Page 11 of The Little Provence Book Shop
Would he understand that every memory she had now of them as a family was tarnished, touched by the knowledge that the world she’d experienced hadn’t been an honest one? That the people with their arms around her, watching her blow out birthday candles, pulling crackers with her at Christmas; the people who’d stood proudly by her hospital bed holding Lili and smiling with what had seemed like genuine affection and pride had all been lying to her for her entire life?
Worst of all, perhaps she’d never be able to explain adequately the fact that when she’d found out the truth, quite by accident, there was a part of her beyond the devastation of the moment that had been relieved. Relieved that the tiny partof her that had felt uneasy, different, her whole life hadn’t been a flaw in her own character – a tendency towards anxious thinking – but her own sixth sense that something wasn’t quite right.
She’d try. She’d write an email and at least try to explain, she thought suddenly, determinedly. She turned to cross the shop floor, to reboot the rather outdated computer tucked away on a table at the side of the counter. But as she did so, her hip hit the side of a display table, the corner sticking painfully into her thigh.
She swore, loudly, the expletive feeling completely out of place in the quiet, quaint shop. The table wobbled and several books fell to the floor. As she bent to pick them up, her leg still throbbing, Adeline felt the tears finally escape and pool hotly in her eyes.
Shit. She wiped them away as best she could with her sleeve, returned the books to their table and stumbled to the counter, slipping into the chair and trying as best she could to get herself back together. That was the problem with holding it all in; once there was a breach in her defences, it was hard to find the strength to push her emotions back.
She was not a crier. Had never been. Preferred to solve problems rather than wallow in them. She steadied herself. This was not the time nor the place. But at least the shop was empty.
As if malevolent fate had read her mind, at that moment the shop door tinkled its warning and Monique returned, flapping her umbrella outside before propping it in the doorway on the mat to dry. Her neat, red raincoat was covered with droplets; the back of her hair slightly damp where the wind had blown moisture under the umbrella.
She turned, and Adeline stood up, smiling widely. ‘Bonjour!’ she said, in what she hoped was an upbeat tone. ‘Hope you didn’t get too wet.’
Monique turned towards her, smiling, but one glance at her employee’s face had her forehead crinkling with concern. ‘But Adeline, you have been crying?’
Adeline shook her head dismissively. ‘It’s nothing. Just feeling a bit emotional, is all.’
Monique walked towards her, brow still furrowed. ‘But it is not nothing,’ she said. ‘We do not cry for nothing usually.’
‘I just read an email from home.’ Adeline shrugged.
‘And it upset you? It is bad news?’
‘No, nothing like that. Just…’ She opened her mouth to lie – trying to find a plausible excuse for her tears. That she missed her brother, perhaps. It wasn’t completely untrue, after all. That she was a little homesick? Also a little bit true, at times. But Monique was closer now, her eyes seeming to burn right into Adeline, and she felt suddenly that there was no point in trying to hide – because Monique would know. She could read people; she was reading her.
Adeline took a big, shuddering breath. ‘My brother, Kevin, wrote to me. He’s not happy about me being here.’
‘But why?’
‘Oh, he’s just worried about me. He knows… well, when I decided to come, I was upset. With him. With my whole family really, only he’s the only one who’s still here. My parents… Dad died years ago when I was small and my mum died recently. So it’s just him.’
Monique nodded towards the stool and Adeline sat on it; she realised she was shaking.
‘And he thinks you are running away?’
‘Maybe.’
‘And are you?’
Adeline smiled through the tears. ‘Maybe. A little.’
Monique nodded. ‘It was a big argument?’ she probed.
Adeline shook her head. ‘Not an argument, as such. More…’ She wondered how much she should say, how much she was ready to say. ‘I found something. In my mother’s things. And I realised that my parents had been keeping a secret from me, my whole life. Mum isn’t here, I can’t ask her about it. But I asked Kevin – my brother. And I could hear it!’ Her voice became slightly hoarse. ‘I could hear in his voice that he already knew. That I’d been the only one in the dark!’
Monique’s hand reached out, touched her shoulder. ‘That must have been very difficult,’ she said. ‘And this is why you came?’
Adeline shook her head, both smiling and crying. ‘It’s why I left. But not why I chose to come here. Living in France, really immersing myself, is something I’ve always wanted to do. I just never had a reason before. I never… And when I saw the advert, it was like fate, I…’ She let her sentence trail off.
Monique was nodding. ‘Well, I am not glad that this happened to you. But I am glad that you came here.’ She paused a little, her eyes clouding slightly. ‘And I want to let you know that I understand, perhaps, what you have gone through with your family. Because of my mother.’
‘She lied to you?’
‘Non, she did not lie. But I know what it is like when someone you trust, you love, who is meant to love you too, does something terrible. Something that makes you feel broken,’ she tapped her chest briefly. ‘I know it can make you feel very alone.’
Adeline nodded. ‘And you couldn’t forgive your mother?’
