8.
(shinwa no kuni made yuku)

The next morning, Josh waked up much calmer. He felt that fever accompanying him the previous day had gone away. He'd slept the night, and the emotions had subsided. Actually, it was the last evening already that he'd been able to think of another things, and now he wondered whether he was so superficial person, indeed, jumping from one matter to another without getting seriously involved... However, it might also be the opposite and prove the diversity of his feelings, or something like that.

Suffice it to say that his attention had been diverted by the children living in the facility. Altogether, there was over twenty of them: the youngest weren't even two, and the oldest were fourteen. At first, they would be shy around him, which was mutual, actually; however, soon they had 'accepted' his presence and drawn him into their play (the younger ones) and talks (the older). The former had given him a lot of joy; as for the latter, his feelings were much more complex... He suspected that, during just a few hours, he'd heard more complaints, requests, secrets and regrets than the caretakers used to during one month. It could have something to do with the fact he was a stranger, and sometimes it was easier to confide in a stranger. It could also be that the children considered him someone they might one day become themselves; Madame Zircon had introduced him as a former charge, so maybe, unconsciously, he'd become a kind of model to them... He was able to understand they might need it, even if himself he didn't feel like an authority to anyone. Still, he could peculiarly sustain their hope: he'd been taken in, had found a family and a home. He could also offer them a motivation, as someone who'd grown up, lived independently and studied at university. Above all, he was someone who'd gone through the same things they had: loss of parents and stay in an orphanage; no wonder, then, that many had felt like talking to him.

And he would listen to them patiently, trying to comfort, advise, and support. He'd gone to bed quite late, for even at midnight, hiding from the carers, those wronged creatures would slip into his room, and he just couldn't send them away. If he was able to help them some way - if only with one good word - he didn't intend to let that chance pass, especially that he would disappear from here in two days, and probably for good...

He realised he had a great respect for people running this facility; they had to face the children's problems every day, mitigate the conflicts, give care and devote attention. Marise was only one year older than he, yet she worked here and gave her best to take care of orphaned children that had no other home. It was a demanding work, and a person lacking empathy - but also the ability to set limits - wouldn't be able to do it. On the other hand, it required specific toughness to be able to constantly deal with a human's misfortune... with a misery of a child that couldn't be blame for it. Yes, Josh was impressed - also as someone who'd once been on the other side, requiring that care and attention that he'd been then given only here, and by strangers.

After breakfast, Madame Zircon asked him to tell more about himself, and thus he launched into a story of his life with grandfather in Suno, of seven years in Idealo and education in Saint Grollo, as well as his studies in Paris.

"I think you've made a right choice," she said, and he stared at her, raising his brows. "I saw you talking with our children yesterday. You can probably guess... or know, actually, that they don't open up easily to just anyone... But you have a proper attitude."

"I suppose they just regard me as someone who understands them."

"Well, that, probably, too, of course," she agreed. "However, it doesn't automatically mean they are right. While in your case it holds true. But on the previous topic... Have you thought about what you would like to do after you graduate?"

Josh shook his head. "For a moment, I considered clinical psychology... but I no longer think so."

She gave him a questioning look, so he summarized the last events in Sainte-Jeanne. He mentioned his enthusiasm about his practice period, joy he'd derived from the patient work, and shock because of the young man's suicide. Talking about it filled him with grief again - it would probably last a longer while until Gilles' death stopped pain him - but he realised he felt somewhat relieved, being able to share it with a stranger. Or maybe it was about being able to talk about it? Two days ago, he had been mostly crying, unable to put his feelings into words, and now he could speak about it with someone... was no longer alone with his emotions and suffering.

"Then, I don't know if I'm cut out for that work," he summed up. "I intend to go back there and complete my practice... but after what happened I suppose I'll be too scared of making another mistake to be able to occupy myself with it in the future."

"But the death of that patient wasn't your fault," Madame Zircon pointed out. "Still, I understand your feeling of uncertainty. No matter how strong they are, such things can undermine a person's confidence."

"In any case, I still have three years of study ahead," Josh decided not to comment her words on being strong, especially that he didn't consider himself that. "I'm sure I'll find my field."

"I wish you- No, I'm sorry," she said quickly, and Josh wondered what she'd meant. "I'm glad you're going to stay here with us one more day. But tomorrow you're leaving, isn't it right? To Idealo?"

"Yes, but... may I use your phone? I'd like to notify-"

He realised it wouldn't do to once again descend on Erwin and Cecile without warning. Not that calling them one day before his arrival made any difference... He should have contacted them one week ago. Or let them know when still in Paris, that he would be in neighbourhood and wished to visit them. Now that he thought about it, he came to the conclusion he'd lost his ability to act on plan... Really, he'd used to be much more organised before... and now he mostly acted 'on the spur of the moment'. Erwin deserved some respect... especially after having been treated by Josh like that... That was, after Josh had got together with Alain, which was a crime in Erwin's eyes.

It could be that Erwin wouldn't even open his door to him... and that thought made Josh freeze to the spot.

"Joshua..?"

He shook his head. Either way, he had to inform Erwin. However, when he approached the phone, he realised he didn't know the number. He was really hopeless... Actually, in his whole life, he'd memorised exactly one number: Alain's. He wouldn't bother about everything else. "Madame, do you have the phone book of Idealo?" he asked, embarrassed.

"Of course."

Observing how Madame Zircon searched the right book on a shelf that looked more like a dump than an ordered place, Josh remembered that there was something like directory inquires, too. Well, he used to live in the world that no other means of communication but face-to-face and mail existed. True, he had a few important numbers written down in the notebook, but it hadn't occurred to him to take it along on the journey. He really should buy himself a cell phone, just like Alain had advised him to for a longer while... But what did he need it for? Who it was he could call to? First, he didn't like it; second... He still remembered the TV drama they'd come upon with Alain, when they'd still had their television. One character, a middle-aged woman, having returned home from work every day, would lie down on her couch and spend hours calling all friends and family members to chitchat, which was terrible. On the other hand, Alain did have a phone, yet he used it very rarely, so it was also possible that way... However, something of that kind seemed to Josh a hassle and waste of money.

Thought of Alain hurt... Well, he was about to go to Idealo, and it was there that everything had started. It was there that they had got to know each other and had become close... But now? How it would be: to walk down the familiar streets, to look at the church and campus, and all other buildings... to eat cheesecake in the Shelly - once more alone? For a second, he had no idea how he should think of Alain and himself. Were they still together? Were they still a pair? If they were, then probably the most odd pair in the world: one in Idealo, and the other... no-one knew where. Without contact, without reach, without... anything. Suddenly he felt like calling Alain instead of Erwin - and that was what he should have done long ago. Really, he'd been acting ridiculously: instead of clearing up the situation, he'd just let it continue... hoping for the best. Yet, he knew why he hadn't done so; he'd probably feared Alain not picking up, still unwilling to talk with him... or, even worse, he'd feared to hear the words of definite rejection, which he wouldn't be able to bear, at least not on the phone. Had he really come to the conclusion that he'd preferred the truth over daydreaming, only yesterday? How could he be so uncritical? Sometimes he really amazed himself...

Madame Zircon finally found the right book, although it was near that the whole pile dropped on the floor... Fortunately, she managed to stop the avalanche on time, and only a few sheets of paper fell on the carpet. She handed him a weighty volume with a bright cover and stooped to clear the mess, dismissing his help. Josh began to search for Erwin's name - making sure that the directory was up-to-date - but he was soon interrupted by a soft cry. He looked away from the column of letters - stopping the finger in the middle of the page - and saw Madame holding a note that must have flown with others from the shelf.

"Joshua..." she said in a weak voice, forgetting about the items remaining on the floor. "I think this is something that can interest you. As well as a proof of my bad memory," she added, dejected and frustrated, still staring at the scrap. "Oh my God. How could I have forgotten about it... I'm ashamed of myself. I'm sorry." She looked at him with remorse.

"What is it, Madame?" Josh asked calmly, although his heart beat faster.

Madame Zircon sat down on the armrest of the couch, still holding the note up in her hands and staring at it as a bad omen. At last, she lowered it on her lap and looked at Josh in despair. He closed the phone book and put it away, guessing he wouldn't need it for a while.

"Madame...?"

Madame was obviously agitated, but not as much for him to worry about her health. She seemed to gather her thoughts, her gaze shifting between him and the scrap of paper, and finally she spoke, "It happened after that fire I told you about yesterday... We were visited by a man looking for his missing relatives... I don't remember the details... nor the degree of that kinship, but I think it was a close family in question. In any case, he had lost contact with them much earlier... They had had some family issues and hadn't stuck together. Later, he'd tried to find them for many years, but in vain... and finally he'd started to tour the orphanages, searching for the son of his, presumably late, relative."

She knitted her brows and pressed one hand to her forehead in order to concentrate. "Such people aren't so rare here, so I can't remember every one of them," she said in an apologetic voice. "That time it was pretty chaotic here, and we'd lost all records... I couldn't help that man as much as I wanted. I was sure, however, that the child he was looking for had never been here... Well, I did mention your story to him, because we'd never managed to figure out who you were. I remember myself saying, 'And there was Joshua, too'. At first, that man was sceptical, for the boy's name was different, I can't remember what, while we knew at least that much, exactly as much, that you were Joshua. Thus, we thought it was a different child in question."

She took a deep breath, looking him in the eye, and resumed talking, "Later, however, when he learned about that car accident, that man returned here and wanted to know more about you... but it was impossible, for everything had burned, and I didn't remember where and with whom you lived. I had no idea where he could look for you; there are many children coming and leaving here, many of them find a new home. It could have been everywhere... and it was only now that you told me it was Suno. That man was, of course, disappointed about not being able to confirm his suspicions... He was sure he would be able to recognize the boy. Well, he left his address and asked to contact him in case any information came up... but I forgot about it completely." She clasped her hands beggingly. "Oh, Joshua, forgive me...! We had so much on our mind... although it's no excuse... That note lied here for years. And it would've lied twice as long if you hadn't showed up."

"But I did show up," Josh whispered, wondering whether all that was a terrible coincidence... or was it fate giving him a chance to find his roots. In just twenty-four hours he'd been given three pieces of information... three presumptions... More than in his whole life. The dramatic story only fuelled the feeling that something was in question, and he should solve it.

Madame Zircon gave him the paper - that could contain the information of his living relative - but, before glancing at it, he asked himself whether he could bear yet another disappointment. It could be another blind alley, another misunderstanding, another empty hope... Still... did he have anything to lose? In the worst case, his life would continue as it was, which wasn't that bad. He made his decision and looked at the note.

Ghislain Lavaud. And below phone number and address.

"Toulouse...?" Josh asked, raising his eyes upon Madame Zircon, who nodded.

"Yes, that man was a French," she disclosed another revelation that she'd left unsaid before.

Josh blinked and stared at the scrap again. Might it appear that he was a French by birth? Well, it was probably too early for such reflection, but... He mused. To tell the truth, he'd never had any difficulty with learning French. No; actually, he didn't remember learning French. Those lessons in primary school, mandatory right from the first class... It hadn't been learning, only communing with language, absorbing it. In middle school, he already spoke both languages equally fluently, although it didn't mean anything, for most people in Esperanto used French without trouble.

"What language did I speak when coming here?" he asked involuntarily.

"You were two years old," Madame Zircon reminded.

"But two-year-old children speak a bit already, don't they...?" Josh pointed out annoyed, looking up at her.

She shrugged. "You understood what was said to you, so it didn't occur to anyone to talk to you in another tongue," she replied dryly.

Well, it did sound logical. Overcoming his agitation, he stared at the paper again. Turning it up and down in his fingers, he thought about what he felt. Probably nothing. Maybe he really didn't want to hope vainly, so he'd rather not speculate... On the other hand, he realised he didn't want leave it like that. No. He wanted to know whether that man - now only a name on a sheet of paper - was really his relative. There was no other feeling than curiosity. Yes, only curiosity. Until now, he hadn't even thought... assumed he had any living relatives - why should it shake him now? If things had been different - if he had been searching for and longing for relatives all his life - he would have felt upset that the note had been lying here... How long? Ten years? Fifteen? But what should he be angry with? Fire? Bad memory? Fate?

Now fate was giving him another chance - and it was probably worth taking it...?

"What are you going to do?" Madame Zircon seemed to be reading his mind.

"I think my trip to Idealo will have to wait," he replied, looking at her. "It's the opposite direction, and I should be back in Sainte-Jeanne on Wednesday... Besides, I have no money to travel around southern France and its neighbourhood," he added, realising his means were limited. His room and board being paid by Sainte-Jeanne, he had nearly all his scholarship for this month at his disposal; still, it wasn't a great amount, and the rail tickets were rather expensive.

"Maybe you should call...?" Madame Zircon suggested.

"I don't think it is something to be talked over on the phone," he said; the very idea seemed repulsive.

She shook her head. "Of course it isn't. But if you're going to go there, you should first make sure that the address is still valid... And if you'll be able to meet that man, in the first place," she noticed lucidly, pointing at the phone behind his back.

Josh said nothing. Distractedly, he asked himself whether Madame Zircon wasn't giving him a veiled reproach for having not informed her of his coming here... He nodded, for she was perfectly right. There was no point in going all the way to Toulouse and then learning that he came in vain. He hadn't thought of it himself... which recently used to happen all the time. He turned to the phone, lifted the receiver and dialled the number with his heart racing. His hopes, if he'd had any, vanished quickly upon hearing the characteristic sound followed by, "The number you have reached is not in service."

He gave Madame Zircon a helpless look, but she came closer and stretched her hand. "Show me it... Well, of course, there was a change in phone numbers in the meantime."

"Change in numbers...?" he asked, surprised.

"From seven to eight digits," she explained. "Call the directory assistance," she suggested. "With the full name and the address, there should be no problem."

Josh's hands trembled somehow when, during the next few minutes, he dialled one number, gave personal details, wrote down the combination and then dialled it... Actually, his nervousness about using the telephone obscured his nervousness about the whole business. He supposed that, even if he called Erwin, the conversation would look the same way, which meant stammering and stuttering.

"Lavaud residence, Pichet speaking," a calm male voice was to be heard.

Josh gulped. "I... I'd like to speak with Mr Ghislain Lavaud," he uttered, looking at the note.

"Monsieur is currently absent. Would you like to leave him a message, sir? Or would you rather call later, in the afternoon?" the man asked politely.

Josh tried to gather his thoughts, which always seemed difficult in similar situations, but his interlocutor was waiting patiently. "Does it mean that Mr Lavaud will be at home in the afternoon?" he asked in the end.

"That is correct," he heard the answer.

"Thank you," he uttered and rang off, although he realised he could be considered ill-mannered.

"You don't like talking on the phone," Madame Zircon stated with a gentle smile. He shook his head; he hated it, indeed. He hoped he wouldn't need to make any phone calls in the next few days. "You've managed to confirm it," she said. "Are you going to visit there?"

"Yes."

"Today?"

"Yes."

She stared at him attentively for a moment before nodding, but something akin to a sorrow showed on her face. It didn't require much wit to guess what caused it...

"I'm sorry. I promised to stay until tomorrow..." Josh said with remorse, lowering his gaze. He felt bad; he didn't like to change his plans if it involved other people's discomfort.

However, Madame Zircon shook her head. "I understand your situation. If you have a chance to clear up this matter at once, you should do so. Today is Sunday, a good day for such things. After weekend it may not be so easy, with people having work, being busy with their duties, and so on. Besides... You will visit us again, won't you?" she asked.

Josh opened his mouth to assure her that he certainly would... and closed it again. He was very bad in visiting again; he knew that. If only he had Alain, he could spend all the time with him... forgetting other people who were important to him or had been important at some point of his life. He used to be enthusiastic as long as he was in someone's pleasant company... but when it was over, he would turn to different things, those around him. It happened all the time, always according to the same pattern... and he still hadn't understood the reason behind it, but at least he was aware of that. That was why he lowered his head and replied with feeling of guilt, "I'll try to."

"And I'll try not to forget you by that time," Madame Zircon retorted with a flash in her eyes.

He felt the corner of his lips twitch... and the next moment they were laughing together.

Madame Zircon told him in details how to reach Toulouse and how long it should take. He was supposed to travel with one train due South and then change to another, going West. If he had luck for the connecting train, he should arrive at his destination around two, three o'clock, which was quite a decent time for a visit, even unannounced. Well, Josh decided he had made understand about staying in contact, but he realised himself it was a very twisted way of thinking.

Still, there was no time waste, so he gathered his things and said goodbye to everyone, resolved to head straight for the station - then, however, it appeared that his departure wouldn't be so easy. Used to the fact that hardly ever people bid him farewell, he wasn't prepared for the situation that suddenly arose. Upon learning of his change of plans, the children objected loudly; he was supposed to stay until Monday! Some of them started to cry, other shout, while other sulked and left. Some related to the matter with understanding and began to hug him, which made the rest to follow their example.

In the end, a very touching scene took place on the yard, and Josh realised he was on the verge of tears himself. When one girl asked him in an importunate yet tearful voice if he would come back, he replied he would - and added in his mind that it would happen much faster he'd expected... and until they managed to forget him. It was only then that he realised - remembered? - that orphaned children didn't like changes... and until they grew up and learned to cope with them, they should be spared such 'surprises'... especially in the form of people suddenly leaving, disappearing. Those little ones had once been surprised like that... placed before the irreversible change that probably had left its mark for ever. Hurting them even more was a cruelty.

Finally, he disentangled himself from numerous arms and walked through the gate, accompanied by general sobbing. However, before departing, he turned around, and his eyes swept over the large group of children standing on the grass. "I'll be back," he said through clenched throat before looking at Madame Zircon over their heads. "I'll be back," he repeated.

The director nodded and smiled gently. Josh turned on his heel and left quickly, absolutely certain he would burst out crying... or change his mind and stay, while he had a business to take care of.

During the first stage of his journey, he could think only of that farewell. His hands were still shaking, and his chest ached when he recollected the embrace of little hands, faces stained with tears, quivering lips... He knew what had moved him so strongly, It was not that someone - children - wanted his presence so much, wished to keep him there and couldn't accept him leaving... Well, that too, of course, but what had shaken him the most was the realisation that had struck him that moment: what impact a change could have - and that those children had been marked just like he had. He couldn't think of it calmly; quite the contrary, he was under the burning impression that something had to be done about it, and as soon as possible.

Did the same future await those little ones? Sure, many things in his life had shaped up well: he graduated from a very good school and studied at university now, and besides he was self-reliant and capable of solving most problems he encountered. Probably many people would consider him someone who did well; when looking from the outside, it probably seemed so. However, when looking at his inside, the picture was quite different. Emotionally, Josh was terribly scarred... sometimes he even said, 'disabled'. It required so little to disturb that fragile balance... to throw him into deep depression and take away all his strength. Even if recently he'd been thinking he managed it a little better, he was perfectly aware that one short therapy couldn't correct all those defective emotional patterns of his and eliminate completely the risk of certain reactions that could drive him into a serious illness - how serious, he could understand during his practice in Sainte-Jeanne. It was his demon, and he could probably struggle with it for the rest of his life.

Would those children experience the same fate? That thought was frightening, and very painful. He wouldn't wish that on his worst enemy, much less those creatures that had once been terribly hurt. Was it possible to help them some way? To strengthen them so that they wouldn't need to go through the same hell he did? Actually, the truth was even worse... Josh had been, in fact, lucky, for he had found a new family - a man who had loved him and had given him home - and yet, despite that, despite all those years of receiving love, he'd grown up to be such a... freak. What was going to happen with those who wouldn't find a new home and would be forced to stay in the orphanage until they turned adult? Weren't they doomed to suffer? Weren't they already devoid of chances of a happy, good life?

Maybe he exaggerated. Maybe he just expected the worst. Maybe he should first gain knowledge about that - for developmental psychology taught only about what happened in normal conditions - or, at least, think about it calmly...? Yet, it was so hard to dismiss the image of sad faces, tearful eyes... and disillusion, lost trust in the gaze of those that had stayed in the back and hadn't participated in that soppy scene. Those children... and those that had left the spot earlier... They were already treading on the way that led to loneliness, to distrustfulness, to constant disbelief that good things would last. They were in a bigger - and certainly more immediate - danger than those crying ones cuddling up to him and wishing to stop him from leaving.

He shivered. Was it already too late? Was there nothing to do? No, certainly not, he told himself quickly. If only he could speak with them... He knew how it would look; he could imagine that. First he would gain their trust, which could last a longer while... Then he would ask - cautiously but naturally, without any pressure. And then they would talk - about everything, for everything mattered. He would be there to help - for if he didn't, he knew well what would happen to those children. If only he could talk about it with Madam Zircon... She probably knew about it herself and did her best to prevent the disaster, as did the carers working in the facility... But was she aware that the danger was so close and every minute counted? Josh had to make her understand that, explain that to her - the sooner the better. Actually, what was he doing here? And where was he, to begin with?

It was a good thing he thought about it, for it appeared he was reaching the station he was supposed to change on. His train was delayed, so the connecting train - a superexpress - was already waiting... Josh barely had enough time to run on the next platform and jump into the nearest door... and soon he was already riding due West, towards Toulouse, along with other passengers. He calmed his breath and started to look for his seat, which took some minutes, for the train was long, and his car was at the very end, of course. Finally, he managed to squeeze himself past a fat woman to his seat and stared at the scenery of vineyards moving outside the window, as the train gathered its speed.

The change had disturbed his train of thoughts and diverted his attention to the matter at hand... to what he was doing. He reached to his pocket for the note the unfamiliar man had left in the orphanage many years ago. Ghislain Lavaud. He looked at the letters but couldn't really feel he was going to meet his relative. His possible relative, he corrected quickly. Somehow, it seemed completely unreal... He caught himself thinking how odd that was - that sudden complication that had appeared in his life. Only yesterday morning he'd left Sainte-Jeanne, planning to go to Idealo via his home town... Yet, since then, he'd already managed to visit the orphanage and was now on the train to Toulouse, where he was supposed to meet with a stranger and relate to the issue of their possible kinship. It was still very hard to grasp all that had happened - and what would yet happen.

He recollected the phone call... 'Lavaud residence,' said the man that had picked up. And he had addressed that Ghislain as 'Monsieur', which meant he wasn't a family member... more an employee... some kind of a servant... Those two things together told Josh he would find more than just a small house with a garden when he arrived there. Should he learn he was a young lord of the upper class...? A heir to a good name and a fortune..? The thought nearly made him giggle, but he remembered the seriousness of the situation and felt anxious again. Who it was he would meet there? How would they treat him? He remembered the saying he'd been indifferent about until now, 'You don't choose your family', and maybe understood it for the first time. If he encountered unpleasant people... what then? Would he turn around and leave? Leave his only relatives in the world? Suddenly, a small house with a garden seemed much more encouraging... much closer and nicer option.

However, to tell the truth, he felt all of that wasn't more than an abstract. Even if he could imagine himself having - once - parents, despite not knowing and remembering them, the thought of the distant family was simply unreal. The only family he'd ever had - even if they weren't related by blood, which had been proved conclusively and still filled him with sadness - was grandfather, Joel Or. He was the only person Josh had felt attached to. And now, when an adult, he had - at least he believed he had - Alain... and that was enough. Alain was enough, and Josh really didn't need any relatives; that was probably the reason of his confusion as he went to meet that Ghislain Lavaud. It was exactly like he'd concluded earlier: even if it was a nice thing to know who his parents were, the matter itself didn't bother him, not on the mental level. He'd lived twenty years with a knowledge of being an orphan, and he had created himself a life. He'd accepted that his parents had died and that he had no family; he hadn't despaired of it, hadn't worried about it... actually, he hadn't even thought about it normally. Even if it was his part - or maybe exactly because of that - there were no emotions involved. He was sure he'd worked them - or, maybe it was better to say, he'd experienced them - as a child already, and later there had been no place or need for them. There was no reason for them.

Besides, he was almost completely sure that all of that would turn to be a big misunderstanding, and, in such situation, it was pointless to expect any tremendous scenes or disclosures.

The taxi he'd taken at the station brought him to a beautiful quarter, obviously inhabited by privileged people. They passed grand residences surrounded by large gardens, and Josh couldn't not notice his heart was beating faster. He went to meet complete strangers, true... but meeting complete strangers stirred up feelings, too, especially people of the upper class. Josh was more and more afraid of being treated badly... but, he comforted himself, Ghislain Lavaud had wanted to see him for many years. He couldn't possibly drive him away just like that...?

The quarter was big - which could have something to do with the fact that every estate occupied a considerable space - but finally the car came to a stop in front of the proper gate, dropped him off and left. Josh mustered his courage for some time and then entered the property, coming to the conclusion he looked like a moron standing on the pavement and staring at the house. Well, he didn't see anyone who could think such things of him, but better be safe than sorry. The house, like all others, was separated from the street by a stylish iron fence, but the gate was open, so he decided he could go in... and when no dogs appeared to attack him, his gait became more confident. A long rose bed in front of the house, now at the beginning of summer, filled the air with intense scent, and the building itself, two-storey and coated in while plaster, made a good impression... especially on Josh, who had a weakness for a beautiful architecture.

However, he hadn't come here for sightseeing, he remembered when standing before the entrance for a longer while. With some reluctance, he pressed the doorbell, and his heart jumped upon hearing the deep ringing inside the house. Soon, the painted door opened, revealing an older man in a suit. He was wearing glasses, and his thin hair was almost white. Yet, his eyes were bright, and his face expressed a composed collectedness.

"How can I help you?" he asked, and Josh involuntarily clenched his fists.

"I'm here to see Mr Lavaud," he uttered. As the man was still giving him a polite look, he said, "My name is Joshua Or." But those people didn't know his name, so he added quickly, "I come from the orphanage in Paco, Esperanto. Once, Mr Lavaud has visited there and left a message along with the address of this place."

As he was saying that, he realised he hadn't thought of one thing, namely that Mr Lavaud might have found his lost relative long ago. It had been some ten years since his visit in the facility... many things might have happened during that time...! Josh should have explained the matter on the phone, after all... should have asked... but it hadn't even occurred to him...! He'd just boarded the train and come here, maybe in vain, maybe to expose himself to those people's ridicule... Idiot, a complete idiot. Well, if nothing else, he could tour Toulouse, he'd never seen before, he decided hysterically.

All that crossed his mind in just a split second. In the next one, the man moved to the side. "Please, come in," he said.

Josh was deeply relieved; apparently, he hadn't made a fool of himself, and it was already something. It meant that Mr Lavaud hadn't managed to find his relative... and that thought made his heart beat even faster, although he'd rather not contemplate this reaction.

He entered the spacious hall with a marble floor, and the man closed the door behind him. "I am Pichet, a secretary," he introduced himself, turning to him.

"I... talked with you earlier," Josh replied. "On the phone."

The man nodded calmly; he seemed a person that hardly anything could surprise. He gave Josh a sign to follow him. They walked through the enormous hall and stopped at the far end of it, behind the stairs in the centre. "Would you please wait here, sir," the elderly man asked with dignity. "I will inform Monsieur."

Josh nodded, nervousness making his mouth dry. 'Where is your courage, Josh?' he told himself. 'You've already come here, so you can as well go through this one conversation, right? They won't eat you alive.' He tried to focus on the décor of the residence, but it was an impossible task, for his heart was racing and his head was humming, so he preferred to stare at his own shoes.

However, he waited for a longer while and managed to calm down a bit - as much as to know he could control himself, no matter what kind of conversation followed and what its result might be. He had a look at the house and noticed that the interior was rich and beautiful - as far as he could tell - but also silent and... filled with loneliness. Suddenly, he thought there was no-one else but Pichet, Mr Lavaud and himself here. Wide stairs led to the upper floor, where they divided into two balconies with the doors to the numerous rooms, but Josh doubted that those room were occupied. The house was full of works of art - paintings and sculptures, magnificent chandeliers, carpets and curtains - and yet he couldn't resist the impression that all that beauty was wasted here... Maybe it was just his imagination, but... there was no life in this house.

Finally, Pichet returned and invited Josh into the room he'd just left. Josh felt his heart, that in the meantime had managed to return to its normal rhythm, start beating faster again as he entered the place where everything was about to be solved, dramatic as it sounded. It as a sizeable office, currently bathed in the sunlight. It was furnished in a fine style, like everything in the house, starting from the soft carpet on the floor, through elegant furniture, to wallpapers of pastel shades. There were even well-tended house-plants all over the place. On the other end of the room was a massive desk... and behind it, a man in a suit stood still, looking through the window, his hands behind his back. When the door closed, he turned around and stared at Josh, who couldn't see his face, for it was in the shadow, and the light was sharp. For some reason, he imagined that the man's gaze wasn't kind, and gulped. Such thoughts were unnecessary, so he tried to banish them, although he was so nervous he might start shaking any moment.

'Courage,' he told himself. 'That man wanted to see you. And you wanted to see him, in a way. Now you can only move forward.'

"Good afternoon," he said shyly. "I come from the-"

"I know where you come from," the man interrupted him in an unfriendly manner, taking one step in his direction. "I also know that you are here because you think you are my lost relative... My nephew. There were many like you coming here during all those years. You shouldn't expect a special treatment," he said, but something in his voice quivered.

Josh could barely hear that through the buzzing in his ears due to blood, that had rushed to his head upon hearing the first words. He clenched his fists and then relaxed them again. Despite that hostile attitude he met with, he decided to remain calm and, without a word, kept observing the stranger... No, Ghislain Lavaud, he corrected in his mind. His eyes accommodated to the glare coming from the big windows, so he could see the man more clearly now. He assessed him to be slightly over forty... but the more he looked at him, the older the man seemed. He had brown, wavy hair, dark-blue eyes, rather delicate features and a trim moustache; if Josh had had any idea how an upper class man should look like, he wouldn't have been disappointed. Ghislain Lavaud would make really nice impression if not for his expression; bitterness, disillusion, and lost hope were visible in the wrinkles around his mouth, in circles around his eyes, and, above all, in his gaze. Although Josh didn't know him at all, he realised that man must have suffered a lot. Maybe it explained his cold, even repulsive, demeanour? Maybe, what struck Josh, he feared to trust and become disappointed again? Oh, he knew these feelings well.

He took one step forward - perhaps to prove that the attitude didn't affect him - but then the man turned again and looked through the window, and Josh could see only his rather slender shoulders.

"There are photographs on the table. Have a look at them and tell me if anyone looks familiar to you," Ghislain said impassively.

Josh stared at his back for a while before deciding to momentarily capitulate; he hadn't come here to fight, had he? He looked around; earlier, he had seen the low table between two bright couches. The thick carpet muffled his steps. He picked up three big photographs and examined the portraits of the three men. All were clad in fine clothes, had their hairs neatly cut, and seemed happy; the resemblance to Ghislain Lavaud was clear. Every one of them would make a perfect father.

"I don't know any of these men," Josh said in a calm, firm voice, putting the pictures back on the table. "However, if anyone of them is my fa- is my relative, then I have to mention I was too little-"

"And this?" the man interrupted him with anger, throwing one more photograph that he must have kept in a pocket. Josh barely caught it and didn't even manage to be surprised at the fact that Ghislain was standing close to him now.

He blinked, staring silently at the portrait of a young woman... a girl with black hair and blue eyes whose joyful smile seemed to declare love for the whole world. Unknowingly, he sat down on the couch, feeling something clench his heart and go up, up...

"I don't know this woman," he said dully.

"Then... why are you crying?" he heard the man's voice, oddly distorted.

He realised the tears were rolling down his face, indeed, and falling on the photograph. He wiped them quickly in order not to ruin the picture and then shook his head.

"I don't know her," he repeated helplessly, "but... she is my mother."

I go to the land of legends - Arai Akino, "Kōru suna"