We’re going to have to listen to the tape on an ancient Walkman Rose has dredged up, sitting next to each other on the train with one headphone each, just like we did when we were kids and Mum could only afford to buy one between us.
That invariably used to end up with us punching each other. I can only hope the same doesn’t happen while we’re on our way to Paris, to potentially meet our dear old dad. Rose hasn’t said as much, but after reading Lewis’s letter, she must also be wondering if this might be a terrible mistake.
We amble towards the exit, irritating the commuters with our slow pace, pulling our wheelie cases behind us as we start the walk to St Pancras.
‘Poppy,’ says Rose, as we emerge into the noise and bustle of Euston Road.
‘Yes?’ I reply.
‘You do know, don’t you, that that letter means our dad definitely isn’t Dumbledore?’
I nod. She’s right, sadly. Not unless there was a much darker side to Dumbledore than we all suspected.
Chapter 53
Lewis: P is for Paris
Dear Rose and Poppy,
Your mother isn’t feeling too well today, partly because of her illness, which is now taking a thorough hold of her, and partly I think because she is worried about this particular entry in her A–Z.
She wasn’t feeling up to a video; I’m sure you’ll have noticed she wasn’t at her best in the last one. We tried making a cassette recording, but she broke down in the middle of it. As you know, this is quite unlike your mother, so I persuaded her to let me handle this one instead.
Her concerns, I think, are double-fold – she is upset that she is leaving you alone to deal with this situation, wanting still, even in her darkest hour, to protect you both. She is also ashamed of certain elements of the past, although personally I see no reason for her to be – everything she did, she did for you two. It’s vital to remember that.
She’s talked to me many times about your father, and from those conversations, I will piece together what you need to know. I will also, in a separate package, leave some photographs, and his last known address – although as a disclaimer I must point out that both are many years out of date, and neither of us truly knows where he is, or even if he is still alive. I offered to hire some kind of private detective to discover more, but even the thought of it visibly shook her – as though if she poked that particular wasp’s nest, she’d be stung to death.
Anyway, your father’s name is François Henri Martin, although I believe he went by the stage name of Franky Martin. His grandparents were French, and your mother met him during a production ofRomeo and Juliet. They toured to Paris with it, and that is where their romance seems to have blossomed.
From what I’ve heard, and seen in pictures, he was a very handsome man, deeply charismatic and charming. Your mother, who was several years his junior, fell head over heels for him, and rushed into what became her first serious relationship.
After what sounds like an idyllic and passionate honeymoon phase, during which you were conceived, Rose, your mother started to see the flaws in Franky’s make-up. His public persona was one of a cool 1970s man-about-town, but secretly he was consumed by in-security and became increasingly bitter at what he perceived to be a lack of recognition within the industry. When he failed to get parts he auditioned for, he became angry and resentful, and sought solace in narcotics.
From what your mother has told me, this was initially recreational, in the way of the era – marijuana, and LSD, to start with, both of which were very fashionable within certain circles. But as their relationship went on, she began to realise that it was more than recreational for Franky – it was an addiction.
She tried to cope with the situation as best as she could, and eventually you came along, Poppy. She had hoped that the increased responsibility and the joys of fatherhood would help straighten him out, and even supported him through a phase of what we would now call detox.
However, like many addicts, he was unable to stop – and, shortly after your birth, Poppy, he also discovered heroin, which was starting to make its way into the country, especially through their American show-business friends.
I’m sure this isn’t pleasant for you two to read, but I remain convinced it was even more unpleasant for her to go through. Your mother, as you know, is an incredibly strong and loving woman – but she was also young, trying to build her own career, and caring for two small children single-handed.
I believe the crisis point came around the same time as her own mother died, and Andrea made the decision that she still believes saved your family. She used her small inheritance to put down a deposit on the cottage, moved you all to the countryside, and shut Franky out of her life. And, of course, out of your lives as well.
This has always resulted in very conflicted emotions on her part, but I trust her enough to believe that she made the right choice. I hope that you trust her enough to believe that as well.
She has asked me to help her compile a set of questions for the next letter of the A–Z, believing, rightly I am sure, that you will have many. She wants it to be personal, but in my belief is too fragile to be filmed, so I will attempt to do it via the cassette recording device. I will ask her the questions, and she will provide the best answers she can.
They might not completely satisfy your understandable curiosity, but they will simply have to do – I would remind you at this point that perhaps things might have worked out differently if you two had been around more, and she had felt you were strong enough to hear this rather unpalatable part of her history in person.
I will be as thorough as her health will allow, and try to anticipate your questions – but I must say that I will not push her further than I think she can bear. While her loyalties lie first and foremost with you two, mine lie, and always will, with her.
If you are heading to Paris, then I wish you luck. You might like to listen to the questions before or after your trip, I will leave that up to you. Just please, always, understand that your mother loves you more than I have ever known a human being love anyone before – it has been a revelation. She is going through so much pain, so much personal turmoil, and yet your wellbeing is still of paramount importance to her.
I would hope that any unanswered questions, or lingering doubts on your part, will be offset by the knowledge of that sacrifice.
With all kind regards,
Lewis Clarke-Smith
