The Switch

17:00

  ‘Lily, my lovely Lily! Everything’s OK isn’t it? They said you’d fainted. You never faint. Everything is OK?’

  ‘Mum!’

  Lily finds the energy to rush into an embrace, exhaustion choking up her voice.

  ‘Ssssshhh Darling, I’m here now.’

  Sitting on the mosaic-floored terrace at the Mini Palais restaurant, her mum stirs in a lump of Demerara sugar. It froths in her coffee. ‘Nightmare,’ she says. ‘Your father’s staying at home for the twins. But he’s happy with it. They don’t cause much trouble.’ Her face says otherwise. She takes Lily’s hand and publicly pours out all her care. Lily tussles with her urge to dispel the attention. God, she was nearly fifteen.

  ‘Mum, I’m OK. Really.’

  ‘It’s not that I wasn’t worried,’ her mum says. ‘You know I’m keen for you to grab opportunities . . .’

  Lily twists her head. She watches a man setting out a selection of patisseries. ‘It could have happened to anyone,’ she says.

  ‘I mean has anyone accepted responsibility for the danger?’

  ‘Yes. Me,’ Lily says, snapping to attention.

  ‘I thought I’d put you in the safest hands possible, with Monsieur and Madame Briac in the police force. Lily, I’m not convinced I’m getting through. Am I? We certainly did our best to watch over Pascale when she came to England. Goodness knows it’s a hard enough thing to entertain someone for a week.’ Lily’s mum pushes her shoulders back, trying to exude indignation.

  ‘It’s unfortunate,’ Lily says. ‘No one plans these things.’

  They don’t talk as they eat. Lily dips the edge of her filou pastry into the last of her coffee.

  ‘Anyway,’ her mum says eventually, sinking her body frame and adjusting her multiple bracelets. ‘How is the Briac family coping?’

  ‘Well enough, I think.’

  ‘I hope they catch hold of whoever’s behind the attack on Pascale’s brother. What’s his name?’

  ‘Thierry.’

  ‘Yes, and soon, for everyone’s sake.’

  ‘It’s ongoing,’ Lily says. ‘The investigation. I don’t think I’ll be able to leave straight away. Is that what you mean? Were you thinking we could go right now?’

  ‘I don’t know what I’m thinking,’ her mum replies. ‘There’s a lot going on.’

  Lily holds a hand to her mouth. Her yawn stretches her jaw so wide it hurts.’

  ‘I have a hotel room, if it’s any help,’ her mum says. ‘Twin beds. Nice bathroom and telly. Seemed a bit noisy, right on the road.’

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ Lily counters.

  ‘I hoped I could take you out to dinner this evening.’

  ‘I don’t know. You’ll have to ask Madame Briac, and Madame Morneau too.’

  ‘All being well, I can take you home tomorrow.’

  ‘I’m not sure.’

  ‘You’ve had enough.’

  ‘I’ve been here three days.’

  ‘Perhaps you can have another go next year.’

  ‘With a younger year group?’

  ‘What’s wrong with that?’

  Lily shrugs, not bothering to reply.

  ‘They told me not to ask you about what’s been happening . . . specifically,’ her mum says, rubbing Lily’s back. ‘Of course I want to know. Your school at Marching Lane didn’t seem to know anything at all when your father went there yesterday. I think your Mrs Kite may need to have a lesson in communication.’

  Lily softens at her mum’s touch and flush of guilt takes hold. She tries to rescue the dialogue. ‘I haven’t thought how difficult it is for everyone.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘But I don’t really know what’s happening myself. Except . . . except for what happened to the boy. To Didier.’

  Lily’s mum’s lips dip downwards. ‘Darling, I don’t know what to say.’

  ‘Nobody deserves that,’ Lily says.

  ‘The poor love, in a coma.’ Lily’s mum drops her head to find her purse, her grey roots blending into tired dyed-blonde hair. She raises her face, pushing back her fringe to show the tramlines cutting into her forehead. ‘I can’t think how his family will—’ She doesn’t finish what she is saying.

  There could be any number of different thoughts in her mum’s head. She must be feeling what mum’s feel.

  Police sirens sound from across the Seine.

  Lily feels lonelier than ever.

  ‘I want to get a message to Flora,’ she says. ‘She’ll be worried.’

  ‘I have Mrs Kite’s number,’ her mum replies. ‘Let’s hope the message gets through.’

  Lily decides to ignore the comment.

  ‘It’ll be OK, Mum. Don’t worry.’ She grasps her mum’s hand, feeling her tiny cold knuckles in contrast with the warmth of the underside. ‘I do love you,’ she says.