Beyond the Green Hills Read Free Page B

eyesalmost level with the small undulations in the pleated skirt that marked the position of The Missus’s knees. Not having been invited to sit down, Andrew stood waiting awkwardly.
    ‘I’ve ordered tea for four thirty. Perhaps, Andrew, you would help Mrs Wiley with the trays. I know you always like to chat to her. And I shall have a word with Clare.’
    It was not yet four o’clock. Andrew departed without a word. Whether he felt relieved at having been dismissed, or angry that his grandmother had managed to avoid greeting him, in any way, Clare would have to find out later.
    ‘Eh bien, Clare, I hear you have been in Paris. Did your studies go well?’
    The voice was quite firm, its intentions clear. Perhaps it was to be an interview after all. Clare looked up at the haggard face. There were creases of pale eye shadow on the drooping lids and carefully pencilled eyebrows above the large, over-bright eyes. They watched her closely, waiting.
    ‘I didn’t go to study. Not directly. But I did learn a great deal. My professor found me a family in Paris who wanted an au pair. Actually, I spent more time in Deauville than in Paris.’
    A smile of pleasure, of longing almost, lit up the old woman’s face, filling it with an animation Clare had never seen before.
    ‘Deauville! Oh, que j’aime Deauville.’
    Clare was more taken aback by the softness of her tone than by the sudden move to French. She’d heard her speak the language before, but this wasnot how it sounded when she’d reprimanded Andrew for speaking to a servant.
    Madeline Richardson asked a stream of questions without pausing for any reply: questions about places, particular buildings, a hotel where she’d once stayed, a small café where they’d had second breakfast after swimming. At last, she paused and looked at Clare expectantly.
    ‘Bien sur, Deauville est très agréable,’ she began. ‘My friend, Marie-Claude, used to go there as a child. She still visits the old woman who looked after her in those days. She says Deauville has changed remarkably little. Many of the places you’ve mentioned, I recognise at once. Some of the hotels have changed their names, but Marie-Claude says they haven’t changed their style. And people still promenade.’
    The old woman pressed her hands together and cast her eyes towards the ceiling.
    ‘Oh, so. We had such fun in Deauville. Of course, we were chaperoned, but there were ways of communicating with young men that everyone knew. If a young man wished to meet you, he would find out where you were staying and send you a bouquet. There were always two cards with a bouquet, one that you handed to your chaperone with some suitable message and another concealed in the flowers. That one you read later.’
    She paused and looked at Clare meaningfully, as if to make sure she understood. When Clare smiled broadly, she continued.
    ‘My cousin and I were taken to the Royal Hotelby my great-aunt. She was a very strict lady, but even she was charmed when we came back from a morning walk and found the room full of flowers.’
    She paused, considered, and then went on.
    ‘My cousin was very beautiful, you see. She also had the advantage of being rich.’
    She smiled at Clare, confident she would appreciate the point.
    ‘I was never beautiful, but I was thought handsome by some. We both had our little adventures in Deauville.’
    She paused once more, longer this time, as if she were still absorbed in the world she had known in another century, when she was young and her life opened before her, full of possibility and promise.
    ‘And will you go again this year, to Deauville, with your French family?’
    ‘No, I’m staying in Belfast this summer. I have a holiday job working at the gallery with my friend Jessie and her husband. His father has retired now and he’s expanding into new areas. It’s really very interesting.’
    ‘Ah, I see.’
    Clare was not sure what it was she saw, but her next question made it