The Last Dress from Paris(19)

5





Lucille


   SATURDAY TO MONDAY


   PARIS


By the time Veronique and I finished indulging our romantic fantasies last night, it was far too late to call Granny Sylvie. But she is top of my list this morning. I need to find out how much she knows about the identity of A&A. Why she sent me here, knowing full well the gown she asked me to return is lost. I need her to tell me how she came to own those incredible dresses and then why she gave them to Veronique’s mother, because I’ve slept on it, and none of it makes any more sense this morning.

I dial Granny’s number and wait an age for her to answer, running through a few horror scenarios in my head (fallen into the fire, starved to death) before the line connects. No one speaks, and I picture Granny trying to talk into the wrong end of the handset, mouthpiece pressed to her ear.

“Granny, it’s Lucille!” I bellow.

“Lucille! Is that you?” All those miles away and I can still detect the excitement in her voice.

“Yes! I’m calling from Paris.” I deliberately quicken the speed of my speech so as not to sound patronizing, which I know infuriates her.

“Wonderful! How is everything? How is the Athénée? Still beautiful after all these years, is it?” She sounds all wistful and daydreamy.

“Everything is just perfect, Granny. I am having a wonderful time. I had dinner with Veronique last night—”

“Oh my goodness . . . did you really?” she splutters into the phone.

“Yes, she’s great.”

“Did the two of you get on well? Was it a lovely evening?” Her voice is clearer, stronger for a moment.

“It really was. She’s quite beautiful. Petite, glamorous in that understated French way. Loves a bit of romance. But more than that, Granny, she’s kind. I like her a lot and I’m sure you would too. She cooked me dinner and we chatted for hours about her job at the museum—and the dresses.” I try to nudge the conversation the way I need it to go.

I want to get her onto the subject of the dresses. I know from experience that conversations with Granny on the phone can be very taxing, for both of us. With no face in front of her to read for conversational clues, she often gets annoyed with herself and loses focus. “She showed me all the dresses, Granny.”

There is a pause long enough for me to consider repeating myself before she adds, “Oh, that sounds wonderful.”

I expected her to be more excited about the dresses, but she sounds distracted, and I sense she’s going to end the call.

“The thing is, Granny, she has more of your dresses, not just one. Did you know that?”

“Does she still have the Debussy?” Now she’s getting excited.

“Sorry, the what?” I’m trying to remember the roll call of dress names that we ran through last night, but it’s hard. That bottle of red we polished off isn’t helping my powers of recall.

Granny has no such problem. “Sequins, feathers, blue. Exquisite.” She’s gone all breathy.

“She does!” Yes, that one I do remember.

Granny lets out the strangest sound.

“Are you okay, Granny?”

“Such a special dress.”

“But the Maxim’s is missing—although you know that, don’t you?” I allow a hint of good humor to lace my voice. I’m not cross with her, how could I be? Just baffled by the whole thing.

“Oh, I know. But finding it will be the fun part.”

“That’s why I’m here, isn’t it? For the dresses? But there are eight of them, Granny, not just one. And actually, two of them are missing. And do you know about the cards that accompany each dress? And what about the initials, A and A? How is this all connected to you, Granny?” I blurt it all out, feeling certain she’ll be as confused as I am, but her response comes with clarity.

“Which dress are you going to start with, Lucille?”

“Start with?”

“It will be easier if you start at the beginning. It will make more sense that way. Don’t be tempted to jump around. Stick to the dates.”

My God, none of this is a surprise to her at all. She knew exactly what I was going to find at Veronique’s apartment last night, as well as what would be missing. Which only makes me wonder what else she isn’t telling me. What other surprises are in store?

“You know all about this, don’t you?” I suddenly feel incredibly tense.

“Well, more than I let on, that’s true. Follow the dresses, Lucille, let them show you the story. Then bring it all back to me.”

“But why, what does any of this have to do with you? I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I, my darling, not all of it. But I hope by the time you return that I will. I have lived with not knowing for quite long enough.”

I hear her take a deep inhalation of breath to steady herself and gather her thoughts.

“I am a very old lady, and it is no longer in my power to find the answers. But you can, Lucille, you can do this for me, and for yourself. You can retrace the story and finish it, once and for all. It will be worth it in the end, I’m sure. Good luck, my darling.”

And then I think she actually hangs up on me, because the line clears, and I can’t ask her a single other thing.