The Saffron Gate (32 page)

^{As we turned north-west, the
calèche
driver brandished his whip above his head in twisting arabesques, snapping the thin leather back and forth over the backs of the two horses pulling the
calèche
, but never touching them.}

^{I watched the twirling smoke of Mr Russell's cigar and the curl of the whip over our heads as they intersected in the blue sky.}

^{Most striking about Le Jardin Majorelle was the sensation of shade and filtered sunlight, and the colour of many of the arches and huge terracotta vessels containing plants. They were painted green and yellow and blue. The blue was a vivid and almost electric colour. I tried to find a name for it: perhaps cobalt, perhaps a shade of azurite or lapis lazuli, maybe Prussian or cerulean. But nothing was exactly right. This blue seemed to have its own distinct properties.}

^{And the colours of the garden matched Marrakesh's brilliant hues.}

^{Almost immediately Mr Russell introduced me to a man in a white panama hat — it was Monsieur Majorelle — and he welcomed us graciously. 'I'm happy to show my vision to visitors,' he said in French. Mr Russell could speak a little French, and he translated for Mrs Russell. Monsieur Majorelle led us down a shady path of beaten red earth. Other paths crossed it. Sunlight dappling through the tall, swaying foliage created a rhythmic pattern on our faces. There were a number of young Moroccan men, dressed in white, digging and planting.}

^{'The garden is my expression; for me it has a mystical force. I'm attempting to create a design — one I see here,' said Monsieur Majorelle, tapping his temple, 'with vegetal shapes and forms. I have a love of plants,' he finished.}

^{It was clear that the design of the garden had a certain composition and placement of colour in both its structures and its plant life that immediately brought to mind a painting. I looked at the shallow tiled pool nearest; carp and goldfish wove through the clear water, turned aquamarine by the tiles. I recognised water lilies and lotus, but there were other aquatic plants unfamiliar to me. 'What is that, Monsieur Majorelle?' I asked, pointing to tall stalks topped with a large, tassel-like head.}

^{'Papyrus,' he said. 'I wish to bring in forms representing the continents that sustain life. Please. Enjoy yourselves. Stroll about.'}

^{We said goodbye. Mr Russell wanted to shoot photographs with the Brownie camera he wore around his neck.}

^{'I'll go off on my own,' I told him and Mrs Russell. 'I'd love to explore some of the plantings.'}

^{We parted, agreeing to meet back at the entrance in an hour. I wandered down the pleasant paths, touching the profusion of vermilion bougainvillea twining over trellises. I passed the men in white, the thudding and scraping of their shovels in the red earth a solid, heavy sound in comparison to the high and glorious bird calls from above.}

^{Although the garden was beautiful, it hadn't lifted my despondency. There were few other people, apart from the Arab workers, but I noticed a frail, very elderly woman sitting on a bench under a banana tree. She held a tiny dog with feathery gold fur, a stiff pink bow around its fluffy neck. The old woman stroked the dog with gnarled fingers, each one decorated with a ring bearing a different gem. I thought of Cinnabar, and the soothing feel of her fur.}

^{The shaded bench was inviting.
'Bonjour,
madame,' I said. 'Your dog is very sweet. May I pet her?'}

^{'Bonjour,'
she answered in delicate French, her voice tremulous with age as she peered up at me. 'Do I know you? My eyes . . . I don't see well any longer.'}

^{'No, madame. You don't know me. I'm Mademoiselle O'Shea,' I said, sitting beside her.}

^{'l am Madame Odette. This is Loulou,' she added, and the little dog looked up at her, its mouth slightly open, its pink tongue curled up on the end, vibrating as it panted in the heat.}

^{'Are you enjoying the gardens?' I asked.}

^{She smiled, almost merrily. 'Oh yes, my dear. I come every day. My son brings me after our noon meal, and picks me up at five. Is it nearly five?'}

^{'I believe so, madame. Do you live nearby?' I reached towards Loulou, but one corner of her tiny lip lifted in warning, and I withdrew my hand.}

^{'Yes. I have lived in Marrakesh for a number of years. Now I stay with my son and daughter-in-law. My husband was in the Foreign Legion, you know. He died many years ago.'}

^{She stopped, looking into the distance. Loulou yawned, shifting, in the old woman's lap.}

^{Madame Odette refocused on me. 'But she is unpleasant, my daughter-in-law. Every day some difficulty. I grow weary, listening to her tell my son what to do, and complain about this and that. So I come here, and enjoy the garden.' She looked towards a stand of bamboo. 'My son brings me here,' she repeated. 'Nobody bothers me, and I do not have to hear my daughter-in-law's voice. Loulou and I spend many hours amidst the trees and flowers.'}

^{I nodded, leaning down to pick up a fallen bougainvillea blossom and looking into its deep red centre.}

^{'And you, mademoiselle? You live in Marrakesh as well?' Madame Odette asked.}

^{I looked up, shaking my head. 'No.'}

^{'You're visiting family?'}

^{I touched the velvet of the bloom to my chin.'I'm here to find someone, but . . .' I again reached towards Loulou.}

^{This, time she allowed me to stroke one ear. I moved my hand to her back. 'It's proving very difficult, I'm afraid.'}

^{'I have lived in Marrakesh many years,' she repeated. 'The heat of Africa is good for my bones, although my daughter-in-law's chill is not good for my heart. But I have known many French families. My husband was in the Foreign Legion. Very handsome in his uniform.'}

^{She was watching my fingers running up and down the little dog's back. 'What day is it?' she asked, suddenly looking at me.}

^{'It's Tuesday,' I said.}

^{'Will it rain tomorrow?' Her eyes were milky blue, clouded with cataracts.}

^{I shook my head. 'I don't believe so, madame. It's summer. There is little rain, in summer in Marrakesh. Isn't this so?'}

^{'I have lived here many years. I am old,' she said. 'I forget.'}

^{I patted Loulou's head and then stood. 'I'm sure your son will come for you soon, Madame Odette.'}

^{'What time is it?'}

^{'Almost five,' I told her again.}

^{'He comes at five. He will come here, for me. Wait under the banana tree, Maman, he tells me. I always wait for him.'}

^{'All right, then. Goodbye, madame. And Loulou,' I added, touching the dog's silky ear a final time. She twitched, annoyed, as if a fly had lit on it.}

^{'Who is it you seek, mademoiselle?' Madame Odette asked then, looking up at me. Her face was shadowed by the leaves.}

^{'The Duvergers, madame,' I said, without expecting her to answer logically.}

^{'Marcel and Adelaide?' she said, unexpectedly, and I opened my mouth, then closed it and sat down beside her again.}

^{'Yes, yes, Madame Odette. The family of Marcel Duverger. You knew them?' I said, still refusing to grow hopeful.}

^{She nodded. 'Marcel and Adelaide, oh yes. And the son . . . I remember some tragedy. I remember the past, mademoiselle. I remember past days, but often not this day. They had a son. It was a tragedy,' she repeated. 'I have a son.'}

^{'Guillaume was their son. Yes, he drowned.'}

^{She studied me, her head on one side, her eyes suddenly more alive, even though the irises were ghostly because of her cataracts. 'And there was an older one.'}

^{'Etienne. You know Etienne?' My voice was quick, loud now.}

^{'I remember something about him. Clever young man. He went off to Paris.'}

^{'Yes, yes, that's him, Madame Odette. Have . . . have you seen him? Recently?'}

^{She stroked the dog's chest. 'No. But I don't go out, except to come here. My son doesn't allow me to go out now,' she said. 'I am old. I forget things,' she repeated, shaking her head.' They died some years ago. First Adelaide, and then poor Marcel. There are no longer any Duvergers in La Ville Nouvelle. He was a doctor.'}

^{'Yes. Yes, Etienne is a doctor,' I said, nodding, encouraging her.}

^{'No. Marcel. Many of the doctors worked for the intelligence service,' she said. 'Once we took over Morocco, the French medical doctors proved especially effective as agents of imperial penetration of Morocco,' she said, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper, as though enemy ears hid in the trees and bushes around us. 'My husband told me many tales of the espionage. Oh yes,' she said, 'they were not always just doctors.'}

^{I sat back; I had been leaning so close I had smelled both the odour of her dentures and a powdery lilac fragrance, although I couldn't be certain whether it arose from her bodice or the dog in her lap. Disappointment flooded through me, and I closed my eyes for a moment. I didn't care about what Etienne's father had or hadn't done decades earlier.}

^{'The person you search for, my dear,' she said, and I opened my eyes.}

^'Yes?'

^{'It is a man or a woman?'}

^{'A man. It's Etienne Duverger I'm trying to find.'}

^{'And he is willing to be found?'}

^{I let her words sink
in for a moment.
'Willing?'}

^{The old woman smiled, a strange smile. 'Sometimes . . . well, if one can't be found, it is because one is hiding. My husband told me many stories of those unwilling to be found.'}

^{I knew I had refused to think of this, although I had, since arriving, held this very thought like a tiny, hard knot at the back of my mind: that Etienne was indeed in Marrakesh, and had seen me, but had not approached me because he was, as Madame Odette had just said, unwilling to be found.}

^{'Madame Odette,' I said then, not wanting to think about Etienne hiding from me. 'What of the daughter? She's gone as well?'}

^{Now Madame Odette frowned. 'Daughter?'}

^{'Manon. Manon Duverger,' I said, but the old woman shook her head.}

^{'I don't recall a daughter.'}

^{'She may have a married name now.'}

^{'And her name is Marie?'}

^'Manon.'

^{Madame Odette nodded. 'I know a Manon Albemarle,' she said, and my mouth opened and I leaned in again, nodding. 'She's quite young. Perhaps fifty-five. My son's age.'}