Chapter 75

Chapter 75

Emma

Red how she had never had children; how, when she retired after a life at sea, she moved to Suffolk to be near her sister, happily tending her garden until she died.

She is partway through typing a reply to Alistair when Betty joins her, carrying a pot of coffee.

‘Everything good with you?' Emma asks, already knowing the answer. Les and Betty have decided to come back to Paris in the autumn to celebrate their fortieth wedding anniversary.

‘More than good, love,' Betty says, sitting down. ‘Do you remember I said Les had some ideas for the garden centre? Well, he told me on the phone last night that the deal he's been working on is ready to go through. And, if I agree, we'll be selling a small parcel of our land.'

‘Really?' Emma tries to sound positive, but she knows it comes out as worried.

Betty smiles, reassuringly. ‘He says you gave him the idea when you talked about what you could do with a small plot– you remember, to give people some inspiration? Well, it gave him the notion that maybe we didn't need quite so much land and could manage with a bit less. It will give us money to do the renovations and it will mean we won't be worrying. Plus we can visit New Zealand each year– we thought January would be a good time to go.'

‘Who are you selling the land to?'

‘Well, that's the great part, love. The council is keen to provide more allotments in the area, and so they're offering a very good price. In the long run it saves them money if they can add to an existing site rather than start new allotments from scratch.'

‘Perfect,' Emma says, thinking of the gardeners she has watched from the bench at the back of the garden centre.

‘Les has been talking to the bloke at the council, and we may be able to run a market in the summer to sell surplus produce from the allotments. Les already knows a few of the gardeners and they're very taken with his idea. That should bring a few more people in, along with the new café.'

‘That all sounds brilliant.'

‘Now, what about you. Are you okay, love?'

‘Yes, I am,' says Emma, and she means it. ‘I think I understand and accept a lot more than I did. You know, Betty, when I was in hospital, I thought a lot about my life and my childhood, and it struck me that you can't hold other people responsible for how you feel.'

‘You mean your mum?' Betty asks.

‘Yes, but it's more than that.' Emma pauses. ‘I think Will made such a difference to me that I thought all my happiness was wrapped up in him. In some ways, being with him made me more confident, more outgoing, but a huge part of me just sat back and relied on him to make our life happy.'

‘Do you think he resented that?'

‘Not exactly. I think, most of the time, we were genuinely happy. And when we hit tough stuff, we went through it together.'

‘Not being able to have a baby?'

Emma nods. ‘I just think, looking back, maybe the balance wasn't always quite right. Maybe I depended on him too much.'

‘And your mum?' Betty asks again.

‘I think my mother's the other side of the coin. You can't let someone who has treated you badly define you.' It strikes her that there is something liberating about saying this out loud. ‘You can't hold them responsible for how you feel.'

‘No one can make you feel inferior without your permission,' Betty says thoughtfully.

Emma darts a glance at her. ‘That's very wise, Betty.'

Betty laughs. ‘Oh, I've borrowed that one, love– I had quite a bit of time while you were out cold in the hospital. It was difficult to find books in English. I think that quote comes from a book I found about famous women. I can't remember who said it– I think, maybe, it was Eleanor Roosevelt.' She adds, in a resigned voice, ‘I must admit when I read it, I thought of my sister. I know she looks down on me, but maybe I shouldn't let it get to me so much.'

‘And she's been helping in the garden centre while you've been away– that's got to be a good thing,' Emma suggests.

Betty snorts. ‘Well, it will be interesting to see how many plants are left when she's through. I know she's planning on redoing her garden, and I bet she's been loading up her 4x4 each night.' Betty pauses, then changes the subject. ‘And Will? Have you been able to forgive him yet, love?'

Emma sighs. ‘I can't, Betty– I just can't. And you have no idea how much I want to.'

When Betty heads out to do some shopping (‘I suppose I ought to bring my sister something back from Paris'), Emma decides to tackle the suitcase that has been sitting under her hotel bed.

Her first thought on reviewing it properly is that there is disappointingly little to see: a photo album and a small bundle of documents. The album is of her father's family– subjects staring out at her in their Sunday best. As she turns the pages, the shots become less formal and she follows her father from when he was a little boy up until he was a student in the late sixties. Emma recognises Granny Maria's handwriting in the white lettering annotating the black pages. She looks for older relatives in the photos, and thanks to Granny Maria's careful notation she is able to identify many of them. The names all tally with her trawl through the Spanish ancestry sites– now she can put faces to some of the names.

She looks at the people in the photos and thinks of the list of professions she has uncovered, everything from dentists to dressmakers. But nobody has a link to shipping or service onboard ship.

Next, she tackles the documents, laying them out on the bed so that they form a patchwork quilt of births and marriages. She sits back against the headboard. She is definitely filling in some gaps, but she seems to be moving further away from the answer she has been secretly hoping for. As far as she can see, there is no conceivable connection between herself and a woman called Violet Jessop.

As Emma looks down at the documents and photographs spread out before her, she notices something new. It is lopsided– all the information she has leads her in one direction. Granny Maria's family is covered in considerable detail, but there are big gaps on her husband Pedro's side of the family.

In fact, as Emma sorts through the images and certificates, there is very little evidence that her grandfather's family existed at all. There is one photo of Grandpa Pedro (a man who died when Emma was a little girl) but there is no clear path she can trace back from there.

She calls her mother to ask if there are any other family albums in the flat, but it goes to voicemail.