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“Three hundred years ago, before my family took on the seigneury of La Canette, the island belonged to the Montagues. Distant cousins of my family.”
This rings a vague bell for me, but Elodie shakes her head. It makes her hair swing around her shoulder, catching the light.
“The houses on Catcher Lane used to be one mansion. There’s a rather sad story there if you want to look it up. A local tragedy that culminated in the eighteenth century with the death of James Montague, the last Montague seigneur. He had no surviving sons, so his mansion was divided into separate houses which became your own Labri Catch,” he tells Elodie. “And Low Catch.” His glances at me.
“He left two daughters, and those two houses were given to them. The eldest girl married an impoverished third son of an aristocrat, a Sir John Hemingway.” Again, George’s eyes meet mine with a warm smile. “The other daughter married a merchant.”
“Let me guess, LeFevre,” Elodie says, laughter dancing in her brown eyes.
“Exactly.”
“So, we’re distant cousins.” She says on a slow smile. “This place is full of surprises.”
Before I can help myself, I say, “I suppose if one goes back three hundred years, everyone must be everyone else’s cousin. Maybe even Vladimir Putin is our cousin.”
Both she and George snort with laughter.
Just then, my phone vibrates in my pocket with a text. My mother checking on me, sounding very anxious.
HAL: Don’t worry, I’m fine. And I have good news. There’s a chance we can sell quickly. Are you happy for me to proceed?
I can hear George asking Elodie about her family. “I was sorry to hear your grandfather had an accident.”
Her grandfather… that must be Hedge LeFevre. He’s still alive? It seems monumentally unfair that my own father has died while Hedge is still alive. Even two decades ago he seemed ancient. He once found me collecting blackberries from the bushes that grow below our gardens and threatened me with a stick. The next day, he accosted my mother in the village and told her to stop her children from playing down the hill. It takes a special kind of man to intimidate a small boy. Nice man, Hedge.
Elodie’s eyes are full of affection when she talks about him, but I imagine he didn’t threaten his own granddaughter with a stick. Nor did he slander her family and ruin them, so she has no reason to hate him. My mood has curdled, so I keep my eyes on my phone for an excuse not to join in their conversation.
“Yes, he has a fractured vertebra. C2.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t know what that means?” George asks.
Elodie reaches to the back of her neck to lift the hair out of the way as if she’s about to unzip her clothes. Her fingers touch a point just below the hairline. “It’s the second vertebrae from the top.
My phone vibrates in my hand again.
MUM: Yes, please sell. Haneen and I already signed a Power of Attorney. So, you can do whatever you think is best.
HAL : Good.
MUM: The sooner we’re done with La Canette the better, don’t delay waiting for a better price. My share can go to Haneen.
A fist tightens around my heart. This is the first sign she thinks my sister might need help.
Elodie’s voice breaks into my thoughts.
“My grandfather says he’s been approached by someone wanting to buy the cottage and garden.”
“Does he want to sell?” George asks, clearly surprised.
“Not at all, but they keep coming over to talk to him. They go around the house measuring the space and leaving him paperwork to read. I think he’s been too sick to get rid of them.”
I look up past her to the two men schmoozing around the room. Some property developers are one step away from vultures. I know, I’ve watched my colleagues use all kinds of tricks. Hedge might not be my favourite person, but harassing a sick old man is a sign of desperation. It doesn’t improve my view of the two men.
Then I notice George looking at them too. He has the deliberately blank face that gives nothing away, but behind the professional mask, George is the boy I used to know really well. There is anger and disgust in his eyes; he hides it well, but it’s definitely there.
Elodie glances at me, about to speak. It’s not easy to be rude to her, it takes a lot of energy to remind myself who she is, who her family are.
“Excuse me,” I say, and she instinctively steps aside to let me pass.
