Free Daughter of Catalonia by Jane MacKenzie Page B

you tied very close to their home, didn’t they? You’ve been very protected and I don’t think you understand anything about what you’re saying. You can’t just head off, a girl alone at your age, to look for people who may no longer exist, without any contacts or invitation. It’s such a strange idea! Stay here with us. You can discover Paris, make some friends – even work, if you like. But to head down to Vermeilla now? It’s just not feasible. Wait a while, if you like, and maybe Bernard could go down with you, when he has time, or better still, we could write to the village mayor at Vermeilla to ask if Philippe is still in the village. But to go down there now, on your own? My dear, it just won’t do!’
    Madeleine felt her heart sink.
Tante
Louise’s view of her didn’t seem to differ much from her grandfather’s. Was she really so useless, so unformed, so incapable? The glow of the evening, and its easy, companionable reminiscences, shrivelled cold before her. Cousin Cicely came to mind, with her worldly independent life in London. And Peter, with his serenely arrogant assurance. Madeleine felt like a silly child caught trying to buy cigarettes, unfit to join the adult world.
    Was it so stupid to want to go to Vermeilla? But why not? Why was this so difficult? To
Tante
Louise Vermeillawas an insignificant, coarse fishing village a thousand kilometres from the sophistications of Paris, but for Madeleine Vermeilla was her birthplace, her only real past, and she felt more strongly than ever that she needed to stand on its soil in order to grow.
    You want me to grow up? Then let me go. And let me go now, while I have escaped from England and no one is looking for me. I’ve been imprisoned – don’t do it to me again.
    She struggled for the words to make them understand.
    ‘
Tante
Louise, I would love to discover Paris. I don’t mean to be ungrateful. But I have something else I need to discover first, for me and for Robert. It has become very important to us now that
Maman
is gone. And I know I am inexperienced, but I can as easily take a train as anyone else and visit a small village which holds my roots.’
    ‘And if they don’t want to know you?’ The question was from Solange, not hostile, but concerned. ‘If after all these years the Garriga family has been forgotten in Vermeilla, since your mother never returned there? What will you do then?’
    ‘Why, then I’ll come back! I’ll behave like a tourist for a few days, see the area where I was born, and then return to Paris. I only have money to go for a short while, anyway. I’m not planning to set up house!’
    It was Bernard who spoke up again now, measured and reflective as before.
    ‘I don’t think a small village will quite have forgotten your family. After all, it has only been fourteen years since the liberation. But they may not know anything muchabout how Luis died, if he was up in the hills with the resistance, as I think he was. You say it was Philippe who wrote to tell your mother? Then they know at least the bare bones, and to my mind enough people will still be there in Vermeilla to talk to you about your parents. Your father did a lot of high-profile work down there. It’s that you want, I think, more than anything else – to hear about your parents, and to feel your roots again? Well, I think you’re right.’
    Louise shook her head in dismay, and Bernard moved smoothly on to change the subject. But later, as Bernard and Solange were leaving, Madeleine overheard more agitated discussion in the hallway. Bernard’s very rounded tones sounded loud and clear.
    ‘Those two children have been deprived of all the history and background most people take for granted. And that girl has eyes which are shaded for fear of defeat. But in this she has determination, and that’s why we need to help her. You’ve got a couple of weeks to work on her if you want to, but I don’t advise it. She’ll go anyway. But if you help her to go,