‘So, is this definitely the house for us?’ Ben said, taking hold of Jodie’s hand. ‘Shall we put in an offer?’
The two of them were standing in the sitting room of the house they’d both loved when they’d viewed it earlier in the week. As the house was empty, Herve had given them the keys to take their time looking around on their own and they’d explored everywhere. Even the old stone hut at the bottom of the garden had been inspected thoroughly.
‘Can you see us living here?’ Jodie said. ‘I can. I love it. The views of the mountains from this room are wonderful. And…’ She hesitated, not sure whether Ben would laugh at her. ‘The house has a nice feeling about it. A welcoming, happy feeling.’
Ben didn’t laugh. ‘I feel that too. When we take the keys back we’ll tell Herve our offer and hope it’s accepted.’
Half an hour later they handed the keys back to Herve and Ben told him their offer.
‘D’accord. I’ll be in touch.’
‘How soon do you think we’ll hear?’ Jodie said as they made their way home.
Ben shrugged. ‘A day or two maybe.’
Back home, Ben disappeared into his study with a coffee while Jodie took hers out onto the veranda and began to compile a to-do list:
write a couple of press releases; notify publishers; update computer address files; contact a couple of journalist friends; get the business loan organised; get dates for conferences where Tina could meet potential clients; find Filofax
Over the years Jodie had adapted to working and keeping essential information on a computer, but as a backup she also kept a diary, addresses and contact phone numbers in her treasured Filofax.
Jacqueline had given her the leather-bound organiser for her twenty-first birthday and she’d used it every day of her working life since. No way could she even contemplate working on agency business without it.
Packing up her things before marrying Ben and moving to France, Jodie had hesitated before putting the Filofax in a box which contained some of her mum’s unsorted photos and other things. If she wasn’t working, she didn’t need to carry it around. All these months later the box remained unpacked with other boxes at the bottom of the old armoire in the spare bedroom.
Finishing her coffee, Jodie went up to the bedroom and pulled out the first box. Full of paperbacks and nothing else she pushed it back into place. No point in unpacking it now – with luck, she and Ben would be moving in a couple of months. She’d unpack the paperbacks then and put them straight on the shelves in the sitting room of their new home.
Opening the next box, Jodie found the personal paperwork she’d unearthed when clearing out her mum’s flat after she died. An envelope full of papers – birth certificates, the faded marriage certificates of her grandparents, lots of old official documents. Sealed envelopes she’d never opened and whose contents remained a mystery. Other envelopes were full of things she hadn’t been able to bear the thought of throwing out – letters from grandparents, childish birthday cards, old school reports. The flotsam and jetsam of an older generation – little family mementoes she might one day pass on to her own children. At the time she’d packed everything up, she’d promised herself she’d go through it all and sort it when she was feeling stronger and wasn’t liable to burst into tears every five minutes, remembering her mum. Another box to sort when they were in the new house.
Rummaging through things in the hope that her Filofax would prove to be in this particular box, she smiled as a photo fell out of an unsealed envelope. A photo she didn’t remember seeing before of herself as a three-or four-year-old, wearing her favourite winter coat with its velvet collar and sleeve cuffs. The coat formed part of her earliest memories; she’d loved it and insisted on wearing it until it was threadbare and too small for her. The day Jacqueline had thrown it in the rubbish, she’d screamed and cried.
Jodie could see she’d already outgrown it on the day of this photo but had probably created such a fuss when told she couldn’t wear it that Jacqueline had given in for a quiet life.
It took Jodie only a few seconds to recognise where the photo had been taken. It was the station from where, years later, between the ages of eleven and seventeen, she’d caught the 8.15 to school. The old-fashioned station clock and the chocolate-vending machine had still been in situ and were instantly recognisable. Alongside the No.1 platform she was standing on – well back from the edge, she noted – there was a train pulling out and a man leaning out of a carriage window, waving. He looked like… It was. It was the man in the pendant photo. Her father.
Something shifted in her head. This had to be the last time she’d seen him before he died. Brief, forgotten snapshots of the final meeting filtered into her mind.
‘Daddy is going away on an important job,’ Jacqueline had told her. ‘He’ll be away a long time so we’re going to see him off.’
‘Can we go to the park afterwards?’ Jodie had said.
‘We’ll see. Come on. Get in the car, otherwise we’ll miss saying goodbye.’
Jodie remembered finding it odd that her mum was driving. Dad was the one who always drove. When they got to the station she’d seen him standing there, a suitcase at his feet, and went running towards him. He’d bent down with his arms outstretched and she’d run straight into them for her usual hug and swing. She remembered struggling to be released afterwards, he was holding her so tight.
‘You be a good girl for your mummy now and I’ll see you soon,’ he said, giving her another, gentler hug before letting her go and boarding the train. She’d stood there holding Jacqueline’s hand and waving goodbye until the train disappeared around a bend in the track.
Weeks later, with tears streaming down her face, Jacqueline had gently told her that there had been an accident and that Daddy had gone to heaven.
Jodie sighed. So many memories were going to be stirred up by these boxes – some sad, some happy. It would all have to keep until she and Ben had moved. Once they were in their new home she’d definitely do a final sorting of these few family heirlooms. Right now, she just needed her Filofax. She pushed the box to one side and opened another one and found it sitting on top of a jumble of papers and more photos.
As she lifted the organiser out, her mother’s happy face looked up at her from a silver-framed photo. Sitting on a stone wall bordering a beach, she was licking a large ice-cream cone and looked so happy. This was how she wanted to remember her mum.
Jodie lifted the frame up. ‘If you knew how much I miss you, Mum,’ she whispered before gently kissing the frame. There was no way she could put this back in the box now she’d found it. Turning, she crossed the room and decided she would place the frame on her bedside table. Perfect.
Carrying the Filofax, Jodie made her way back down to the kitchen. Time to prepare lunch. Afterwards she’d make a start on the to-do list and then Skype Tina to discuss things in more detail.
Jodie had just placed the baguette and tomato and mozzarella salad on the table and was about to call Ben when her phone rang. Nicola.
‘Hi. Tea tomorrow afternoon? I’d love to. About three? OK. I’ll walk down. OK if I bring Tess? See you then.’