I'm really feeling for Anne right now, you'll see. I remember in Celui Qui Tient Mon Coeur, chapter 5 when Mary visited Kenna and Anastasia for the first time, she told baby Anastasia that she and Anne were going to be the best of friends and they truly were.
The following Friday, the day before Mary's first round of chemo, she worries for Anne's health. She sits against the wall by Anne's door, stares down at the tray of buttered toast and juice and water and attempts to cajole her eldest daughter from her bedroom.
They've given her a week, hearing her sneak downstairs at ungodly hours before locking herself in her room. They've called her school up, stated that Anne has been struggling and requesting if the school can send over homework and other things she needs to catch up on.
When Mary lost her mother, she'd thrown herself into her schoolwork. Now, her daughter avoids it, her family and everything like the plague. It terrifies Mary because Anne has never been privy to her catatonic states and she knows it won't be long until Anne falls into a deep depression where she's sinking and sinking and unable to dig herself out.
"Valentina," Mary says softly. She's never used that name without joining 'Anne' to it but right now, she needs to grab some sort of reaction from Anne. "You're scaring Daddy and me." I've scared him a lot too. I keep doing it, I can't stop it. One day, I think he'll grow sick of it, she thinks, slapping her forehead. Shut up...
"No success?" Francis asks, coming up the stairs.
Mary shakes her head. "There could be a fire and she'd still be in there," she says wryly. Just before she can stand up and take the food downstairs, the door opens and she gasps when she sees Anne.
Only, Anne's different. Her golden locks have been cut short, almost in a pixie cut sort of style and a frown is permanently etched onto her face. Mary can't remember the last time she saw Anne smile.
"Next week is the finals," Anne starts, her dad's eyes widening when he takes her in. Her hair! "The girls texted in the group chat... They want to honour Ana. They've told me to... To... To make a speech and be th-the deputy captain... I can't."
"You can," Mary says, standing up and placing her hands on Anne's shoulders. "You're the strongest-"
"No, Ana was the strongest girl ever," Anne cuts her off. "I'm weak."
"Oh, baby girl..." Mary breathes out, hugging her close to her chest. "You're not weak! You're strong and Anne... Remember what you said? At the funeral... You want to be like Ana, be fearless like her. So be inspired and... be fearless."
Anne nods once and looks at her father who holds the tray of food now. "I'm hungry," she mumbles.
"How about I make you a full English?" Francis suggests. "And get you some fresh orange juice."
Anne smiles a little. Finally, her parents think. "I'd like that..."
...
Following her first chemo round, Mary's surprised to see Kenna waiting for her in the waiting room with Francis. She shakes her head a little in disbelief and slight confusion, making her way over to them.
"How was it?" Kenna asks.
"Why are you here?" It's harsher than intended. She hadn't want Francis in there, too embarrassed much to his insistence about him being her husband and their wedding vows but she won and alas, he waited. Kenna's grieving though. The last thing she needs is-
"I wanted to be here," Kenna says simply with a shrug. "I had nothing to do. Bash suggested that I get out for some fresh air and then Francis told me that you were here and I thought I should come. I can go if you-" Mary cuts her off by hugging her tightly.
She feels Francis's hand on her back. "Thank you," she whispers to both of them. "We better get back before James lets the little ones set the house on fire."
They've given their son a lot more responsibility. Even promising to pay him for babysitting. Since the whole 'Rose went missing' thing, he's been extra vigilant, having the boys well-behaved and Rose in his eyesight at every minute.
"They said you'll need some energy and food though," Kenna says once they let go. "Shall we head to the restaurant?"
"I knew you were here for free food," Francis jokes, receiving a hint of a smile from Kenna as Mary smiles fondly. "Let's go, ladies."
They sit at a quiet table, away from the other diners. Mary feels sick, she doesn't want to eat the simple spaghetti in front of her. It's plain, a little bit of basil on top and it's served with water.
They'll grab some food for the kids.
"Our fridge is full of food. We've moved stuff into the freezer for more space," Kenna says, picking at her pasta dish. "It's strange, isn't it?"
Mary nods. "I can remember Jim and I eating various dishes we never really ate in years for months following Mum's funeral," she replies.
Francis chuckles softly. "Mum had to start herding ours away when Dad died," he adds. "When Bash decided to go back to the condo, she sent him on his way with at least five Pyrex dishes. His roommate had a field day."
It brings out a soft bubble of laughter between them and Mary swallows hard. "H-How are you doing, Kenna?"
Kenna looks up from her plate and turns to her. "I don't know..."
"It's a stupid question-"
"It's a valid question," Kenna interrupts. "I can't quite believe it. To me, it's like she's in her room sulking after we've told her off or something. But going to call her and she's not there..." She sighs heavily, her voice breaking. "Now, that's heartbreaking." She wipes her tears away. "Maybe it was too soon to... Mary, I'm sorry. I should get going-"
"Kenna," Mary calls her softly and even Francis has stood up with her.
Kenna shakes her head, digging into her bag for her keys. "I'll... I'll see you later," she whispers, hurrying out of the restaurant.
They stay silent for a while, Mary questioning what's just happened in her mind. As much as she aches to run after her and make sure that she's okay enough to drive home or even call someone for her, her mind is put at rest when Francis decides to go instead, promising to come back soon.
When he returns, he looks satisfied, mumbling something about calling an Uber and helping Kenna with her car later. It assures Mary that she's okay and that she doesn't have to worry, for now.
"I need to show you something," Francis says, deciding to have her food put into a takeaway carton since she can't really stomach it right now and he doesn't want it to waste.
He carefully lifts her from her seat and takes her to the office. He sits her down at the desk and brings over a bunch of bubble-wrapped, thin square items of various sizes.
"You know the family wall?"
"Of our photos?" Mary replies, nodding. Their whole wall dedicated to their family, the reason behind the success of the restaurants. Family. Over the years it has been expanded when new members of their ever-growing Valois family were born. Even Claude's son and Hercule's little boy have their places on the wall.
Francis opens up the largest one. "This is my grandfather," he informs her.
Mary studies the photo. She has seen a few photos of Grandpa Valois or Pepe to his grandchildren he barely knew and she sees the striking resemblance between him, Bash and Henry. Francis looks a little like him but he definitely fairs his mother's side mostly, she believes.
"He was handsome," she says.
He grins. "Oh?"
"Not as much as you."
He laughs. "Babe, I'm not threatened by my dead grandfather who would have been at least a hundred if he were alive," he replies coyly before his face becomes solemn. "I'd like to do a wall dedicated to our deceased loved ones."
He gestures for her to open up the other photographs and Mary spots Henry, her uncle Christian much to her surprise and Francis squeezes her shoulder when she gives him a teary smile. She also finds his great-grandfather who passed away shortly after James was born and she was glad that Francis and his siblings had had a chance to get to know him before he passed on. There's a photograph of his grandmother from his father and finally...
Dressed in a purple dress, dark brown hair curled to a stylish bob, sparkling smile and twinkling eyes, Anastasia has her own photograph.
"Bash and Kenna would like this," Mary breathes out in awe, brushing her fingers over their niece's face. "She's so stunning... Heaven's gained another angel..."
Francis presses a kiss on the top of her head. "Yeah. I've been thinking a lot about family and... Mary," he starts, kneeling beside her and gripping her hands in his own. "You, me, and our brilliant, strong children are going to get you through this together. When your mother was sick, she only had you and Jim but you... you have the whole of the Valoises who have your back and more! Mary, you've done a lot, you've been through a lot. Let us look after you."
Mary nods shakily. "Okay..."
She closes her eyes as he kisses her on the forehead and then on the lips. Then her stomach grumbles and he gives her a pointed look to which she laughs nervously and relents.
"I may be a little hungry..."
"A little?" Her husband replies with a playful roll of his eyes. "Come on then. Let's get you something hot to eat then." Knowing full well that her untouched spaghetti has now been left cold. They'll still take it home.
"I love you, Francis."
He turns to her as they reach the door. "I love you too."
...
"Hi, Rose," Mary says, coming to take a seat on the sofa beside her daughter who mindlessly flicks through the kids' channels on TV, the little boys playing with their toys on the ground. "What are you up to?"
"Nothing," Rose mumbles, shrugging with one arm in it.
Mary has noticed that Rose has not been into her cooking or anything lately and she fears she has ignored what the little ones feel regarding Ana's death. There are three years between the girls and even though Rose is closer to Audrina than Anastasia, they still were close. In fact, her kids are crazy close with their cousins, she wishes she had the same relationships with her own.
"Are you okay?" Mary asks carefully, lifting an arm so Rose can snuggle into her side.
Rose picks at a loose thread on her mother's shirt, raising her blue eyes to meet her mother's warm browns. "Did she... Nevermind."
"No, what," Mary says gently. "Who?"
"Ana..."
"What about her, love?"
Rose sighs, lowering her gaze. "Do you think she was scared? To never see anyone again?"
Mary knows that kids' perceptions of death differ from older kids' and teenagers and adults especially. But Rose is quite intuitive and smart and she sees things others don't. Where she craves peace and quiet, she uses those wisely, observing people and refining her skills in social and culinary.
"I think..." Mary starts carefully. "That Anastasia was very brave. When she was born, she had surgery on her heart. She was a tiny, little thing. Everyone was scared to take a breath in case we'd break her but that tiny, little baby became a powerful, resilient girl. She was very brave, Rose; she wasn't scared."
That assures Rose and she sighs wistfully. "Okay..."
Mary smiles and presses a kiss on her daughter's head before removing herself from the girl's grip and taking a seat on the carpet beside the boys. They hand her a toy truck and she accepts it, seamlessly going into the role of playmate over mother.
"There's a fire around the sofa! We need to put it out!" Christy calls out, then pursuing into making siren noises.
"On my way, Fireman Christy!" LJ calls out and Mary can't help but chuckle.
She studies the boys, her smile slowly leaving her face when the unnerving feelings return. This is what I'll miss if I die, she thinks before almost slapping herself. It's pretty difficult, seeing her kids so child-like, as should be, but at the same time, she wishes they were older so this could be easier. She wasn't allowed to have 'easier'. She lost a dad she barely knew and a mother who had more to teach her.
She couldn't let her kids go without her.
"You okay, Mama?" LJ asks, coming to dig himself into her chest.
"I'm okay, Lejean," she mutters, kissing him on the nose. "Are you okay, baby?"
LJ grins. "Yeah!" Then he goes sad. "But..."
I know, Mary thinks, sighing heavily. Me too... "Why don't we draw and paint?" She suggests. "I'm sure James won't mind us using some of his acrylics."
Rose perks up. "Can I draw something for Audrina?"
"Of course!"
"Can I draw something for Alexander and Adrien?" Christy asks, giving his sister a pointed glance.
Mary snorts. "Of course," she says, noticing LJ's downcast eyes. "But let's leave Adrien to LJ so he has someone."
"Okay!"
And that's how they spend the rest of their late afternoon, painting and drawing and... Mary just appreciating her kids all the more.
...
"Anne, you have to go to school now."
It was now just over a month since Anastasia's death and Mary and Francis couldn't possibly hold off the school any longer. James had gone back relatively quickly, a week following the funeral but Anne... She had gone back for a day, because of the Football match (which they won in Anastasia's honour but decided against celebrating it with anyone other than their respective families) but since then, she stayed home.
Mary had been understanding, she saw this at work on the daily but now... her daughter's normally pristine school record was failing. Her grades are lowering and Mary's sure that exams will be here before they know it.
Anne opens her door, dressed for school much to her parents' relief, and she crosses her arms. "School doesn't matter," she says. "Nothing does."
"Anne..."
Anne rolls her eyes, fingering the bottom of her black tee. If she had it her way, she would be adding lipstick to that list but thankfully, Mary has taken all dark shades of makeup from the girl's room. She wants her sunny daughter back.
"If Anastasia will never get to finish school, why should I bother?" Anne asks pointedly.
Francis gives her a slight glare. "Anastasia's de-She's not around anymore," he says, stopping himself from saying something that would hurt her despite it being the truth.
"Exactly," Anne drawls. "So, why should school matter?"
Francis pinches the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. "Anne, we need to do things we don't like or can't handle. If we never do them, we'll regret it or... things will have a way of getting more worse than they are. Your grades are-"
"I don't care about my grades. In fact, this may be the only time I've actually been relaxed and free! Free to do whatever I want and find some happiness!" She cries out.
"We know grades aren't what we chide you on about," Mary quickly says. "But you're smart and it will go to waste, sweetheart."
"If I want to be a doctor or a lawyer or even an engineer, I'd need school, right?" Anne asks, her parents nodding. "I don't want to be any of those things so I don't need school."
Francis almost slams his head against the wall. Almost. "Anne-"
"Anne, shut up and go to school. You weren't the only one who lost Ana," James snaps, heading down the stairs.
Anne looks murderous and she reaches down for her school bag. "Arsehole," she mutters.
"Anne!" Her parents cry out.
"What is going on with you?" Mary asks her, eyes wide. "I know you're grieving but that is no way to act! Much less to your brothers and sister."
Anne raises a daring brow. "I think it's justified," she snaps. "Because you might drop dead too!"
Mary gasps as Francis gapes. She tries forming words but she can't and even Anne tries to, instantly regretting her words. After five minutes, Anne slams herself back into her room, the door closing in her parents' faces.
"Mary, she didn't..."
...
Nineteen Years Ago
"...drop dead and die," Mary mumbles to herself tearfully as she slams her mother's bedroom door shut and heads downstairs.
She's just had a horrible argument with her mother about her mother's reluctance to let her go and work at a nearby pub. She has to if she's going to help James rid half of his burden and keep a roof over their heads.
Marie clearly can't work and their father's life insurance and money their Uncle Christian sends to tide them over is running thin. Christian can't keep bailing them out, he has the bakeries to consider. He has dreams of opening another one up and paying his mortgage.
Mary doubts she'll ever get to a point in her life where she'll have a mortgage, a husband and kids with a steady job with a steady income.
In fact, Mary can see her life planned out now. She'll go to the local university, do some easy course and pray she gets a job with it that will be enough for her to eat and be content. She'll meet a few bad frogs along the way and finally meet a man good enough to be passed as 'Prince Charming'. They'll have kids and live a content life. A convenient life.
"Mary, Marie, I'm home!"
She helps Jim with the shopping, going to their small kitchen and putting away the pasta packets, milk, eggs, bread and jam. When Jim sees her glum appearance, he digs into his pocket and spares her a couple of quid.
"Go grab some chocolate for us, will you?" He asks. "Or have you forgotten that it's my birthday?"
Mary gives him a look of awe and doubt. He hasn't celebrated, or they all haven't celebrated their birthdays in a long time. Only Mary's 16th was worth a cheer or two. She's seventeen now, her birthday had come and gone the same way every day was. Tending to her mother and wishing she had a better life.
Then she remembers the awful things she muttered under her breath. For her mother to drop dead and die.
It would be easier, mind her. If Marie did die because then, she would be in peace and she wouldn't be in pain and Mary would be relieved that it wasn't killing her anymore. But then she'll miss her mother terribly despite the grievances and high emotions.
She doesn't want to lose her mother, her father's already gone.
"A-Are you sure?" She whispers. "What about the meter?" The meter which they have to pay to get some hot water and electricity going around. Their house is old, no wonder the costs were relatively cheap but that didn't mean it was affordable with their joined wages.
"I've done a triple shift, Mare," Jim says tiredly. "I'm sure I want some chocolate to share with my favourite sister."
"I'm your only sister."
Jim grins. "Yeah, you are," he says, kissing the side of her head. "What's wrong, sis?"
Mary shrugs. "Contemplating life," she says, half-truthfully. Then her tears come. "I told Maman to drop dead and die."
"To her face?" Jim asks, appalled.
"Not exactly. Under my breath but still," Mary hiccups.
Jim hugs her tightly. "It's okay. Mary, you're human. We're all human, we do get frustrated and upset and... I'm sure that if she did hear you, she'd understand."
Mary sniffles. "Okay..."
"Now, go and grab us our chocolate. I've even gone and bought..." He presents her with Cadbury's hot chocolate. "Hot chocolate! It was on sale." He even shows her a pack of custard doughnuts. "Now, hurry up. Preferably before EastEnders comes on."
"You're obsessed with that soap."
"No, I'm not," Jim says, blushing. "But it does take away from reality, eh?"
Mary smiles. "Yeah. I'll be right back," she promises with a kiss to his cheek.
Two weeks later, Marie dies.
...
Present Day
"Words have power," she whispers to herself, ignoring Francis's voice and heading to their bedroom where she sinks into their bed and curls up.
"Mary?"
"I told my mother to drop dead and die. She did, two weeks after," Mary mumbles.
Francis takes a seat beside her, brushing her hair back. It's already thinning and he swallows hard. "I'm sure those weren't linked. We say things we don't mean to our loved ones. I've had my fair share of arguments with my father that ended up in tears and regretted words. But at the end of the day, what strong relationship doesn't have arguments? Anne will come around and I'm sure you adored your mother with every fibre of your being. Anne... she is struggling, we have to be patient."
"I know... I just," Mary sighs, looking at him tearfully. "I don't think I can..."
"What, my love?" He asks and when she doesn't reply soon enough, he adds, "Ma vie?"
Mary sniffles. "Kenna said that I go into a shell, close myself off from everyone whenever something bad happens. Like someone dying or my diagnosis, I guess... I told myself and you that I'll be strong and fearless but I really want to go into my shell right now. I just want to be left alone to-"
"To wallow in self-pity?" Francis asks and she hates how much he speaks sense. They haven't gone through fourteen years of marriage, eighteen years of a solid relationship without knowing what the other is thinking and exactly how to spring them into rational thinking. She likes him being harsh, kindly though, so she can be strong and the woman she knows she is. At the same time, she wants to lump him over the head with the novel that she hasn't been able to read in weeks, waiting on her bedside table.
"I fluctuate," she mumbles tiredly, Francis already pulling the duvet up as she yawns. She's so emotional and physically exhausted. Grief and chemotherapy are bitches. "I can handle other people's grief processes, yet my little girl is suffering and I can't do anything about it."
Francis pecks her hairline. "Then rest, come back to it and try again," he tells her. "Until then, I'll have a go. I've got to take the kids to school. I love you."
"I love you too," Mary says, yawning and drifting off.
The kids will be late today but they have their grieving period still in place, their schools very understanding. As he passes Anne's bedroom, he hears her gut-wrenching sobs and guiltily thinks that 'yes, she deserves that after what she told her mother', but he promises to himself to come back as soon as he can and comfort her anyway. She's still his little girl and after his brother has lost his little girl, he knows he'd die if he lost his own.
"I'm here, Anne," he whispers, heading down the stairs. Always.
...
After dropping LJ and Christy off at their classes with special notes, Francis spots Bash dropping off the triplets and heading to his car. He follows after quickly, stopping breathlessly as he makes it to his brother before Bash can open the car door.
"Hey," he says, wincing slightly.
"Don't tell me that little jog gave you stitches?" Bash asks, receiving a slight smile from Francis.
"I'm getting old, okay?"
"Says you," Bash mumbles, crossing his arms and leaning against his car. "Late as well?"
Francis grimaces and nods. He considers telling Bash about Anne but thinks otherwise. He has a lot on his plate and Anne shouldn't be on his mind. "Yeah, woke up late," he lies. They were perfectly on time until Anne and Mary's bust-up. "You?" And then he feels stupid. "No, I shouldn't have ask-"
"Adrien pulled a tantrum," Bash sighs, squinting at the sunlight as he slips his sunglasses on. He might as well if they're going to have a conversation.
Anne and Mary can wait, Bash needs him.
"Was it related to his older sister not being around anymore?" Francis asks knowingly.
"I don't know what to do," Bash replies, rubbing his temples. "Kenna's a wreck. She's up and down. It's like she's shutting it out but at the same time, I can't pull her out of Anastasia's bedroom. Catherine's... I think she's stopped taking her meds entirely because I've had to deal with her a few times and the triplets... They're really... I don't know what to do."
"I can take one problem off your hands," Francis says. "Pack Maman's stuff, she'll stay with Mary and me-"
"Mary's sick-"
"Bash... I don't think you should be handling all of this on your own," Francis tells him. "Let me help."
Bash blinks in surprise and shakes his head. "Not you. Anyone but you. You have Mary to think about. She's started chemo, right? How's that? That's a stupid question. Of course, she's probably feeling awful and you-"
"Stop," Francis quickly says, a hand on Bash's shoulder. "We're both terrible, eh?"
Bash nods slightly. "Charles. I'll give him a call. He's got that place in Taverny. It's peaceful, I guess. She'll like it there. Catherine, I mean. Not Mary or Kenna, I can't speak for them although Kenna hates the countryside. Anastasia would have loved it there. A lot of space for her horse, definitely. If she was..." Still alive.
Francis smiles a little as Bash sighs and shakes his head. "I'll call Charles," Francis says. "Mother would love it in Taverny." He looks around. "Do you want to grab a coffee?"
"I'd love a coffee."
Perhaps five minutes to get your thoughts in order too, Francis thinks empathetically.
They end up at the de Guises' bakery, since Francis needs to check in next door quickly, and Tash is behind the counter. Her eyes warm when she spots them and she immediately rounds the counter to hug Bash tightly.
"Oh, it's lovely to see you," she mutters into his ear, pulling back and Francis can see that Bash is relieved that she kept it at that and didn't bring up Anastasia. "What would you gentlemen like today?"
Since her time staying with Mary, Francis and the kids, Natasha has been better and now, she lives above the bakery in the small, cosy apartment. Francis certainly misses her being around, he didn't know how he and Mary would have handled four kids and a newborn baby when LJ arrived.
"Coffee, please. Milk, no sugar," Bash replies, pulling out his wallet.
"Don't you dare bring that out," Natasha says. "Put that away! It's on me."
Both men nod, not wanting to argue as they take seats. Francis quickly orders a tea, milk and one sugar and he takes a seat in front of Bash, watching the cars pass outside the window.
They sit in companionable silence and when Natasha presents them with their drinks and vegan blueberry muffins, believing Bash to be a vegan like his wife and kids, she excuses herself back to the counter to serve other customers.
Bash looks down at the muffins. "They were her favourite," he says, picking one up.
"They're good," Francis says conversationally, taking a bite. He chews it and swallows it down. "I can definitely tell why."
"Sorry about... putting everything on you," Bash says after a while. "I can't exactly talk to anyone else about it, much less Kenna... I think deep down, she hates me."
Francis watches as Bash rests his chin on his palm and picks at the muffin. He shakes his head vehemently. "Why would she hate you? She loves you."
"I'm the one who did this to our daughter-"
"If you're going to blame yourself, blame Dad and the hundreds of relatives before him who had heart problems," Francis tells him and at Bash's silence, he goes on to say, "See? You can't even deny that."
"Remember when... When I considered giving up on Anastasia?"
Francis's brows raise and he nods slowly. "Yeah."
"You really... uh, you really helped me that day," Bash says tightly. "You were right, I shouldn't have considered giving up on her before she was born. We have had a little over twelve amazing years with her, with some bumps along the way, and I wouldn't have traded them in for anything. It's better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all..." He then checks his watch. "I should get home."
He hasn't exactly drunk his coffee nor eaten his muffin but Francis doesn't bring it up as they stand and he hugs his brother. "I'll call Charles on the way home," he tells Bash. "By the end of the day, Maman will be staying with him for the foreseeable future."
Bash nods against his shoulder. "Thank you, Francis." They pull apart and he looks like he wants to say something else but shakes his head. "Call me when... when you've spoken to Charles. I'll be available, I guess."
Francis smiles wryly. "Yeah, definitely. Talk to you later."
"Yep," Bash says, leaving.
Deciding not to waste the coffees, Francis drinks them both and puts the muffins in to-go bags, as an olive branch from Anne to her mother. He hates his girls hurting.
"Tash, I'm heading off," he tells the woman when she finally has time to breathe following a good rush of customers.
"Send my love to the family," she tells him and he nods, waving and leaving.
As he looks down at the muffins in his hands, Francis smiles sadly.
..I feel it, when I sorrow most;. 'Tis better to have loved and lost. Than never to have loved at all... - Alfred Lord Tennyson.
I felt like this was getting longer so Mary and Anne's making up will be in the next chapter.