But then, seemingly so close to the brink, Claudette drew herself back and her eyes flew open. ‘So, what have you been up to little sister?’ she said, then gave a sad little laugh and Florence could see that while Rosalie had been holding on to herself, she now could not stop the tears from falling. After a few moments she too rallied and wiped her eyes.
‘Oh, you know, this and that,’ she said.
Claudette’s laugh was unmistakable, and she stretched her arms out to her sister. As they held each other Florenceand Hélène exchanged glances and in that look Florence hoped that her sister might have forgiven her.
When Claudette coughed again, Hélène stepped in. ‘I think Maman has had enough excitement for one day.’
Claudette gave her a pleading look.
‘Ten minutes more, then,’ Hélène said.
‘So bossy,’ Claudette muttered, and Florence smiled to hear the mother they all knew was still inside her.
Rosalie recited a potted version of her life story ending with where she was living now.
‘And you own a palace?’
‘Ridiculous, isn’t it?’
‘Always landed on your feet.’
Then she closed her eyes.
‘Come on,’ Hélène said. ‘We’ll see you tomorrow, Rosalie. I’ll stay with Maman now.’
She saw them to the front door.
Rosalie patted Hélène’s arm and passed her a note. ‘Please call the hotel if there are any changes. That’s the number.’
Florence was about to kiss Hélène on the cheeks, but her sister stiffened as she neared so she drew back.
As the door closed behind them, she spotted Élise putting a brave face on it, holding Victoria in her arms, both blowing kisses and waving from the sitting room window. Florence gulped back a sob. She could never have imagined this. She and her sisters were already devastated by grief and regret for not having realised about Claudette’s illness earlier. For so long Hélène and Élise hadn’t been able to travel to visit her because of the chaos in France,although maybe that had been an excuse. Surely if you knew your mother was dying, you’d find a way? They were all thinking it. And now Claudette was clinging on to the slightest shred of life while at the same time knowing there really was nothing left to hold on to at all.
Each day was bringing its own challenges. Seeing her mother had been the first, saying goodbye to her would be next. And only after that would she and Hélène be able to talk.
Rosalie, meanwhile, looked ashen as the taxi carried them away.
When she could speak, she said, ‘I would really have liked to have stayed longer.’
‘I know. Me too. But Hélène knows what she is doing. At least this way there’s a chance you’ll be able to talk to Maman again tomorrow.’
‘Please let her still be alive tomorrow,’ Florence whispered to herself. ‘Please.’
CHAPTER 53
In bed at the hotel Jack held Florence in his arms while she sobbed. As day bled into night Florence remained awake, her eyes wide open, feeling the grief beginning to build, weighing her down so that her whole body felt heavy. If only she’d known she could have stayed with Claudette back when she first visited in 1944.
‘Try to sleep, sweetheart,’ Jack murmured and pulled her close.
She did sleep eventually but a victim of her own disturb-ing thoughts, she tossed and turned. Images of Hélène came and went. Hélène red-faced, Hélène angry, Hélène shouting. Even more painful, she pictured Claudette alive, laughing, making elderflower champagne, full of vitality.
After an hour or so of fitful sleep, Florence woke early. In the half-light she listened to Jack’s breathing. Then itchanged, grew lighter, and when he woke too, they made love very gently. It seemed important that in the midst of death you had to own the fact that you were alive.
‘You’re thinking of all the times you spent with your mother?’ he asked when it was over, and she lay beside him.
‘How did you know?’
‘I was like that when my grandmother died. I had to revisit every year going further and further back until there was nowhere left to go.’
