‘Here, Finn, have a piece of bread to keep you going.’ Caroline proffers the basket of crusty baguette. ‘Et voilà – here is your Orangina. That should keep the hunger at bay until our food arrives.’
Finn sips his drink through a white paper straw, rhythmically swinging his feet below his chair, his attention focused entirely on the boats safely moored in the calm waters of the harbour.
‘Santé!’ Caroline raises her glass. ‘What a joy it is to have Ella’s relations here. It does my heart such good to see you. I trust you have found everything you need at the house?’
‘It’s perfect, thank you, Caroline. I can see why Ella fell so deeply in love with this place. Everything’s just as she described it. Seeing the painting this morning was a real treat too.’
‘I’m very glad you like the picture so much.’ Caroline pauses, taking a sip of her wine. ‘Very glad, indeed. Because, Kendra, it is yours. I have a letter here for you, from your grandmother. That is why she wanted you to come here. Not just to visit the Île de Ré in her memory, but to see your inheritance.’
As if in slow motion, I lower my glass back on to the table. And then I realise that my mouth is hanging open in amazement and shut it quickly. Both Dan and I are staring at Caroline, scarcely able to believe what she’s just announced so casually, whilst Finn, who is oblivious, still swings his jelly sandals beneath his chair, rocking to and fro as he counts the forest of masts in the harbour, softly under his breath.
Caroline reaches into her capacious handbag and pulls out an envelope. ‘Here it is.’ She hands it across to me and my hands tremble as I open it, the sight of Ella’s shaky handwriting making my vision swim.
My dear Kendra,
So you have finally made it to the island, and I hope it has lived up to your expectations. I’m sorry I’m not there with you. But I derive great pleasure from the thought that perhaps it will become a place of magical memories for you and your family as it was for me throughout my life, firstly with Christophe and then with Angus.
As Caroline will have told you, Neptune’s Locket is yours. It’s my way of saying thank you for telling my story. In these, my final days, you have given me back my memories; and in addition you have given me the hope that Rhona will, at last, forgive me. These two gifts are beyond anything I could have asked for: you gave me peace, at the end.
In return, I should like you to have peace in your own life: the peace that comes from having choices; the peace that comes of being financially secure; and, above all, the peace of knowing that your beautiful boy’s future is assured, whatever care and support he may need.
Caroline will help secure a suitable buyer for the painting. She knows exactly what to do, and I believe she already has some of her contacts lined up. I should love to think of it on display in a portrait gallery in London, Paris or Edinburgh – somewhere you can go and visit it from time to time perhaps, but somewhere where it will be accessible to a wider audience too. Christophe’s finest work deserves that.
Use the money to secure the future for you and Dan and Finn. Use it to allow you to live your lives surrounded by the beauty and peace that will be best for your child. It gives me great joy to think of that.
With my love,
Ella
My hand is trembling even more violently as I look up from reading the letter. Dan reaches over to place his hand on top of mine, to steady me with his own solid, reassuring strength that has always been there, even in the hardest times during these past difficult months when I know he’s often felt the bleakness of his own despair.
I grip his hand tightly and look across at our son who is still rocking and counting and sipping his drink.
In the clear summer light that dazzles as it dances on the water, casting sunbeams on to Finn’s face, suddenly I dare to dream of a future stretching ahead of us that is filled with hope and joy instead of darkness and worry. I see a little house in the country, where we can grow vegetables and raise chickens; where Finn can find peace and feel safe; where I can write and Dan can know the dignity of being his own master again.
And I see holidays, when we will travel as a family to a wild, low-lying island moored in a sea of light.
And then I turn to my husband, my eyes brimming with an overwhelming sense of amazement at the miracle of this life.
The everyday miracle that is love.