sound of an approaching tram followed Veronique as she crossed the road, sparks catching on overhead cables stretching the length of the boulevard as it sped towards the city.
Christophe was leaning with one foot propped against the railings, all skinny jeans and lurid red high-tops. He held out his arm and she tucked herself safely underneath as they made their way into the park.
‘Remind you of anyone?’ Christophe pointed to a child sat astride the top of a climbing frame, shouting down to others in the sandpit below.
‘You were always too busy burying dolls in the sand and then digging them back up again, saying you were an angel taking them to heaven.’
‘And you were too busy picking fights with the older kids to help me.’
‘No doubt due to my elevated levels of testosterone.’
‘Some would argue I don’t have enough, which is why we make the perfect couple.’ He planted a kiss on her head.
‘Do you know…’ Veronique looked up at him ‘…most people probably think we are a couple.’
‘If I were ever interested in a woman it would be you, ma Chérie. But you’re avoiding the subject.’
Veronique kicked away a stone. ‘Not much to say.’
‘I take it the lovely Mingxia didn’t tell you what you wanted to hear?’
‘I don’t know what I want. That’s half the problem.’
‘The other half being a certain police captain I’m not supposed to talk about?’
Veronique pulled away from him. ‘No, it’s not that. I’m perfectly capable of doing this on my own if necessary, but…’
‘But?’
‘I don’t know.’ She trailed her hand along the railing surrounding the playground. A railing she used to walk along, arms wide to the sky. ‘It’s this place, it holds too many memories.’
‘Not all of them bad.’ Christophe took her hand, leading her in the direction of the lake beyond the trees. ‘We had our fair share of awesome times, did we not?’
‘Yes and for that I will be forever grateful, but it affected us, both of us, perhaps in ways we still don’t understand.’
‘That bastard should pay for what he did to you.’
‘I know.’ Veronique gave his hand a squeeze. ‘But even he doesn’t have the balls to come back and I can’t keep using him as an excuse.’
‘Excuse for what?’
‘Everything? Nothing at all? How else do you explain my situation?’ She stretched her hand out, allowing a child on a scooter to pass underneath their arms.
‘I thought you liked being by yourself?’ Christophe twirled her back against him, draping his arm over her shoulder. ‘Wasn’t that part of the reason you left Guillaume?’
Even she didn’t know the real reason. He asked her why she wouldn’t let him in, refused to share her life with him. But she had never dared to show anyone the real her, the one who lurked in the shadows of her mind, who wanted to rip and tear and bring pain to those who did her wrong. How could he ever understand that part of her, forgive her for what she had done?
‘I guess you get to a certain age and questions begin to surface.’
‘Certain age? Now you’re making me feel old.’ He banged his hip against hers. ‘You’re not even thirty-five!’
‘Medicine doesn’t lie. Past thirty the chances of conceiving fall off considerably. Add to that the PCOS…’
‘I understand the medical odds, but that doesn’t mean it can’t happen.’
‘And who’s to say I even want it to happen or that it should happen? I mean, I’d hardly consider myself ideal mother material. Which way?’
Christophe pointed towards a wooden bridge at the edge of the lake. ‘Define ideal? Neither of us even had a mother and we’ve turned out all right. More than all right I’d say.’
Veronique knew very little about her mother. She was barely out of her teens when she had given birth to Veronique, after which it was as if she had disappeared altogether, which in Veronique’s experience meant she had a very good reason to stay hidden. Why her mother ran in the first place, chose to abandon her child the very moment she was born, Veronique didn’t think she would ever know.
As for her father, he was a ghost, no name on her birth certificate, no clue as to where she came from. It was the complete lack of information that frustrated her more than anything else. Was her impulsiveness, her mistrust of everyone around her, due to circumstance or genetics? Would she still rebel, rock the system and disobey all the rules if she had been raised in a safe, loving household, or was it inherent in her DNA to be an outsider, indifferent to the status quo?
‘Everyone deserves the best possible start in life they can get. How am I supposed to raise a child of my own when I have no idea about what complications are hidden in my blood?’
‘I still think you would be the very best mother any kid could possibly get.’
Veronique picked up two sticks, handing one to Christophe. Together they went to the side and threw them into the water below.
Christophe leant over the railing. ‘You know that only works on moving water.’
‘I have to go and see a psychiatrist.’
‘Why?’ He looked over at her and she thought back to another time: a time when they would escape to this park, away from whatever was waiting for them back at the foster home.
‘Standard procedure if I want to be considered for adoption.’
‘So what’s the problem?’
‘Because we were part of the system, every time we went to see the doctor it had to be recorded and filed away. Every single time. I can’t hide that part of my life.’
‘It wasn’t your fault.’
‘Wasn’t it? Do you know how often I ask myself why I went back there? How is it that one decision, one stupid decision, can haunt you for the rest of your life?’
Christophe drew her to him, resting his head atop hers. ‘Is that why you took this case?’
‘Perhaps.’ She stepped back and walked down the other side of the bridge. ‘I’m not really sure, but I can’t help thinking about what made Mathilde run away in the first place. Can it really have been because of a boy? And why the drugs? What was it in her life that made her start using?’
‘There doesn’t always have to be a reason.’ Christophe linked arms with her again. ‘I’ve seen it over and over again. One time leads to the next, which leads to the next. People think they have it under control until they wake up one morning and the only thing they can think about is how to get their next hit.’
