‘I do not have social media,’ he reminded. ‘But I know a lot of people. Tell me what you know.’
Think, Orla, think. ‘He has brown hair… I think… not dark brown, not light brown. He wears Lacoste underwear.’
‘Does he have a car?’
‘I don’t know. Wait, his dad has… an old Mercedes.’
‘Job?’
‘Him or his dad?’
‘Both.’
‘I actually don’t know.’ She sighed, racking her brain. ‘He lives in Albania. He goes to the gym. He wants to be a boxer. He likes avocado. Argh! Why is all that so important to Erin and so no help in helping us?’
‘It’s OK,’ Jacques said, reassuringly. ‘We will find her.’
‘Chocolat chaud.’
Delphine was pressing it into Orla’s hands before she even really knew it. The café/supermarket was a hive of activity now with Jacques in the centre of everything dividing up sectors on maps and briefing everyone as to what Erin looked like and what colour her coat was. It felt suddenly real. Her sister was missing. Yes, it hadn’t been that long but as every minute ticked by Orla was becoming more and more concerned. And she knew this was her fault. She hadn’t listened long or hard enough, hadn’t paid attention to the details, the depth of Erin’s feelings for Burim. Because she’d made assumptions about the ‘situationship’ based on her own experience of them. An experience she was starting to realise that she had driven into non-existence.
‘Orla, you must drink this,’ Delphine insisted, taking Orla’s fingers and wrapping them around the mug.
As divine as the hot chocolate smelled and as much as she was shivering from both the cold and nervous fear, she knew she couldn’t stomach it. But she looked up at Delphine and gripped the mug as instructed.
‘She will be just fine,’ Delphine said, pulling a chair out and guiding Orla down into it.
‘I can’t sit,’ she said, catching herself hovering above the seat.
‘Youmustsit,’ Delphine ordered. ‘Because when that girl gets back here she will need you to stand to straighten her hair or check that her skirt is not higher than her underwear.’
‘But I can’t rest and drink chocolate when there are people over there,strangers, preparing to do their utmost to find my sister.’
‘S’il te plaît. For only a moment. Jacques has it under control. And these people are not strangers. When you come to Saint-Chambéry a part of you belongs to Saint-Chambéry.’ Delphine smiled. ‘And the village looks after its own. That is how I know that Erin will be just fine. She is going to be the Queen of theBrouettethis year.’
Orla swallowed. ‘But, Delphine, you know we have to leave soon.’
The woman sat down too and waved a dismissive hand. ‘Did I not just say that the village looks after its own? Perhaps this is a reason that you have not been able to get on a flight already or that Erin has gone to find her love.’
Love. Erin couldn’t be in love. They hadn’t even met. But, right at this moment, Orla didn’t care about anything except making sure her sister was safe.
‘You know,’ Delphine said. ‘Don’t you?’
Orla didn’t know how to respond. Was she talking about her illness? Noble being male? Jacques struggling with the fall-out from his job? Saint-Chambéry might look after its own butit certainly also held many secrets. She stayed quiet, hoped Delphine would elaborate.
‘Jacques told you, about my cancer.’
‘Well, I?—’
Delphine sighed, letting go of an uneasy breath and reaching for a trail of tinsel on the back of a chair, running it through her fingers. ‘I knew he would. If he felt about you the way I believe he does.’
‘It isn’t like that,’ Orla defended. ‘I made him tell me. Erin actually?—’
Delphine waved a hand again. ‘It does not matter. Everyone will know soon enough. But you are wrong, you know, aboutitnot being like that. I see how Jacques is with you. How you are together. It is that relationship that everyone seeks but is so very rare.’
Orla swallowed and her eyes went back to Jacques. He was next to one of the large Christmas trees, writing things down on pieces of paper he was handing out, pointing towards the exit door, his expression deep seriousness.
‘You are alike, but you are also different. You are both independent creatures. But, for both of you, this is a form of protection. Him because it has been built into his nature by his job and the horrors he has seen there. For you because you have been let down when you have been vulnerable and you refuse to acknowledge your sadness so you spend time trying to mend other people’s.’
