‘Maman, this is Mia,’ Joe said, his fingers colliding more tightly with hers, before she had a chance to ask him.
‘Mia, I’m Marguerite,’ the woman said, her smile as easy as her son’s as she stepped forward to kiss her cheeks. ‘Well, I never expected to meet anyone new tonight, so this is a lovely surprise.’
‘It’s lovely to meet you, too,’ Mia said, not sure how to act and still wondering how it was that a restaurateur as handsome as Joe couldn’t have a real date on his arm. She didn’t like the thought of fooling his mother into thinking they were something more than they were, either, as much as she wanted his help.
‘The pleasure is all mine. Someone has kept you very quiet.’ She kissed her son’s cheeks this time as Mia watched on.
‘There’s nothing better than a surprise, is there, Maman?’ Joe teased as he kissed her in return.
‘Tell me, what brings you to France, Mia?’ his mother asked.
‘Mia is searching for answers about her family,’ Joe said. ‘Her great-aunt might have been a bootlegger in the thirties.’
‘Here, in Paris?’
Mia nodded. ‘I think so,’ she said. ‘Although I’m only guessing at this stage. She left some clues, but so far I have more questions than answers. All I know is that she was somehow linked to the production of absinthe, which is what led me here.’ She paused. ‘It’s how I met your son, in fact.’
His mother’s smile was contagious, and Mia found her hand being pulled away from Joe’s and into his mother’s.
‘There’s nothing more exciting than a good mystery,’ his mother said, tugging her towards the closest table and beckoning for his sister to join them. ‘Joe, we’re going to need more champagne. I want to know everything!’
Mia glanced at Joe, hoping he wouldn’t mind, but he just smiled and disappeared to get the drinks, while Mia let herself be led to the table. When they were seated, his mother beamed at her, and she half wondered if this was why he’d invited her, because his mother certainly seemed excited about her intriguing story.
‘I don’t know how much Joe has told you, but my family was once one of the largest producers of gin near Calais,’ she said. ‘My grandfather left America during the Prohibition era, and my father and now my brother have carried on the family business ever since.’
‘No, he didn’t mention that,’ she said.Although it makes sense, now, why I was told he might be the best person to point me in the right direction. ‘But a bartender in London actuallytold me to find your son. That he might be the one person able to help me.’
‘We’re one of only three artisan gin distilleries left in the region,’ his mother said. ‘Joe was always interested in the family business, but he wasn’t so interested in working from a dusty old distillery in the countryside. But he knows more about spirits and how to make the best cocktails than most bartenders twice his age.’
Mia fought the urge to turn and look for him, but she wondered if it might be his mother who would be more helpful to her, so she fixed all her attention on her.
‘May I show you my clues?’ Mia asked.
‘You have them on you?’ his mother responded.
Mia nodded. She hadn’t wanted to leave them in the hotel room, and so she took the little bottle from her bag, as well as the notebook containing the sketches, placing them on the table just as Joe returned. He’d brought a bottle of champagne with him, and he leaned over to refill their glasses.
‘Why don’t you tell us all the story?’ he said, sitting beside her and draping an arm over the back of her chair. ‘I think you’re both going to love hearing this.’
‘Yes, Mia, tell us the story,’ his sister said, leaning forward in her seat beside her mother.
She took a hesitant sip of champagne first, before opening the page of Hope’s diary to the drawing she’d spent so many hours studying. For some reason she felt nervous even showing it to them.
‘Are you sure? I don’t want to bore you all, especially at a party.’
‘This party has just becomemuchmore interesting,’ his mother said, her eyes seeming to sparkle as she looked from Mia to her son and back. ‘I can assure you that you’re far from being abore. There’s nothing better than a good mystery, especially one that points to Paris.’
Mia took a deep breath and glanced at Joe, who just nodded as if to encourage her. She hoped she wasn’t taking their pretend romance too far by drawing his family into her story.
‘Well, my great-aunt Hope ran a house for unmarried mothers and their babies in London, but we know very little about her past, and how she came from France to England just before the outbreak of the war,’ Mia said. ‘A few years ago, her house was being pulled down by contractors. She’d left her estate to a charity, and they were kind enough to invite my family to go through the house, in case there were any keepsakes we wanted to take.’
Another couple had come to stand close by, listening to Mia, and she paused as Joe offered them more champagne. His mother leaned farther forward, as if not wanting to miss a word of her story.
‘What did you find?’ his mother asked. ‘What were the clues?’
‘Well, the biggest surprise of all was finding seven little wooden boxes, that were left by women who’d given birth there for the babies they’d left behind. They each had treasures inside, clues to the past that could lead them to their mothers, if they so wished, in the future.’
‘What happened to the boxes?’ his sister asked, as another young blonde woman joined their table. She was so similar in appearance to Joe’s sister that Mia imagined she was another sibling.
