simone. No woman had the right to look that put together before mid-day she decided, yawning and accepting the proffered cup a moment later with a grateful smile. She helped herself to the cream in the little jug on the table, and Simone pushed the bowl of croissants toward her before sitting down opposite her.

  “Take one Kitty s´il vous plaít, they are very good. Christian, he is an early riser he went and bought them for breakfast as soon as the patisserie opened.”

  Mm freshly baked croissants, when in France and all that Kitty thought reaching for a plate before helping herself to one of the buttery pastries. She had slept solidly she realised, sipping her coffee, and beginning to feel more human as it worked its magic. She hadn’t expected to after everything that had happened that day. Turning the light out she’d pulled the covers up feeling wired as her mind began to replay all the conversations she’d had. They were muddled in with snippets from her mother’s journal and the discovery of her dress. The wedding ring Michael had given Rosa felt foreign on her finger, and she was conscious of it as her thoughts raced.

  Despite all this, exhaustion had won out, and it hadn’t taken her long to drop off. She’d only woken once in the night with that befuddled feeling of not knowing where she was, but she had gone back off again pretty smartly. Kitty placed her cup back in its saucer and picked up her croissant eyeing it for a moment. She knew the French dunked them in their coffee, but she couldn’t bring herself to do so. So, deciding she much preferred the light flaky texture of the pastry just the way it was, she bit into it. It was delicious, and she munched away contentedly, knowing she had crumbs all over her mouth and most probably decorating her chin too but not caring. Simone looked across the table at her in amusement. “I told you they were good.”

  Kitty mumbled with her mouth full. “Yeah really good, thanks.” As she helped herself to another one.

  The door opened then, and Jonny appeared looking dishevelled as if he’d had a heavy night. Kitty eyed him speculatively as he greeted Simone, wondering just how many whiskeys he had knocked back last night. More than a night cap or two if his bleary eyes were anything to go by. He pulled out a chair and sat down, looking over at her as he ran his fingers through his hair in what was obviously an unconscious habit of his. “Enjoying that are you?”

  Kitty’s hand flew to her mouth to wipe the crumbs away, and she shot him a look. He must think her a right greedy girl what with her nose having been stuck to the patisserie window last night and sitting here now in the light of day scoffing croissants. She was grateful to Simone bustling over with a cup of coffee for him. The distraction provided her with the opportunity to size him up, and she could see that he hadn’t shaved. His damp hair was curling at the nape of his neck so at least he’d taken the time to shower she thought.

  She wondered what his attitude toward her would be like this morning as she licked her finger before dabbing at the crumbs on her plate. Popping it into her mouth she made a decision, today was a new day. She would put the things he had said to her yesterday behind her because it was going to be strange enough posing for the photograph without them being at odds too. She would make the effort to get off on the right foot starting with offering him a croissant.

  He looked at her over the rim of his cup, and she smiled gesturing to the bowl, he already thought her a bit of a Miss Piggy so what the heck. “Go on have one before I eat them all because they’re delicious.” He returned her smile, and Kitty felt a jolt pleasure, from the tips of her toes all the way to the top of her scalp that tingled under his gaze. She felt irrationally proud to be on the receiving end of his nice smile for a change rather than his usual snarl. Simone looked at Kitty and then back at Jonny with a knowing glint in her eyes before clapping her hands and breaking the spell.

  “Eat up you two. Catherine Duvall from Tres Belle will be here soon to do your hair and makeup for the photo shoot.”

  At the mention of hair and makeup Jonny looked aghast but Simone ignored him. “She has caught the express train from Paris and Christian has gone with Pierre to collect her from the station in Nimes. We are lucky to have her on board because she will work wonders with you both, especially you Jonny.” The look she shot him left little room for doubt that she was unimpressed by his dishevelled appearance.

  Kitty hadn’t even thought about the practicalities of the photo shoot assuming she would simply tie her hair up like her mother’s had been in the original photograph. She’d don a pair of flats for the first time in a long while, and put on that beautiful dress. That done, she’d be good to go and pose in the square with Jonny. After all, she reasoned to herself the day the original picture had been snapped Rosa and Michael had simply been strolling along minding their own business. She supposed with the magazine commissioning today’s shoot they would want what they were paying for, and that was a glossed up reproduction of the original.

  At the moment, she thought glancing over at Jonny he was looking more than a bit rough and ready. Remembering her own unmade up face, she knew a photograph of her in her current state wouldn’t send copies of the magazine flying off the shelves. A thought occurred to her then, and her hand flew up to her bangs hoping that the hair part of hair and makeup did not mean what she had a sneaking suspicion it meant.

  “Have you tried your maman’s belle dress on yet Kitty?”

  She forgot about her fringe as she nodded. “It was such a surprise to see it, I never expected you to have Mum’s actual dress. How did you get it?
” Kitty asked Simone, who had gotten up to begin clearing the dishes on the bench into the dishwasher.

  “Rosa, your maman she gave it to Christian a long time ago I think.”

  Kitty made a mental note to ask him. She didn’t see Jonny’s bemused expression as he watched her from across the table.

  Her thoughts were interrupted as they heard the front door bang shut followed by the clacking of heels heading down the hallway toward them. The kitchen door was pushed open a moment later by a stylish woman clad head to toe in black, her Gucci glasses holding back smooth, glossy auburn locks from an immaculately made up face. Both she and Jonny sat up to attention with their respective croissants hovering halfway to their mouths as the glamorous spectre stalked into the room looking like she meant business. Christian followed in her perfumed wake.

  She air-kissed Simone first which was just as well otherwise she’d have left great big red lipstick marks on her cheeks Kitty thought, as the woman then turned her attention to both her and Jonny.

  “Kitty, Jonny this is Catherine Duvall from Tres Belle magazine.” Simone said looking a tiny bit in awe of the redheaded vision herself.

  “Please, you can call me Cat.” She said giving them a nod of acknowledgement before tilting her head to one side as she eyed them both uttering a tut-tutting sound as she did so.

  Cat suited her Kitty decided, because there was something feline about her, and she swapped a nervous smile with Jonny as to what they were in for. Cat turned her attention back to Simone and fired something off in French which Kitty guessed wasn’t complimentary given Simone’s grave expression. The two women had conferred rapidly in their native tongue for a moment before Simone looked at Kitty. “First things first Kitty, Cat says she will need to how you say? Erm, cut your fringe.” She made a snipping motion with her fingers and Kitty slunk down in her seat.