Elle by Emma Mars

Author:Emma Mars
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2015-02-09T05:00:00+00:00

15

MAY 31, 2010

The cardinal rule of journalism cannot be learned in school. Even my mustachioed professor had kept silent on it. The idea is simple and can be stated in one sentence: Reality is not your friend. In no case, in no way.

When you first start out, you dream of getting good scoops and making headlines. You naively think of facts as an orchard whose ripe fruit will spontaneously fall into your hands. All you have to do is include them in your article. But nothing could be more wrong. The truth resists you. It rebels against you, mocks you, does anything it can to escape you. In the field, reality is a gigantic trompe l’oeil, and screens of illusion stand as obstacles.

The obstacle of the day seemed insurmountable:

“Saint-Broladre?”

The employee at Ille-et-Vilaine’s branch of the Department of Social Services was sputtering on the other end of the line.

“Isn’t that the main orphanage in the area?”

“That was a long time ago, Mademoiselle . . . It’s been closed for more than twenty years!”

Obstacle number one.

“Oh . . . But can’t the archives still be consulted?”

“They’re here, along with everything else related to family affairs and adoptions in the area.”

“I see. Would it be possible to consult them?”

“It depends on what you’re looking for. They’re all here, in Rennes.”

“I’m looking for a file on two children who lived in Saint-Broladre in the seventies.”

“Are they your parents?”

The difference in age between the Barlet brothers and me often led to such misunderstandings. Would it be wrong of me to lie? I considered it but figured I’d eventually have to provide proof of my identity, so I stretched the truth.

“No . . . but one of the two is my brother-in-law.”

“In that case, there’s nothing I can do for you. Unless you get a court order, of course.”

Obstacle number two.

I sighed, took a deep breath, and went back on the offensive.

“Just one question: Whatever happened to the orphanage?”

“The building?”

“Yes . . . does it still exist?”

“I think it was abandoned. There were plans to make it into a luxury hotel, but they fell flat, and the building is now in ruin. It’s too bad, since it’s such a beautiful architectural piece.”

That night I did a little research online and learned that the Saint-Joseph orphanage—as the Franciscan nuns who had built it in the early twentieth-century had named it—was a beautiful example of northern Pas-de-Calais architecture. The nuns themselves originated from that region by the Strait of Dover. Several old postcards depicted the majesty of the inner courtyard and the little steeple adorning the main building.

AFTER FLORENCE DELBARD’S HASTY DEPARTURE, I wandered for much of the afternoon through the neighborhood surrounding Rocabey Cemetery. I zigzagged through its deserted avenues, ruminating over the information that Aurora’s adoptive mother had given me.

Walking was not only a form of distraction; it also helped me organize my thoughts more clearly. Still, I stopped at two different brasseries to quench my thirst and snack on sugar crepes, while using my phone to research some of what I had learned that day.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.