Chapter 22: Twenty-Two - The Idea of You

Two years later

It was a warm, sunny afternoon in Queen’s Park as Lucy walked slowly to the end of the garden to retrieve Hector’s ball. Her long ponytail hung down over the shoulder of her smocked white shirt as she crouched down into the shrubs and dug around with her hands to find the ball.

‘I mean it, Hector. This is absolutely the last time I am fetching this for you!’ Her threat was a little diluted by the big smile that accompanied it.

Hector clapped and ran in a circle, holding in one hand the little brown woollen rabbit Lucy had knitted him, while he chased after his cousin Maisie. He knew full well that he only had to shout ‘Bibbit, get it!’ and off Lucy would trot. No one knew where the name ‘Bibbit’ had come from, but it had stuck.

Lucy and the little boy shared a wonderful relationship, where Hector made demands and Lucy did his bidding. She adored him and relished every second of the times she got to spend with him, which weren’t nearly as frequent as she would like, not with Camille now living with her best friend, Alice, in Poitiers.

Their little flat was quaint. It was a stone’s throw from the Place du Maréchal-Leclerc, a bustle of activity among the beautiful historic buildings. Camille and Hector shared a room and Alice lived in the second. Both girls worked their shifts at the busy Café Populaire. Camille’s were timed around Hector’s childcare, and Jean-Luc and Geneviève stepped in when needed to care for their grandson on their sprawling farm.

Lucy and Jonah had enjoyed some wonderful trips to the region, most notably in the summer months when they took their grandson to paddle on the shallow banks of the Clain, picnicking by a bend in the river while Camille regaled them with her plans to go back to college when Hector started school; her love of fashion hadn’t waned. They were both so very proud of her independence. She lived mainly off her wages and managed to keep her head above water, just. Lucy and Jonah happily made sure that Hector had all that he needed – a little bike, new shoes, anything that would lift the financial burden from Camille while at the same time giving them the huge joy of purchasing things for the boy they loved.

‘We all know you don’t mean it! That child only has to shout and you jump. He has you wrapped around his finger!’ Fay called out, clinking her beer bottle against Jonah’s wine glass as they ribbed her from the terrace. Lucy smiled broadly at her sister.

‘Yes, but Hector doesn’t know that!’ she replied, laughing.

‘Err, I think he does actually!’ Camille chuckled from the table where she sat next to Geneviève and Jean-Luc, who had travelled over with their daughter.

‘What is this, pick on Lucy day? Give me a break.’ She giggled, making her way back towards the house.

She looked up, still bowled over by their home’s grand makeover, funded by the sale of the flat, a gesture that proved she no longer had need of a fallback. The extra floor and the wide open-plan kitchen that led out to the terrace made the house spacious, easier to live in and certainly a whole lot fancier to entertain in. It looked stunning, and she had decided a while ago never to confess to Jonah that, while the house was indeed grander and more streamlined, she kind of missed the dark, cobwebby corners of the narrow corridors that had added so much character.

Camille fetched the jug of iced tea from the kitchen and wandered down the steps of the terrace with Rory by her side, his preferred place to be. ‘Who wants some iced tea?’ she called out, clearly as at home here as she had ever been.

‘Oh yes, please!’ Lucy smiled, giving Hector back his ball before going to stand next to her beautiful stepdaughter. Lucy felt nothing but admiration for the way the girl handled her situation, showing maturity beyond her years.

Dex remained a key figure in their lives. He clearly loved Hector, and they were at present planning his next visit when he was back from New York for a spell. Camille felt nothing but affection towards the boy who now called America home as he chased his dream of success in the land of opportunity. Lucy had on one occasion suggested that Camille might like to rekindle her romance with him; to this, Camille had confessed that she could no longer envisage a romance with him, showing a level of understanding Lucy respected. Dex had been just a boy, a year older than Camille. A good-looking boy she had loved. Well, as far as you can love someone when you are sixteen and think that the world can be like a movie.

‘What about in the future?’ Lucy had pushed. ‘Do you think you and Dex might make a go of it?’

Camille had smiled, slowly. ‘The thing is, Bibbit, I’ve been taught never to settle for anything other than what is perfect for me, to always put my needs high on the list, and to know my worth, and I don’t know if Dex fits that equation. Okay?’

‘Okay.’ Lucy smiled.

* * *

Lucy had, after much soul-searching, written to Scott. Tracking him down with ease, she gave him all the information she had about Bella. It was now up to him as to whether he made contact. She hadn’t yet received a reply.

It seemed to her that Camille had a good grasp of things that had taken Lucy years to figure out. She still thought of Bella, of course, but was no longer haunted by the idea of the baby she had given away. Receiving her letter had been poignant. ‘My mum thought you would always carry me with you. Throughout my life, this idea has given me a really nice feeling . . .’ Even just recalling these words made her smile and brought her peace.

‘Iced tea for you, Maman?’ Camille raised the jug, calling to Geneviève and pulling Lucy from her thoughts.

‘Might as well. I need to drink something!’ The woman smiled at Jean-Luc, who squeezed her hand, clearly liking his newly teetotal wife. The two were slowly reconnecting with Camille, and having Hector around had undoubtedly helped with this. It made Lucy happy to see the support network that her stepdaughter enjoyed, knowing that you could never have too many people looking out for you.

‘Actually, Cam, there’s something I wanted to show you, upstairs.’ She took her stepdaughter’s hand into her own and guided her through the now spacious house, where oversized vases stuffed with glorious blooms filled the rooms and the new neutral colour scheme on the walls was indeed sophisticated and yet cool.

They trod the stairs and walked into Lucy and Jonah’s bedroom. Camille sat on the bed and giggled. ‘This is all very mysterious.’

‘I wanted to give you this.’ Lucy reached up and lifted the nearly empty wicker basket from the top of the wardrobe.

‘What? Not your wicker hamper! That’s your most precious thing!’ Camille sat back and watched as her stepmother opened the lid of the box with its irritating creak and pulled out the envelope and the little pink sock.

‘I’ll keep these,’ Lucy whispered.

‘How many kisses are in there now?’ Camille asked, quietly.

‘Twenty-six,’ she replied, before touching the sock to her cheek and then placing the two items in her bedside drawer. ‘I want you to have it, use it to store your special things, keep them safe. Letters, memories, whatever – this box is a good keeper of secrets.’

‘Do you think’ – the girl paused – ‘do you think I’m doing okay?’ She looked up, biting her bottom lip.

‘Oh, Cam, you are doing more than okay. You are incredible. Just look at Hector – he is so happy and that is down to you, that’s all that matters!’ she enthused.

‘Thanks, Bibbit.’ Camille smiled. ‘I really don’t know how I would have coped without you.’

Lucy batted away the compliment.

‘Yes,’ Cam insisted, ‘I have you to thank for everything. I thought you would blow my family apart and instead, look at us, all sat on the terrace drinking iced tea, while my son plays on the grass with his cousins. You did the opposite; you brought us all together.’

Lucy felt the emotion rise in her throat. ‘I am very proud of you, Camille. I admire you,’ she confessed. ‘And I love you.’ The words now tripped easily from her mouth.

‘I love you too. Thank you for the hamper. I shall treasure it.’ Camille ran her fingers over the creaky wicker lid. ‘I was going to ask you . . .’ She hesitated.

‘What?’ Lucy prompted. ‘You can ask me anything.’

‘Do you think you might teach me how to knit?’

Lucy heard her gran’s words loud and clear in her head, as if she was standing next to her. ‘Something magical happens, Lucy, just by adding more loops, and with more twists of the needle you can make all kinds of wondrous things! Like scarves for people you love, and most important – baby clothes.’

‘I’d be honoured to.’ She swatted the tears that cascaded down her face.

Jan popped her head around the door.

‘Well, my darlings, here you are.’ She spoke quietly and gave a small nod. ‘What are you two plotting?’

‘Nothing.’ Lucy sniffed. ‘We were just talking about knitting.’

And for some reason, this struck the three of them as very funny, and they chuckled.

‘People are asking after you. I think everyone’s getting a bit peckish. I told them that if they were all really lucky, you might rustle up some of those chicken Kiev ice lollies that you make so well.’

‘Very funny!’ She pulled a face at her mum. ‘Come on. Let’s get back to the party.’ Lucy reached out and took Camille’s hand and the two walked slowly down the stairs behind Jan.

Jonah was in the kitchen, putting on his apron and preparing to impress their guests. ‘I don’t know about anyone else, but I think it’s about time we cracked open that champagne!’ he boomed. A ripple of laughter spread among them. He greeted his wife with a smile. Jan and Camille ambled on to the terrace, where the family happily sipped their drinks, laughing. Fay and Geneviève were deep in conversation about shopping. Camille winked at Lucy as she sat down between her parents across from Rory. This was quite some occasion.

Jonah placed his arm around his wife’s shoulders. ‘What are you thinking about, Bibbit? You look lost in thought.’

‘I was just thinking how happy I am, and how very lucky.’ She smiled.

The duo stood in front of the kitchen cupboards, their doors covered in things that Hector, Maisie and Rory had made. Her grandson’s little handprints were smeared across a page in red and blue paint, and there was a colourful Christmas picture with sparkles and glitter all over it. Rory had drawn them a rocket, and Maisie had gifted them a collage – it was a riot of colour with pom-poms and bits of macaroni stuck randomly on.

Lucy looked up at the pictures, these glorious creations that would turn any house into a home, a home with a love of children at its heart. And that was most certainly the home she wanted to live in.

‘Bibbit!’ Hector called from the lawn.

‘Yes, come on, Bibbit! You are needed out here! That ball isn’t going to fetch itself,’ Camille yelled.

Lucy and Jonah moved to the wide patio doors and gazed out over the garden at their family.

‘Would I do, Hector?’ Jan asked hopefully. ‘Can Great-Granny fetch it for you?’

‘No!’ Hector stamped his foot. ‘Bibbit!’

Jonah laughed loudly. ‘Oh boy, he takes after his mum. Stubborn and wilful!’

Camille tutted, as Geneviève rolled her eyes. ‘C’est vrai.’ She nodded, smiling at her ex-husband. ‘C’est vrai.’

Jonah looked at his wife and bent close to her face. ‘I don’t think I have ever been prouder or loved you more than I do right now, Mrs Carpenter.’

‘The feeling is entirely mutual.’ She laughed.

‘Bibbit!’ Hector’s call drew her attention.

‘I think you are needed.’ Jonah kissed her nose.

‘On my way!’ she called.

Lucy made her way out into the garden with a spring in her step. She was indeed very lucky. She really did have it all.