The Riviera (12 page)

Lizzie took the weighty item and let the chain slide down her fingers. As soon as she clamped her eyes on the miniature picture of her gran, and a baby, a huge lump clogged her throat. Her hand shot to her mouth.

‘Oh, is this…?’

‘I think it must be.’ Caroline’s eyes were welling up too. ‘I can’t believe Gran had been wearing it all that time and my mum had never seen inside it, unless…well, she never said. But she definitely looks about the right age, her sister Emily I mean, and baby Annie. I don’t know why Gran kept it so secret.’

‘Oh, Mum, that’s so, so sad.’ Lizzie swiped her cheek. ‘So wonderful that we have this. I actually feel connected, this is part of us, you, me and Thierry. And this photo, this is your grandfather in uniform?’

‘Yes, as a young soldier.’

‘What treasure. A real family treasure. I must begin a family tree for Thierry and gather all that I can. We have all this as a start.’

Caroline wrapped her arm around her daughter with a sniff. ‘Darling, that means so much. These documents should never be lost.’

‘Don’t you worry, I will scan them into the computer so that they are safe forever.’

‘Lizzie, how did we lose ourselves all those years?’

Lizzie kissed her mother on the cheek. ‘Mum, it’s not what we had, it’s what we have now and in the future. I’m not going to fret about it, just build on it for Thierry and my future and, you never know, possibly more little grandchildren in the future.’

‘What, you and Cal are…?’

‘Mum, no, but he is definitely the one I could imagine being my husband and father. Erm, don’t tell him I told you that. I think I’ll have a shower and wake myself up,’ Lizzie said mindlessly stroking the gold locket.

‘Well, the salad I made earlier is in the fridge. I’ll put the chicken under the grill when you go up for a shower,’ Caroline said.

‘Yes, we overindulged on the pastries this morning,’ Lizzie told Michael. ‘I’m getting hungry now though. So, yes, Mum, that sounds perfect.’ Her fingers slid across a small, brown-textured book which in turn slid down to the table towards her. ‘Well, as it’s unlikely we’ll be going to London tomorrow, shall we do something else?’ she said opening up the book and scanning her eyes over it.

She flicked back to the hard cover to identify it. It read, Soldier’s Service and Pay Book. Opening it up again, she played with the inside flap. She then began reading its contents. There was such an interesting store of information and history of her great-grandfather’s. A folded form was tucked in one of the back pockets. Again like the pages, it was browning with age. When opened it was foolscap which had the Royal Crest at the top and large letters G & R inscribed either side. It was a Third Class Certificate of Education. Modified for India, it said, and dated February 1921.

‘Oh, bless, look at this.’ She read through the attainments. ‘At least he was “proficient in writing” and could “write a simple letter”. A fair bit of arithmetic,’ she added passing it to Michael and flicked back the smaller pocket which had tiny folds to presumably store papers. At first, it appeared empty but on closer inspection Lizzie spotted a small note on thin paper.

Chapter 13

It was only slightly larger than an envelope label. Handwritten in blue ink, the writing was very small but well preserved. It was dated 4
^th
September 1940. It read:

Dearest Stark family, my sincerest sympathy and condolences to you all. Your daughter and loving friend Emily will be deeply missed and I only hope Annie is well as I haven’t heard whether she was found. I would love to hear from you. My love and thoughts are with you. Dorothy. xxx

Lizzie almost choked. ‘Mum,’ she began shaking, her heart sinking. ‘This is awful. I’m not going to rest now until I find out more.’

‘Show me? You go and have your shower, sweetheart. We don’t seem to have a death certificate for Annie, perhaps we should hold that thought.’

‘Yes, if she was in a pram, she may have been better protected,’ Lizzie said, hopefully.

Michael pinched his nose and shook his head whilst both Caroline and Lizzie looked at him for answers.

‘Anything is possible,’ he said sitting back and showing empty helpless palms, ‘but don’t go building up your hopes. I’m sure, if she had lived, your grandmother would have raised her and you would have known about her. In my opinion, it’s pointless searching for someone who never survived.’

Caroline’s mouth tightened. ‘He’s right, I think we’re being optimistic.’

‘Well, I’m happy to at least try, if you want to.’ Lizzie glared at her mother. ‘I just couldn’t bear the thought of having a relative still alive who we, or I, never bothered to find.’

Pinching her chin, Caroline forced a smile. ‘It would be amazing, but…’

‘But, even if she did survive, how many people live until they’re seventy-five?’ Michael added. ‘You’re setting yourselves up for a fall.’

Lizzie thought for a moment. ‘I would like Mum to know either way; for her own peace of mind. And, me, because I could have cousins, or second cousins. There is a record somewhere, either death or adoption, and I’m going to find it.’

‘OK. Let’s do this. Here’s the pile for any relevant information we might need.’ Caroline began with a fierce determination and started a separate pile at her end of the table. She glanced at Lizzie. ‘You go and shower, Michael and I will get some organisation going.’

Lizzie’s head was buzzing as she showered but she was now feeling wide awake and eager to begin the search. She could barely eat a thing as she sat down to her salad. But, after they’d had their dinner and Lizzie had bathed Thierry, Caroline insisted she read to him and put him to bed. Lizzie sat at her laptop at the kitchen table and began her research. She began with Dickie’s family name. Lesson one, she needed to get to grips with some of the ancestor sites. She noted anything she could find including an address in Essex listed on the electoral role. There was a chance someone may be there. She decided to list every orphanage, convent, mother’s home and adoption agency she could find that was within a three mile radius adding emails and telephone numbers. Many from the era were now closed, knocked down or converted buildings, but noted for further reference. Caroline, now back down from her grandmother duties, and Michael sifted through the paperwork again offering as much information as they could. It was nearly eleven before Lizzie had what she thought was a good initial list. She would compose a pro-forma tomorrow and email as many as she could in the hope they may direct them in some way. Or, by some miracle, come up with something. It was likely Annie’s name had changed.

Lizzie spent the next day sending emails and exploring more possibilities of Annie’s whereabouts, registry offices, town halls, parish churches, whilst Thierry spent time with his gran. The hours whizzed away but she was thankful she didn’t have too much time to dwell on Cal, and it felt good for her to have discovered so much about her heritage, even a heirloom which meant so much. Even if they reached a dead end, she would know that she’d tried, for everyone’s sake.

Lizzie entered her apartment and threw down her keys and bags then eased Thierry’s hand from his travel trolley. It was great to be away but there was always that familiar comfort of home when you returned. And the apartment did look invitingly clean and fresh with the doors pulled back and a cool breeze circulating. Marie-Claire appeared from the terrace to greet them looking heavy-eyed like she’d been asleep. It was beautifully mild outside so Lizzie couldn’t blame her. It was nearly April.

‘It has been very quiet here, welcome home,’ Marie-Claire gave Lizzie a quick hug and peck on both her cheeks before immediately squatting down and swallowing Thierry with her arms. ‘I’ve missed you, my little superhero. Did you have a lovely time?’

Lizzie left them to catch up and, hanging up her now overly-warm coat, she headed straight for the kitchen and filled the kettle.

‘Here, let me make you a drink,’ said Marie-Claire. ‘You sit outside and catch some sun before it goes down.’

‘No, you and Thierry have a lot to chat about. He’ll tell you all about his trips on the boat and the Whaling Museum and the beaches, and Jack, Cal and his gran. You’ll be exhausted in an hour. What would you like to drink?’

‘I’ll have some water, thank you,’ Thierry’s nanny said and sat on the sofa pulling him up on her lap as he chatted.

Sipping her tea on the terrace with the warmth from the sun hitting her cheeks, Lizzie let her eyes drop as she reflected on the last two weeks. Although progress with Jack was slow, she was confident Cal would get him through and could at least look forward to them returning to Cannes in a couple of weeks. Her mind wandered to them all being able to make the first visit together to Cal’s new vineyard and villa. He’d waited so long after a dispute with the freehold had held up the sale. He really deserved to begin living his dream. It was so good of his friend Jes to help getting the vines sprayed and to deal with the new rootstock he’d ordered.

Her thoughts turned to Michael and just how well he’d soon got to grips with the role he’d taken over from Cal. She was sure Cal had gifted everything back to her mother. All the vines he’d planted, the new winery. It seemed madness when she thought of all the love and labour he’d put into it, not to mention the finances. Maybe she would ask him one day. As she relaxed, and her mind drifted, she wondered what her father and grandfather would make of the changes on their farm. And what they would think of Cal. It seemed so long ago now since her father’s death; fourteen years. How sad he never got to meet his grandchild. How sad she’d never got to ask him more about himself. She knew he loved the farm and the animals but there were things about him she was never old enough to discover, she being twelve when he died.

Her mother must have suffered far more than she’d ever realised. When she’d assumed her mother was cold and heartless, but then, discovering it was her way of dealing with it, made her much more human. How glad she was now they’d managed to bond and put the past behind them. Lizzie smiled. She would love to find out what happened to her mother’s missing cousin. It would be even more amazing to find, after all these years, she had family after all.

Lizzie must have dropped off. She heard Thierry calling but her eyes were struggling to open and she could barely bring herself to consciousness.

‘Mummy, Sophie’s here. Mummy, Mummy,’ Thierry repeated then pulled her arm.

‘Hey, sleepyhead. You’ll get cold out here.’ Sophie’s voice filtered through and then Thierry climbed on her lap and dived onto her stomach.

‘Mummy, sleepyhead,’ he shouted finally waking her.

‘Ah, ouch, Thierry Lambert, you are getting heavy.’

‘A long day, sweet?’ Sophie rubbed Lizzie’s shoulders. ‘Come on in. Marie-Claire’s making you a nice hot cup of tea. I see you brought a supply back with you.’

Lizzie grabbed Thierry and stood heaving his heavy weight onto her hip. ‘Yes. Hi, sorry, not quite firing on all cylinders, how are you?’ She forced out a cheery smile greeting her friend.

‘I’m good. Thought I’d pop in for a quick catch-up as I’m collecting a pizza and going to see Charles for a couple of hours. So, come, do tell me what you two have been up to.’

Sophie was soon on the floor playing cars with Thierry as Lizzie revealed all about their trips. Marie-Claire then called him for his tea and Lizzie marched to the fridge for a bottle of wine and grabbed the corkscrew.

‘So, a mission now to find your mum’s aunt. Sounds exciting but, yes, a real problem particularly if her name has changed,’ Sophie said.

‘Well, I’m hoping the letter I sent to Dickie’s family finds its way and I hear something, however small. Failing that, I really have no idea where to start. I’ve emailed so many people. I do need to check my emails though. I haven’t checked since last night.’

‘Gosh, I wouldn’t have a clue either. You may have to employ Inspector Clouseau for this one!’

Lizzie took two glasses from the cabinet and poured the cool white wine. She passed one to Sophie. ‘Well, we’ll see what happens and keep fingers crossed.’

‘Just what I need, thanks,’ Sophie said taking a large gulp. ‘Oh, don’t mind me, check your email. There might be something back already.’

Lizzie took a swig and then placed her glass down before dashing to her room. Taking the laptop from her bag, she placed it on the coffee table and started it up.

‘So, what about you. What’s new in your life?’

Sophie twisted her mouth and peered momentarily at the ceiling. ‘Oh, not new, the usual, Charles is working, I’m working. I’ve got some tentative dates for the US. Oh, yes. That should be the fourth of April by the way. The meeting is not until the tenth but as its Easter, it was the best time I could drag Charles away from his case files. So we’ll have a break first, unwind a bit hopefully.’

‘Oh exciting, you’re a genius. That could be huge! But the break will do you both good. You’d better not mention to Charles Cal will be back for Easter.’

‘No, best not. Hopefully we’ll catch him before he takes Jack back.’

Lizzie scratched her temple. ‘Yes.’

‘And he’s sure to come back after a few days, once Jack is settled.’

Lizzie opened her email. ‘I hope so. Jack seems OK in himself, it’s just getting him back to school I think is now…oh,’ she bounced in her chair, ‘oh, I think we have something.’ Lizzie’s eyes scanned the screen. ‘Oh, oh, Jesus. No. This is from Dickie’s niece, she says de da…
Sorry, we cannot help, we don’t have any information.
’

Lizzie glared at the screen, her eyes dulling by the second.

Sophie jumped round to her side and cradled her. ‘You can’t embark on something like this and expect too much, Liz. Something like this takes time. You may never know the truth but, you can’t get emotionally involved, certainly not at this stage. I’m not suggesting give up. It just won’t be easy. So, let me get this straight. All you know is she doesn’t have a death certificate. You may have to prepare yourself. If his family didn’t know, it’s unlikely she survived. Hopefully, she was taken home by someone and passed to the authorities where she was cared for, or they were genuinely unable to trace her mother or family which may mean her death may never have been recorded in her name.’