He made a rough chuckle in the back of his throat. ‘As if I didn’t know what he was up to. So I bypassed the chit-chat, showed him the lab-test results and mentioned the fact that I was old enough to hear the truth, and would rather hear it from him.’
Seb rose and started pacing the floor. When he turned back to Ella his face was dark, controlled anger only too visible.
‘He told me to leave it alone. Water under the bridge. And he did not want to discuss it ever again.’ He snorted and shook his head. ‘I told him that I had no intention of leaving it alone. He told me that I was a stubborn fool and that I should get on with my life.’
Seb was holding onto the back of his chair so tightly that his knuckles were white in sharp contrast to the thunderous look on his face. ‘And then we had a fight. I blamed him for taking me away from everything I loved to a country where I didn’t even speak the language. He blamed me for driving Nicole away. And then it got worse.’
He flexed his fingers for a few seconds, trying to restore some of the circulation. ‘I won’t bore you with what happens when two Frenchmen start an argument where neither of them have any intention of backing down, but it was lucky that a couple of his friends turned up to play golf before things got out of hand.’
He shrugged. ‘I admit it. I was angry. He had completely refused to answer any of my questions. So I told him he was a coward. His final words of comfort and consolation were along the lines of: “You can’t bring her back,” and then he slammed the door behind me. That was the last time we spoke.’
‘Oh, Seb. That’s horrible. You haven’t spoken to him since?’
He raised his head and stared at her in disbelief. ‘What would be the point of that? I know my dad. He won’t change his mind. If I want to know who my father is then I’m going to have to find out on my own.’
‘And that’s why you want to follow up what you found today?’ Ella raised her hands. ‘Because he is right, you know. You’ll have to decide what to do with any information you do find. There is a good chance that your father may not want to be part of your life, even if you want to be part of his.’
Seb nodded in agreement. ‘I know it. There is a very real chance that André Morel let my mother down. But I don’t want to make that judgement without knowing the facts. Perhaps she left him to be with my dad? It might help to explain his reaction.’
‘Wait a moment. Did you say that his name was Morel?’ Ella asked in a voice bright with curiosity.
Seb reached deep into his trouser back pocket and tugged out the newspaper clipping he had found that morning and passed it to Ella, who was now standing next to him as he looked out of the window into the garden where the trees were swaying wildly in the wind.
She scanned the few words, then let her shoulders drop. ‘André Morel. Well, that cannot be a coincidence.’
Ella’s hand slid down and her fingers clasped around Seb’s, forcing him to glance down at the sudden sensation of her fingers on his as she spoke.
‘I think that you had better come with me. There’s something that you need to see!’
Ella half dragged Seb the few steps from the kitchen to the living room, then used her free hand to rummage around in a wicker basket of cards of all sorts.
‘Mind telling me what I’m supposed to be looking at?’ Seb asked impatiently as he tried to slip his hand away from hers, but she was not having any of it.
‘This,’ Ella replied, waving a party invitation in the air. ‘I’m working this evening at my favourite hotel in town. Private birthday party for…wait for it: Madame Morel and family,’ and she held the invitation behind her back. But Seb just scowled at her from his great height and lifted the card from her fingers.
‘Is this for real? And what do you mean when you say that you are working at the hotel?’
‘It is absolutely for real. And you may recall that my parents are professional musicians. Well, until I had Dan I earned my living as a performer. So tonight I am going to be playing and possibly singing for my supper and Madame Morel. And—’ she shrugged her shoulders ‘—Sandrine told me that the Morel family are originally from Montpellier but have retired to their holiday home around here. I know that they might be a completely different family and it could lead to nothing, but isn’t it worth taking the time to ask a few questions?’
‘Maybe,’ Seb replied hesitantly. ‘And this is all going a little too fast for me to keep up. You are a professional musician working as a housekeeper, in the middle of nowhere. Is that right?’
‘My choice. And no, I had not made the connection between the name Morel and your family until you mentioned it.’
Ella waited, watching his face, begging him to agree to follow this up. But patience was never her strong point, so she leapt in while he was still thinking about it.
‘Come to the party tonight as my guest. I’ll introduce you and tell the family that you are trying to trace an old friend. See what happens! There could be someone there who can put you in touch with this André Morel or may even have known your mother in person. You don’t have anything to lose except a few hours in the city.’
Seb slid his hand from hers, and sank down onto the sofa. Ella perched next to him and brought her bare feet up onto the sofa cushions. Waiting.
Seb slowly raised his head to look up at the portrait of his mother before turning back to Ella.
‘I can’t be satisfied with the fact that my parents loved me.’ He shook his head. ‘That’s just great. What an idiot, eh?’
Ella tapped her bottom lip a few times, then slapped her hand on the coffee table. Startled, Seb jumped forward. ‘What?’
‘Seb Castellano. I have a proposition for you.’
The surprised look on his face was replaced in an instant with a cunning smile.
‘Oh? But we have only just met. I thought you English were so reserved!’
Ella smirked. ‘Yes, very funny. You should be so lucky. This is serious. So please try and pay attention. Nicole Lambert has been a very good friend to me. I know how hurt she would be if I tell her that her stepson Sebastien, who she talks about constantly, had never intended to stay for her birthday celebrations in the first place—’
Seb sat forward but Ella gestured him back down with the flat of her hand. ‘Please sit, I’m not finished yet.
‘Okay. It goes like this. You stay here until next weekend and help Nicole celebrate turning sixty—which she totally hates the idea of, by the way—and in return…’ She paused and breathed in through her nose. ‘In return I will do everything I can to find out about this André Morel. I know everyone in this village and the hotel is the local meeting spot for the retired population who would love to have a detective job like this to work on. I can soon get the network going on tracking him down. What do you say?’
Seb reached out, grabbed her hand and kissed her knuckles before Ella could grab her hand back, if she wanted to. She didn’t want to, and the natural wide grin on Seb’s face said it all.
‘I would say thank you for the offer, but I can’t stay. I have to head back to Sydney on Monday, then Tokyo at the end of the week… what? Why are you shaking your head? Those tactics are not going to work on me.’
‘You know, I never took you for a quitter, Sebastien Castellano.’
Seb bristled. ‘Quite right. I’m not.’
‘Then why are you making excuses? You know, Nicole came back from Australia with a suitcase of photos of her amazing stepson. She was all alone in the world but she made sure she had your photos with her. How do you think she is going to feel when you leave