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“I’m actually thinking of restoring the walled garden.”
Beth’s eyes widened. “No way! That’s such a good idea! It could be so beautiful. I used to love playing hide-and-seek there with my friends, do you remember?”
“Yes,” Gabriel said, smiling at her enthusiasm. “I do.”
“How about you get it ready for when I come back at the end of August?”
Gabriel thought for a moment. “That would give me nearly three months. I could, I suppose.”
“So, do we have a pact, Dad? You make the walled garden beautiful for when I come home—”
“And you promise to come back safe and sound.” Gabriel couldn’t help himself.
“Deal!” Beth looked over the top of her screen and mouthed something silent. “Dad,” she said, turning her attention back to him. “I’m sorry, I need to run. Rosa is threatening to leave without me.”
“No, I wouldn’t do that, Mr. Pelley!” Rosa’s lilting Italian accent filled the room.
“It’s fine,” Gabriel said, smiling. “We’ll speak again soon. Have fun.”
Beth’s hand stretched toward her screen, searching for the off button.
“Thanks, Dad, love you.”
“Love you too.” But she had already gone.
He sat back, the smile still on his face. Beth was always able to lift his spirits, just by being, and in that moment, he understood whyPierre wanted to be part of his daughter’s life after missing out for so many years. He couldn’t imagine what it must have been like for Pierre to come face-to-face with his daughter in the street—if that was what had happened. He was still unconvinced. What were the chances of Pierre bumping into, on a random street in Paris, a woman he had slept with once? And then, deciding that the child with the woman was his, despite the mother telling him that she wasn’t? How could Pierre have been so sure, from that one meeting, that the mother was lying, that he’d taken a hair from the child to do a DNA test? And why would the mother agree to go for a coffee with Pierre for old times’ sake if she had something to hide? Nothing made sense.
There was a part of Gabriel that wanted to warn Pierre what the next years would be like, if he did become involved in his daughter’s life, about the thousand deaths he’d die along the way. It was only when Beth had left for Greece last summer that Gabriel realized how cushioned he’d been from the visceral anguish of parenting while she’d been away at boarding school, safe in the care of her teachers. Remembering that he needed to phone Pierre, he located Pierre’s number, then resumed his pacing while he waited for his friend to pick up. But it went straight to voicemail and, caught unaware, Gabriel paused.
“Pierre, it’s me, Gabe. Give me a call. I’m here for you.”
And with that unsatisfactory message, he hung up.
8
“What would you do, if you were in my position?” Laure asked, not for the first time.
“I don’t know,” Iris said, also not for the first time.
From the other side of the table, she heard Gabriel supress a sigh. For the last three days, every conversation had been about Pierre.
“I suppose it depends whether Pierre is serious about wanting a relationship with his daughter,” Gabriel said, stepping into the silence.
“He said that he did.”
“But her mother might not want him to be involved in her daughter’s life. Does she know that Pierre knows he’s the father? If he is,” he added.
Laure frowned. “So you don’t believe that he is?”
“As I’ve already said,” Gabriel said gently, reminding Laure that they’d had this conversation the previous night, and the one before that. “I think there’s room for doubt.”
“But he did a DNA test.”
“Did he though? I know he told you that he did, but secretly taking a hair from a child’s head doesn’t strike me as something that Pierre would do.”
Laure reached for her glass. “So does having a one-night stand strike you as something he would do?”
“Well—no.”
