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  ‘I just cannot believe you would put me and Maman in this situation. I am dismayed by your behaviour.’

  ‘He is just young, Didier. I am sure he has learned his lesson now ...’

  Alexandre was grateful to his mother for trying.

  ‘No. This boy has had things far too easy his whole life. He does not realise how his little pleasures impact upon all of our lives.’ He turned back to Alexandre. ‘You cannot carry on like this. Your sister was right when she spoke to you in the carriage last night. Your actions reflect badly on her and Jacques. You are not a child anymore. You are an eighteen-year-old man and I know what that is like. But you must have more care and if you cannot take care, for God’s sake, at least be discreet.’

  ‘I am sorry, Papa.’ Alexandre hung his head. He knew how to be repentant and appease his father. It did not do to argue - that would get him nowhere. ‘I regret my foolish actions and …’

  ‘Yes, you say sorry Papa and you regret this and that, but then you carry on and do whatever you like. It is not good enough! You need to think. You have a brain don’t you? Use it. These people, they are a powerful family and we may mock their ways but now it is my career at stake. Do you understand?’

  Alexandre looked down at his shoes. No, he didn’t understand. How could his father’s career be at stake?

  ‘Son, it pains me to say it, but Monsieur Bouvier is more-or-less my employer. If we offend him, I lose my funding and my income. We lose ... everything.’ His father sighed. ‘Do you understand now?’

  ‘Your employer? I did not think you were employed by anybody. I thought you were your own man.’

  ‘In a way I am. But, I do not have the wealth to do as I please. Our family is reliant on the patronage of the rich. It is not a thing I care to advertise and it is not something I wished you to know. But now, because of your actions, you need to know our precarious situation.’

  Alexandre suddenly had the shock realisation his family weren’t exactly who he thought they were. They were not the carefree members of the wealthy upper classes who could travel through life without a thought for anything.

  ‘But our house … everything we do speaks of money.’

  ‘Yes, the house is ours and we are fortunate that we have enough. But ‘enough’ is not an endless supply.’

  With a sickening lurch in his stomach, Alexandre understood things were not as they seemed and his selfish actions really may have had serious consequences for his family. He had known going out on to the terrace unaccompanied with Lily Bouvier was against the rules, and the kiss was completely unacceptable. But he had not anticipated that to break these rules could mean his father’s career might suffer and, in turn, his whole family’s fortunes. He hung his head again, but this time it was with real shame.

  ‘Papa, I did not realise and I will never do anything like this again. I am ashamed ... I will make it up to you.’

  ‘Pah!’ his father replied. ‘You are too handsome for your own good.’ He turned back to Maman. ‘This boy’s good looks are from your side of the family. It is entirely your fault we have this problem.’

  Alexandre and his mother both chanced a wary smile. Papa’s anger was always short-lived; he could never be cross with any of his family for too long. He loved them all too much.

  *

  On Monday morning, Alexandre paced around the drawing room, imagining the worst. Cold spring rain splattered against the windows and gusting wind rattled the misted panes.

  ‘For goodness sake, Alexandre. Do sit down. We shall hear back soon enough,’ his mother snapped.

  Papa was currently visiting the offices of Monsieur Bouvier to apologise for his son’s behaviour. Alexandre was terribly worried. Would Papa lose his funding? Would Monsieur Bouvier expect Alexandre to be given a serious punishment?

  His parents had thought it best if Alexandre did not accompany his father. They said the mere sight of his handsome face could further provoke high feelings and that was the last thing they wanted.

  A few hours later, and several hundred more circuits around the drawing room, Alexandre took a deep breath as he heard the front door slam.

  The door to the drawing room flew open and his father strode in, removing his hat and coat and tossing them onto a side table. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes glittered.

  ‘Goodness, it is foul weather out there. Blowing a gale. Where are the others? Can you call them in, Marie?’

  Alexandre’s mother swept out of the room, gathering up her husband’s hat and coat on the way. Alexandre couldn’t work out what sort of mood his father was in. He appeared agitated, but not entirely angry. He ignored his eldest son and stood looking out of the window, his hands clasped behind his back.

  Moments later, Marie-Louise returned, the twins following her into the drawing room with expectant expressions. Jacques raised a quizzical eyebrow at his brother. Alexandre shrugged in reply.

  ‘Well, Didier?’ Marie-Louise asked. ‘Are you going to put this boy out of his misery and tell him what his punishment is to be?’

  ‘Lily Bouvier is to be engaged!’ Didier announced.

  Alexandre felt his stomach sink down to his boots.

  ‘I am to … to … marry?’

  ‘Ha ha!’ Didier roared with laughter. ‘Not you! You, marry? Ha! You can barely take care of yourself.’

  Alexandre’s stomach inched back up to where it should’ve been. His mother gave a half-smile, half-frown in his father’s direction.

  ‘No, no. No marriage for you just yet,’ his father continued. ‘But, Lily is to be wed and Monsieur Bouvier is worried your little scandal has the potential to damage his daughter’s reputation.’

  Alexandre realised his punishment would be harsh. He had kissed someone else’s fiancée. He lowered his eyes and waited for his father’s pronouncement.

  ‘Monsieur Bouvier has decided the only course of action is for you to accompany us to Turkey on the dig. If we are all out of the country, the gossip may eventually die down.’

  Alexandre thought he had heard wrong.

  ‘Well? Have you nothing to say?’ The corners of Papa’s mouth curled upwards.

  ‘Is this true?’ Alexandre could not believe it. ‘I am to come with you?’

  ‘That’s not fair …’ Jacques began.

  ‘Not just you, Alexandre,’ Papa said. ‘We are all to go. All five of us.’

  ‘But this is amazing!’ Jacques almost leapt around the room.

  ‘No!’ Isobel exclaimed. ‘I do not wish to go!’

  ‘Incredible,’ Maman said, ignoring her daughter’s distress for the moment. ‘He is funding the whole family?’ Her dawning smile encompassed them all.

  ‘Yes!’ Papa also allowed his smile to break through.

  Alexandre had been fully prepared to knuckle down and spend a gloomy year at his books and yet instead he was now to accompany his parents across the ocean to Turkey, to adventure and excitement. What excellent fortune.

  ‘I shall miss the whole season! I shall miss my friends and everyone will be talking about us, saying we have been sent away like criminals.’ Isobel all but stamped her foot. ‘Alexandre, this is your doing.’

  ‘I am sorry for your disappointment, Isobel, but come now, do you not think we shall all have such fun travelling together?’ Alexandre replied, his eyes alight as the reality sank in.

  ‘Belle! How can you not want to go?’ Jacques asked. ‘You are so boring.’

  ‘Jacques,’ his mother reprimanded. ‘Do not be rude to your sister. She has different priorities to you and it is a lot for her to take in.’

  She turned to Isobel who sat down heavily at the piano, looking most upset. ‘Isobel, my child, do not distress yourself. What Papa omitted to say, is that we shall be travelling First Class and there will be wonderful parties aboard our steamship. Think of the glamorous stories you shall tell your friends when we return.’

  ‘Well, that is something I suppose. But, Maman, will I not need some new gowns if we are t
o travel First Class?’

  ‘This one does not miss a trick,’ Papa said. ‘Very well. New gowns for Isobel and, to be fair, new gowns for Maman.’

  ‘Oh, Papa, I love you!’ Isobel jumped up from the piano stool, ran across the room and threw her arms around her father.

  ‘Oh you’re such a girl, Isobel,’ Jacques said. ‘Who cares about dresses and dances when we shall be travelling on the ocean and visiting foreign shores? It will be wonderful.’

  Later that night, as Alexandre lay in bed unable to sleep, he thought about his sudden good fortune. Thank you Lily. That kiss has changed the course of my life. After years of begging to come and being denied the opportunity, he could now accompany his parents on one of their infamous digs.

  It was uncanny that he had landed himself in such trouble, and yet from it had come something so unexpected and wonderful. Turkey! What was it like? What would the people be like? The women? No ... better not go down that avenue too soon, or his parents would ship him straight back to Paris.

  Maybe his life would now take on some meaningful direction and he could find something he really wanted to do. At present he was studying Engineering at the Académie Camillo. But it wasn’t his passion, just a subject he was good at and at this moment he felt nothing but enormous relief that he could escape it. In his heart, he hoped another opportunity would present itself and he would never have to resume his dull studies.

  How would he ever fall asleep tonight? Too many things danced through his mind. The journey overland would be long and arduous, possibly even dangerous and he would have to be armed. It was almost too exciting to contemplate.

  The departure date had been brought forward and their tickets now bore the date March 12th 1881, only two weeks from now. Hardly any time at all to get properly prepared for a nine-month expedition in a strange land.

  Chapter Three

  *

  Madison and her foster parents reached a kind of compromise, a way to keep the peace and try to get back to normal. Angie arranged for Maddy to spend her week’s suspension from school, working with her in the supermarket.

  It meant Maddy could keep out of Trevor’s way, stay out of trouble and, at the same time, contribute to the dwindling household income. Angie was happy with the arrangement, Madison less so and Ben was relieved Maddy wouldn’t be sent away. Trevor hadn’t made his feelings known; he’d just grunted.

  Madison had been stacking shelves, sweeping floors, cleaning toilets and flattening cardboard boxes for a couple of days now. She and Angie were on the eight-till-four shift, with forty five minutes for lunch. Each day was long and monotonous and Madison was bored out of her skull.

  Nobody interesting or good looking worked there and she was mortified every time anyone from school came in, mainly because she had to wear a blouse and skirt so revolting they induced violent feelings of nausea. To complete this humiliating ensemble, was a blue nylon overall which generated so much static, she renamed herself Electro-Girl, whose only superpower was to give off shocks barely strong enough to irritate a wasp.

  Maddy knew her foster mum enjoyed having her there. They had their tea breaks and lunch together and Angie kept trying to initiate cosy chats, trying to draw her into all the work gossip. But Maddy wasn’t interested in the faulty till on checkout number three or how bad the manager’s new hairpiece looked.

  Home life wasn’t much better, with Trevor ignoring her and Ben constantly asking if she was okay. Each evening, when she got home from the supermarket, there was a shed load of schoolwork waiting. She was fed up and exhausted. Nothing felt good. To top it all off, tomorrow was her sixteenth birthday and she had nothing planned. She didn’t even know if anyone would remember.

  The following morning dawned grey and bland. A nothingy day – damp and dull. But when Madison came down to breakfast, she saw two wrapped presents on the table.

  ‘Happy birthday, love,’ Angie smiled and kissed her cheek. ‘Your brother reminded us. What with all that’s been going on, we almost forgot. Sweet sixteen and never been kissed.’

  ‘Hmphh.’

  ‘Trevor! Don’t be such a misery guts. It’s the girl’s birthday. You don’t turn sixteen every day.’

  ‘Happy Birthday,’ he finally said. ‘Well, don’t just stand there, sit down and have some breakfast. Angie’s done us a fry up.’

  Ben flew into the kitchen. ‘Happy Birthday, Mads! I got you a present.’ He handed her a small, badly wrapped parcel.

  ‘Oh, Ben, you didn’t have to! Thanks.’

  ‘Open it then.’

  ‘Give us a chance.’ She tore at the wrapping, secured with yards and yards of sellotape. ‘God, Ben, did you use the whole roll?’ She finally managed to prise the gift free of its bonds and out of a small squashed cardboard box fell a silver bracelet with a single charm attached. It was a small bird with its wings outstretched.

  ‘It’s not real silver or anything, but I’ve seen you with that seagull book all the time and the charm looks a bit like a seagull, so I thought you might like it.’

  ‘Ben, I love it. It’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever bought me. You are such a great brother. But you shouldn’t’ve spent your money on me.’ She stood up and flung her arms around him, kissing his cheek till he pushed her away.

  ‘Alright, Maddy, it’s not that great.’

  ‘Yes it is. I’m going to put it on and I’ll wear it every day, forever.’

  ‘Aaah, Ben,’ Angie said. ‘You’re such a thoughtful boy. You’ll make someone a lovely husband one day.’

  Ben blushed and sat down at the table.

  ‘Are we eating or what?’ Trevor said. ‘I mean it’s lovely and all that, but our breakfast’s getting cold.’

  ‘I’ll dish up,’ Angie said. ‘Sit back down, Maddy. You can open the rest of your presents after brekkie.’

  Maddy still had to go to work, even on her birthday, but she hadn’t expected anything otherwise. She opened Angie and Trevor’s presents which turned out to be some fairly awful perfume and a box of chocolates.

  ‘Sorry it’s nothing more exciting, love, but you know we’re a bit strapped at the moment. We’ll get you something better when Trevor’s back at work again.’

  ‘No, no it’s nice of you to have got me anything. Thank you.’

  She knew everyone had been making a real effort, but she just felt really down. On her birthday, she always ended up thinking of her mum and what it might have been like if she hadn’t died. She couldn’t even remember their father. He’d done a runner when she was only three, when her mum had got pregnant with Ben.

  Her mum had died from a brain haemorrhage when Maddy was eight and Ben only four. They had no other relatives and her dad had been untraceable, and so began their journey through the care system - a catalogue of misery and instability.

  For years she’d refused to believe her mum was really dead. Madison hadn’t actually seen the body or even attended the funeral, so she’d convinced herself there’d been a mix up at the hospital. Like most of the children she’d met in care, Maddy harboured a secret hope her mother would eventually come to claim her, but it had never happened. As Madison grew up and toughened up, she realised she’d been clinging to a stupid fairytale dream. Her mother wasn’t any more real than Father Christmas or the Tooth Fairy.

  She had to accept this was her life and it was up to her to keep the two of them safe. So she had badgered and bullied her support worker for months and months until the wheels of bureaucracy finally started turning in the right direction. Not until Ben and Madison were placed together at the Johnsons, did things start to get a bit better. But Maddy still couldn’t let herself fully trust anyone, nor could she shake the constant insecurity that gnawed in her guts.

  Later that day, after her lunch break, Maddy was given the exciting task of restocking tinned soups. But she didn’t mind. She actually found the job quite soothing and monotonous. Madison allowed herself to concentrate on the labels without thinking about anything else: pea and
ham, carrot and coriander, chicken noodle, tomato, the list went on. It irritated her when a customer came to buy from the section she was working on - she’d be forced to stop and move out of the way, breaking her calm concentration.

  Now, out of the corner of her eye, she saw one of the cashiers giving directions to a customer - a tall man in a dark grey suit. The man was heading her way. She hadn’t quite finished restocking country vegetable, when he approached and asked her something.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Are you Madison Greene?’ he repeated

  She looked the man up and down. He looked to be somewhere over thirty, but not as old as fifty. As far as she was concerned, anyone over the age of twenty was ‘old’. He looked like he had a good job, not the usual class of customer they got in here. Maybe he’d come from school, something to do with her suspension. He didn’t look like anyone from social services - he was far too well dressed and smelt of something expensive. Madison prided herself on being able to spot a social worker at fifty paces.

  ‘Who wants to know?’ she asked.

  ‘My name is Robert Vasey-Smith and I represent a firm of solicitors called Hamilton Blythe.’ He had a strong voice with no discernible accent.

  Maddy felt unsettled. What would a solicitor want with her? Had she done something wrong? Was she in trouble again? Great birthday this was turning out to be.

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘I need to confirm you are Madison Greene, daughter of Sally-Anne Hathaway.’

  Madison didn’t know whether or not to answer. How did he know her mum’s name? She saw Angie walking up the aisle towards them.

  ‘You okay, Maddy? Does this gentleman need any help?’

  ‘He wants to know if I’m Madison Greene.’

  ‘Who are you then?’ Angie took on a defensive posture, crossing her arms over her wide chest and staring hard at him.’

  ‘My name is Robert Vasey-Smith and I represent a firm of solicitors called Hamilton Blythe. I have some important information for Miss Greene.’