Finding You (22 page)

29 - Julia

Oxford Street is packed, crammed with Japanese tourists all delicately avoiding the puddles, but by the time I get up there, the sky is clearing. Like my thoughts.  All the way up here on the train, this morning’s consultation with Pippa Killman has been playing and re-playing through my mind. Now it’s been distilled down to nothing but little jagged snippets—of her concern, of her urgency, and through all of her instructions, silently threaded in among all the words she didn’t say, her dismay about how I seem to be handling the whole situation. I went in this morning willing to be convinced, wanting to at least give her fair hearing for Charlie’s sake, but the only feeling I have come away with is that ... she is wrong.

I feel it. Just like all the garish Mediterranean colours being displayed in every shopfront the length of the street feel wrong. They feel forced, not natural, under this light. They feel imposed. And we’re all meant to go round all summer wearing these wrong colours and pretend they look right when they don’t.

That’s why I have to have this meeting with Lourdes today. Here, too, there might be another truth just waiting to unfold if only I have the guts to stick with what I know. Will she be prepared to tell me anything? A sprinkle of butterflies rise up in my empty stomach. I have no idea. She won’t be expecting me to come asking her anything about Illusion, will she? She’s a little curious, though. I picked up that much. I heard it in her voice this morning as I splashed along the wet pavement to Alys’s home, my phone to my ear, asking for this meeting.

‘I can easily enough drop the papers off at Charlie’s clinic,’ she’d demurred at first. ‘No need for you to come and pick them up, Julia.’       

I’d told her that we needed them urgently, then. That Charlie wasn’t going to be available soon enough and that I’d be in Town anyway. Eventually, if reluctantly, Lourdes had given in.
Is Charlie’s phone not working?
She’d asked me casually right at the end of our conversation.
Has he changed it to a new number?
 I hadn’t asked her why she wondered that. It didn’t take a genius to figure out she must have been trying to contact him. He’s not been returning her calls or picking up, from what she’s implied. From that, at least, I must take heart.

And now, here I am. Waiting at the dark, quiet end of the café which she suggested, sitting on a firm leather seat drinking the water I’ve ordered ahead of her arrival, feeling nervous, trying to figure out how best I should play this.

And now she’s here, twenty minutes late but composed, not in any hurry. I know she spotted me right at the back where she’d asked me to be, as soon as she entered. The barista exchanges some pleasantries with her and she pauses for a bit with him. They know each other, clearly. She pushes her already immaculate hair back behind her ears, and the many silver charms on her bracelet make a tinkling sound, like money. And I can hear my own heart thumping,
feel
it thumping in my chest because in seeing Lourdes again, a host of images have just pushed their way, unwanted, to the front of my mind: Lourdes with Charlie, smiling sweetly, demurely, just like that. Touching his arm. Leaning in close and whispering. The barista’s laugh is deep, appreciative. She’s flirting with him. Not because he matters to her, but because this is what comes most easily to her. Much easier to her than being around other women, I suspect. She’s not a woman’s woman, Lourdes. She looks over at me, very briefly, catching me with the corner of her eye and I wonder, is she as nervous about our meeting as I am?

Maybe she is.

‘Hey,’ she drawls, reaching me at last. I half stand up and we do that embracing each other thing that they all do so enthusiastically in Spain, only she and I are making no pretence of enthusiasm. The barista brings over the two small coffees she’s ordered—she doesn’t mean to stay long—and she delves in her large Gucci bag for the box of papers she’s brought over from Spain. She places them down gingerly on the table. ‘Your documents,’ she says.

‘Thanks, Lourdes. It was very good of you to bring them over for us.’

‘It was
nothing.
’ Her eyes are scanning mine now. They don’t leave my face for a second, and in the uncomfortable silence building up between us, it’s obvious she knows I’m here for more than just the papers. She knows it, but she’s not filling in the gaps with the usual pleasantries, making it any easier for me. I’m going to have to work for this, aren’t I? I’ve psyched myself up for it. All the way here, I’ve been thinking up different ways how I could broach the topic of Illusion, but I was also aware that if I made it too obvious how desperately important this was to me, she might choose not to play ball. Just because.

‘So,’ she prompts after a while. ‘We’re here.’

I clear my throat. ‘Yes. Thank you, once again, for coming.’

She takes a small sip of her coffee, her sage green eyes trained on mine again. ‘Charlie okay? Everyone well?’

I pull a strained smile, feeling now that I’d better give her some reason, if he’s not been answering her calls. ‘He’s great. He’s been ... having a little trouble with his mobile recently,’ I make up. ‘As have I. Hadyn keeps throwing our mobiles down the loo, for some reason.’

Her laughter is low, unexpected.

‘Down the loo?’ she licks the foam off her lips. ‘I expect you will have to keep them hidden from him, then?’

‘Yes,’ I agree rapidly. ‘It’s an odd little quirk. He throws other things down there, as well. Whatever annoys him, in fact.’

‘Oh, dear.’ She laughs quietly. She looks at me thoughtfully now, taking that in. Registering ... what? That maybe Charlie isn’t avoiding her after all? ‘Children are so strange sometimes, aren’t they? They get these things into their heads ...’

‘Yes. And look, I’m really sorry about what happened to Antonio’s cake,’ I bring up now.
I never did reimburse her for that, did I
? ‘That was really awful. What happened there ...’

She waves me away. ‘We’re over it,’ she says with a finality in her voice. Again, I get the impression she doesn’t want to stay here too long. That I’d better crack on with my purpose or she’ll get bored and go.  

‘The truth is,’ I hesitate. ‘I don’t know what gets into Hadyn at times. Ever since we’ve had him back ...’I look at her hesitantly, ‘it’s been
hard,
’ I open up. She looks a little surprised at this admission, maybe wondering,
why am I telling her
? and I swallow. I have to do this, I remind myself, because if I don’t get her on side, she’s not going to be willing to help me with anything.

‘I mean, not knowing anything about the woman who had Hadyn all those months. Just being so ignorant about what went on during that missing time, I guess.’ I raise my cup to my mouth, blowing on the hot coffee, and Lourdes remains silent.

‘I’d really like to learn more about her if I could,’ I bring up.   

‘About Illusion?’ Lourdes looks away from me for a moment, gathering her own thoughts. Is she wondering if this is the real reason I’ve brought her here today or whether it’s merely the preamble to a different intent? She looks back at me.

‘Yes,’ I breathe. ‘I wondered if you’d be willing to help me find out a little about her?’

Her face remains impassive, but I can virtually feel the surprise spreading through her.
That’s it?

‘You offered, when we left your house in Spain,’ I remind her. ‘If we ever needed anything ...’

‘Of course, of course,’ she agrees. ‘I’m just surprised Charlie hasn’t come back to me and asked me about this himself, if there was anything he wanted. That’s all.’ She shifts in her seat now. Am I imagining it, or is there a distinct change in her when she mentions his name? 

‘Ah,’ I give her a sheepish look. ‘This isn’t exactly coming from Charlie.’

‘No?’  How coolly she’s regarding me now that I have admitted I am here off my own bat. Still polite, of course, restrained as her lifetime’s training has taught her to be, and very slightly curious, but not really
interested.
‘He does know you’re here, though?’

‘He knew I was coming to pick up the papers, of course.’ My words slow down now as I consider how much else I should say. ‘Lourdes, Charlie’s not the one who’s interested in Illusion. It’s me who’s asking you. He cares desperately about his child but ... he’s not a mother,’ I reach. ‘He doesn’t see things the way a mum would do.’ Her eyes flicker a little wider now. Have I said too much, implied maybe that there is a split between Charlie and me over this?

‘You have a child too, Lourdes, and we both know, you and I both know that Hadyn might well have come to think of Illusion as his other mama, during the time he was with her.’

Lourdes looks thoughtful for a moment. She spreads her hands now in a
carry on
gesture. ‘I
think
,’ I admit at last, ‘That Hadyn might be missing Illusion.’

‘He might well,’ she agrees. ‘She had him long enough.’

I lean in. ‘So. Do you know anything about this woman, Lourdes? Anything at all that might help me?’

Lourdes laughs now, her finger tracing the rim of her coffee cup. ‘What could I tell you that the family will not already have said? Your theory about his attachment to her is most likely a good one. All the press reports I read say she considered him as a son, looked after your boy well.’

‘You never heard she was ...
odd
or bad in any way, then?’ I press.

‘Bad?’ Lourdes blinks. ‘I never heard she was bad. From Gypsy stock, but you know that. Still. Is this what you wanted to see me about today then, Julia? To ask about Illusion?’ The thought amuses her slightly, I can see that it does. ‘You want to know more about her and Charlie will not tell you?’ She relaxes a little. Sits back in the chair opposite me, and the overhead lights catch the shine on her nail polish, coral pink.

‘I heard she lived in a little village called LaPiedra,’ I rush on, not wanting to lose momentum while she’s still vaguely co-operating. ‘So she didn’t live in town then? Not the place we went to fetch him from?’

‘You thinking of going to visit her, Julia?’ Lourdes smiles. It’s a rhetorical question, I see, meant to imply
who cares where she lives
? Then she leans in suddenly. ‘Listen, your son could be pining for her, it’s true. These things happen. When I had to be away a lot with his father, my own son Antonio got so attached to his first nanny, I used to feel quite jealous of her at times.’ She flicks a small piece of lint off her sleeve now. ‘It’s something you learn to live with though, isn’t it?’ She shrugs. ‘In time, he should become attached to you again.’

‘Are you sure?’ My voice betrays me, how
important
this is to me, and she looks at me with renewed interest .

‘When it comes to love, you can never be sure,’ she notes. ‘Love is fickle, isn’t it?’ She dabs at her mouth with the napkin.
Look at Charlie
, she doesn’t say
. Look at how we have played the game of capturing him and letting him go, you and me, and when it comes to love, you can never be sure
...

‘However, to answer your question,’ she sits back again, ‘yes, I believe Illusion does live in LaPiedra, but I wouldn’t advise that you go looking her up, Julia. Not unless Charlie had suggested that you do so.’

‘No.’ I give a high-pitched laugh. ‘He hasn’t. And of course I wouldn’t do that. I just want information, that’s all. Anything I could learn about her from a third party that might help me understand what he’s gone through. I know your family has been very good to us already ...’ She acknowledges my flattery with a bow of her head.

‘Charlie’s people and mine go back a very long way. Much further back even than him and I.’ She looks sad recalling that. For a moment, she bends her head, echoing my gesture of blowing on the coffee cup. Her neck is slim and elegant, makes her look fragile, and I remember that, even though she has been my rival, she is human, too.

‘I know you two go back a long way, Lourdes,’ I acknowledge.

‘Take this.’ She brings out what looks like a business card. ‘This is the number for a cousin of mine who lives in the outskirts of LaPiedra. She’ll tell you what she can. Just let her know you came from me.’ She closes her handbag with a soft
click
.

‘Thank you so much.’ I feel my heart going again. ‘This is ... more important to me than you know.’

‘To
you
,’ she notes softly. ‘But Charlie does not think so?’

‘Charlie ...’ I sigh, feeling an unexpected comradeship with her because she at least, as a mother, has understood why I need to do this; she’s been willing to help me, and I am grateful. ‘Charlie’s a typical man,’ I blurt out, ‘a typical
doctor
, I should say, in the way he’s seeing our son.’ 

‘But you ... disagree with him?’ She’s smiling softly, nodding in the dim light, woman to woman. ‘Carlos can be stubborn, no?’

‘He sure can be.’ I let out an uneasy laugh. Look away, so she doesn’t see the host of troublesome feelings that are rising to the surface as we talk. ‘I ... actually went to see one of his colleagues this morning. Someone he wants to engage to help Hadyn, but ...’ I shake my head fiercely. ‘I feel very strongly that it’s a route that wouldn’t be any good for our son.’

‘So ... you come to see me?’ she notes.

‘You were the only person I could think of who’d maybe be able to help,’ I blurt out. ‘And you
have
helped. Thank you for easing my mind about Illusion. Everyone’s been so tight-lipped about her, I imagined the worst. I kept thinking, ‘If she did such a good job, then why will nobody speak about her?’’