The Traveller's Daughter Page 9

  Kitty stared at Christian. She had not expected that. She had assumed Rosa and Michael’s teenage romance had been like a firecracker that had fizzled brightly for a moment in time and then burned out as first love affairs often do. She swigged at her glass trying to calm her thoughts and put the pieces of the puzzle together. “Look I’m sorry Christian, but I am finding it hard to follow what you are telling me. I mean are you sure there hasn’t been a mix up somewhere along the way? You know what with the language barrier and all maybe you misunderstood them because my mum can’t possibly have been one of those Traveller people. Yes she could be a bit kooky at times but she used words like rambunctious for goodness sake, and she knew how to spell it too.” Kitty knew she was grasping at straws and the thing that was niggling at her was that despite her protestations Christian obviously had a good grasp of the English language. He had no reason to embellish Rosa and Michael’s story unlike Rosa herself who it was becoming clearer had obviously had her reasons for not talking about it.

  Christian leaned forward and placed his hand on top of hers making a tsking sound as he saw her chewed nails. They felt stumpy and strange, and she wanted to curl her fingers up and hide them away, but it was too late. She’d chomped them all off on the flight over and hadn’t even known she was doing it until she’d felt the woman in the seat next to her eyeing her curiously. He gave her hand a squeeze and she felt the warmth of it as she studied his rings. Despite what he had just told her she instinctively liked him, this link with her mother’s past. He was flamboyant and a little egocentric, but she could sense that he was also genuine. She wondered idly how on earth he’d ever get those rings of his off. His knuckles were large and knobbly and looked to have expanded over the top of the gold bands with the passing of the years.

  “Listen to me ma chérie I will tell you what I know from the beginning. I can see you need to know this.” He removed his hand from hers and sitting back in his seat clasped his hands round his middle. “I had come to Uzés on an assignment to photograph the annual running of the bulls. Instead, I take the photograph of Rosa and Michael, and it made me famous.” Christian clapped his hands then held them out palms up. “It is fate. If I hadn’t of decided to stay on for a few more days before returning to Paris, then I would never have taken Midsummer Lovers.” His eyes twinkled. “Maybe not just down to fate because there was a certain waitress who had caught my eye. That was why I was sitting here that day just like I am today. Although sadly this maître de, he does not possess the same charms as the lovely Eva did.” His gaze flicked toward a nearby table whose patrons had left an array of dirty dishes. The waiter was loading his tray with them, a scowl on his unshaven features. Kitty guessed he hadn’t been left a tip.

  “I was people watching that afternoon when I saw them. You know this is a photographer’s favourite past time because the ways of the human race are a fascinating thing to observe through the lens of a camera. Michael, he saw me take their picture and he was not happy. The gypsy people they are erm, hot blooded,” he paused and Kitty could tell he was enjoying the drama of his tale. He cleared his throat and took a sip of his wine before continuing. “But they are also a poetic people with artistic souls, and it is this side of Michael I appealed to.”

  Kitty frowned, the Travellers she’d seen on the tele had never struck her as poetic people, dodgy but not poetic.

  “He liked the romance of what I tell him I have just frozen forever on film and as I am by myself, I invited them to join me for a glass of vino. They did, and this is when they tell me a little of their love story.”

  She was nervous Kitty realised, her sting momentarily forgotten as she leaned forward in her seat, determined not to miss a word of what she had waited so long to hear.

  “Michael told me that he and Rosa had run away together to start a new life.” He released her hand and shrugged. “I wondered as we sat here talking if perhaps this is because their families did not approve of their love affair. They were both so young to be married.”

  “Married?” Kitty’s jaw dropped. She had not expected that. Her mother’s marriage to her father was her second. She wondered if he had known.

  “Oui. They probably had no choice it was a different time, and the Irish were so much more uptight about affairs of the heart than we French.”

  Kitty sat there shocked as she tried to envisage her mother as the girl she had been at sixteen. A girl so much in love with a man that she had thrown caution to the wind and married him. Not only that, but she had left her family behind for him and what a family they’d been if what Christian were telling her was true. She couldn’t visualize that kind of unbridled passion or rebellion in the gentle, quietly spoken mother she had known. Nor did she particularly want to, but then she supposed most daughters struggled to imagine their mother’s having had a life so separate from their own. When she thought of her mother, she didn’t think of Rosa the woman, she thought of her mum, a wife in an apron, a homemaker. When she wasn’t pottering about the house or garden, or listening over the fence to Dorothy’s latest gossipy tidbit she had her nose buried in a book.

  Her life as a widow without her daughter at home had been a rather solitary one despite the numerous groups she had joined since Peter had passed away. Looking back Kitty felt guilty at having not spent more time with her. She had been so caught up in her life with Damien that she had never stopped to think that perhaps she might have been lonely. Maybe if she had taken more time with her, Rosa might have felt she could confide in her. That was the problem when someone you loved died; there was no going back to try and do better by them because it was just too late.

  Christian sat back in his chair. “I fear I am going to disappoint you ma chérie because Michael and Rosa’s story it does not, as you know with his death have a happy ending. Then c’est la vie I think because if it did then you would not be sitting here with me now.”

  He was right Kitty realised, feeling a bit strange at the thought. “You said they’d run away together, I am assuming they ran away from Ireland? I know that’s where my mother came from but I don’t know any more than that.”

  “Oui this is so. There was a fight of some sort between their families I think, and Michael and Rosa felt they had no choice but to leave their old life and its traditional ways. I could see though that it hurt them both deeply to leave the people they loved behind. They came to France to put some distance between their memories, and they are happy together picking the grapes for a while in the small village of Gigondas. When the season is finished, they hitch a ride and come here to Uzés with no plans as to what they will do next. That is when I met them, and sadly Michael died only a few weeks after I took their photograph.”

  Christian’s eyes she saw had misted over at the memory. She paused for a moment unsure as to whether she should keep pushing – but she had come a long way and she had waited a long time to hear this story.

  Chapter 9

  A friend’s eye is a good mirror – Irish Proverb

  “How did Michael die, Christian?” The sun was still high in the sky and Kitty wished she had a hat with her because she could feel its heat penetrating her scalp. Christian sighed and laid his hands down flat on the table. They were mapped by bluish-green veins and she wondered fleetingly what the gypsy woman outside the Cathedral would read in his palms. Whatever it was, she was sure it would be colourful.

  “It was a tragédie. It always is when one so young and so bright is taken too soon. A hit and run – the worst kind of cowardice, as he rode his bicycle back into Nimes one night. It was dark, the driver he must not have seen Michael but still not to stop, it is incomprehensible.”

  “Oh my God!” The cry escaped unbidden from Kitty’s mouth.

  Christian reached over and took her hand in his. “Rosa and Michael had only been living in Nimes for a few weeks. Michael, he had found work on a farm on the outskirts of the city, Rosa she was waitressing in a café. They had rented a tiny apartment furnished with no more than a
bed. Rosa told me later that the night he died she sat on that bed feeling the four walls close in on her as the hours passed and he did not come home to her. She told me that she felt it when he died. She knew he was gone, but she couldn’t bring herself to get off that bed not even when the knock on the door eventually came.”

  Kitty felt a solitary tear roll down her cheek, her poor, poor mother she had been widowed so very young.

  “Ah, life it is precious and far too short ma chérie. When we are young we think we will live forever, and it is the hardest lesson of all to learn that our time here is so finite.” He squeezed Kitty’s hand and did not let it go as he continued with his tale. “The door to their apartment it was unlocked and so the policeman let himself in and found Rosa there. She said he was a kind man. He made a hot, sweet drink for her and put a blanket around her shoulders before telling her that Michael’s death was instant, and that he would not have known anything about it. She tried to find comfort in knowing that he didn’t linger, suffering. But still, my God she was devastated. She had given up the world she had known to be with him and made him her life. Rosa, she is lost. She does not know where to go, but she has my address and so when morning comes she packs her bags and comes to me in Paris. She will not go back to Ireland because she fears Michael’s family will blame her for what has happened. But it was an accident I say, you mustn’t blame yourself. But non, she is adamant she cannot go back.”

  “So she came to England instead where she met my father.” Kitty finished for him.

  “Oui and when your maman wrote to tell me she was getting married I was so happy for her. She deserved to smile again, and your père helped her to do this. I never met him, but I think he must have been a very good man.”

  Kitty felt the familiar twinge of sadness she always did when she thought of her dad. He had always been there for her and then one day he simply wasn’t anymore. “Yes he was. She didn’t meet him until she was nineteen though, did she stay with you in Paris all that time?”

  “Non, Rosa she only stayed with me for a year. She got by cleaning apartments in the building we lived in. She is not the same girl I met that day in Uzés though, because with Michael gone her heart it is shattered.” He shook his head. “She was so thin and she had no appetite for food or life. Then this crazy thing happens and Midsummer Lovers it begins to storm the photography world and no longer am I a poor and struggling artist. Suddenly I am in demand and everybody wants to know me. They want to know who the couple in the photograph are too but Rosa she is not interested in sharing her story with the world. For me, the work and the commissions they roll in. I think perhaps the mystery of who the couple in the photograph are only adds to its appeal. It is like the enigmatic Mona Lisa oui?

  Kitty nodded, spellbound.

  “When I tell Rosa I must share this fortune with her she asks me to do two things. She wants me to write and tell Michael’s family he is dead and to send his share of the royalties to his younger brother, Tyson. It is Tyson who is Jonny’s father.”

  Jonny was the man she would be photographed with tomorrow Kitty realised, and she tilted her head to one side as she listened to the story unfold.

  “She felt it was the right thing to do. It would give him the chance for a new life if that were what he wanted. The money I give your maman while it does not bring her any happiness, it does bring her choices, and she decides to go to England. I was very sad when she told me she was leaving, but I understood it was time. Rosa, she was like a sister to me you understand?” His voice cracked and he took a sip of his drink, savouring the wine in his mouth a moment.

  “She writes to me now and again to tell me that she is well. But I sense reading her words that she is still a wandering, lost soul. She is always moving and never staying in one place long enough to make a life for herself. Then one day a letter arrives and her tone it is different. It is lighter, happier because she has met a man, Peter. He is kind she tells me, and he will look after her. I love him she says, and my heart it sings for her when I read they are to be married. It will be a little ceremony with no fuss she tells me. I know it was her way of telling me that I will not be invited,” he shrugged. “This is okay with me because I understand that I am her link to Michael. Then she writes to say she no longer has need of the royalties. Peter, he doesn’t want the connection with her old life to taint their new one so, as I told you before, she asks me to send the money to your aunt.”

  Kitty rubbed her temples; there was so much to take in.

  “An olive ma chérie?” Christian offered her the little dish in an attempt to lighten the sombre atmosphere that had settled over their table.

  She shook her head. “No thank you.” She had never been a fan of the stone fruit ever since she had shoveled several in her mouth as a child thinking they were grapes. It was up there with the story Yasmin had told her about the time she took her little brother out and bought him some sushi. He thought the wasabi paste on the side was green icing and had shoved the whole lot in his mouth before he could be stopped.

  Christian put the dish down. “I don’t hear from Rosa again for many years until she is pregnant with you. Your maman she wrote to tell me she has her happy ending at last and that ma belle is where my story ends also well almost.”

  Kitty’s eyes prickled with the pain of losing her mother. It smacked into her afresh the fact she was gone, taking her unawares. Blinking back the tears she realised Christian had said his story wasn’t quite finished, and she looked at him expectantly.

  “Rosa has given me something to pass on to you. When I went to see her that last time she told me she had a gift she wanted to leave for you.”

  “What is it?” Kitty was astounded at her mother’s absolute certainty that she would agree to come to Uzés for the photo shoot with this Jonny whose history was, in a way, tangled up with her own and Christian’s. At the same time, she couldn’t help but wonder why her mother hadn’t just left whatever it was with her solicitors’ to give to her like she had her rings.

  “It is a journal ma chérie and the reason she asked me to give it to you here is that she felt it right that I am the one to pass it on to you. I was both her friend and her tie to the past you see.”

  Kitty’s heart began to beat faster. “Where is it? Do you have it with you now?” She needed to see it with her own eyes, to touch it before she would believe it existed.

  “It is at la maison where we are staying. I will give it to you when we get back there because I think you will need privacy in which to read it oui?”

  She nodded, that made sense but it didn’t stop her wanting to hold it in her hands right this minute, and when her phone announced the arrival of a text she was grateful for the distraction. Retrieving it from her bag a quick glance revealed it was from Yasmin. She chewed her bottom lip; she owed her friend a reply after hanging up on her the way she did earlier. Christian still had half a glass of his wine to finish before they’d head back to the house, wherever it was. “I’m sorry Christian I need to reply to this. Would you excuse me a moment?”

  “Oui of course. More wine?”

  “No!” She didn’t mean to snap, but she was desperate to get hold of the journal and did not want to while away another hour sitting here sipping wine, as lovely as it was. All that aside the painful throbbing in her nether regions was getting worse. If she had to take an antihistamine later to take the swelling down she was probably best not to overdo the alcohol or she wouldn’t be able to give the journal the attention it deserved. “Sorry, I mean no thank you. I didn’t mean to snap.”

  “I understand you want to see this book of Rosa’s. It is fine, I will finish this.” He tapped the side of his glass. “And then we will walk back to the house together.”

  She smiled her thanks and began tapping out a message to Yasmin. She told her she had arrived in Uzés safe and sound, adding that she would phone her once she got to wherever it was she was staying. She’d fill her in on all that she had learned so far then
she decided, pushing send and grimacing, she had an itch she most definitely couldn’t scratch in a public square!

  “You look uncomfortable ma chérie are you alright?” Christian’s craggy features creased with concern.

  Kitty didn’t fancy launching into an explanation as to how she’d come to get a wasp sting on her bum so she said, “It’s just been a huge day Christian that’s all.”

  “Oui I forget you have had an early start and then all this information, it is a lot for you to take in I think.” He waved up at the sky that to Kitty’s surprise was beginning to darken. She had been so lost in what Christian had been saying she hadn’t notice the dark clouds rolling in or that the air had gotten heavy with the promise of rain.

  “It is a spring storm brewing. Still, it does not matter because the forecast is good for tomorrow when we will take the photograph. We will have the mid-day sun shining down on you and Jonny the way it did on Rosa and Michael. Un moment.” He lifted his glass to his mouth.

  The way the pairing of their names rolled off Christian’s tongue made the little hairs on Kitty’s arm stand on end, and once more her gaze swept the square half expecting to see, what exactly? She was getting fanciful she told herself, watching as Christian downed what was left of his wine and smiled at her. His teeth she noticed, weren’t quite so neon white after all those glasses of red wine.

  “Shall we go ma chérie?” He asked with one eyebrow raised.

  “Yes please.” She was already up and out of her seat, glad not only to get moving but to take the pressure off her backside. As much as she wanted to head straight back to the house she knew she was going to have to get something for the sting. She’d obviously had an allergic reaction. “Do you mind if we call in at a pharmacy first? I think I saw one up on the main road, it’s through there isn’t it?” She pointed to the opposite end of the square where a woman dragging a child behind her along the path under the arched walkway disappeared from their line of sight.