Page 28 of The Little Provence Book Shop
It was cooler today, and as she exited onto the pavement, she pulled her cardigan more closely around her and wondered how she was going to spend the next two hours before her ride home was due. A cafe seemed her best bet, and she took a moment to peruse the few along the street she was on beforeselecting one with a burgundy awning and outside tables with a few scattered customers inside.
She was just walking towards the door when a woman came up to her, smiling in recognition. ‘Bonjour!’ she said.
‘Bonjour,’ Adeline replied uncertainly.
‘You do not recognise me!’ The woman seemed unfazed. ‘I’m Catherine. Catherine Dupont. You served me in the shop.’
‘Oh, sorry.’ Adeline felt a prickle of heat in her cheeks. ‘It’s been so busy… I…’
‘No matter. I just wanted to say, I’m just so pleased that you’ve come.’
‘You are?’
‘Yes. I couldn’t say it in the shop, with Monique there. But she has been lonely.’
‘Oh, poor Monique.’
‘Yes. Of course she has friends, but family is so important. I heard that Monique had a daughter and I always wanted to meet you.’ Catherine smiled widely. ‘It’s nice for Monique to have you here, I’m sure.’
‘Oh,’ Adeline said. ‘I’m not… I just work for her. I’m not Monique’s daughter.’
Catherine’s kohl-framed eyes registered confusion. ‘Oh. But I was so sure. And… well, you seem so alike…’ she trailed off, her cheeks flushing a little.
‘Don’t worry. An easy mistake to make.’
‘Yes. Perhaps. Maybe I’ve been reading too many books! But I could have sworn Monique said…’ She put a finger to her lips. ‘Ah, no matter. I’m sorry to disturb you.’
‘Not at all.’
Once Catherine had turned and continued along the pavement, Adeline walked into the cafe, breathing the scent of freshly ground coffee, and feeling the warmth of the interiorbegin to penetrate her thin cardigan. Her hands felt slightly shaky – something about the encounter with Catherine had upset her.
Stepping past the counter with an apologetic wave, she slipped into the toilet and locked the door. Inside was a fairly large, tiled room with a loo, sink and a large mirror. She leaned on the sink and looked at herself in the glass. Her hair hung as always, straight and neat, a few inches above her shoulders. Nothing like Monique’s curls. Dark eyes, but without that extraordinary depth that Monique’s seemed to have. Her face – all she could see was Adeline. She couldn’t make out a shadow of Monique.
So why had Catherine been so sure?
As far as she knew, Monique didn’t have any relatives other than her sister, her mother, and the baby she’d given away all those years ago. A baby who would be decades older than Adeline. There was no way they were related. She rinsed her hands and splashed a little water on her face then made her way back to the counter. She ordered achocolat chaudand took the tall glass balanced on a small saucer to one of the empty tables towards the back of the seating area to finally begin the arduous process of resetting her social media passwords.
Two hours later Grégoire picked her up, and after another conversation about livestock, she was dispatched close to the shop and, with a thankful wave, watched him disappear around the corner. Then she pushed the door of the bookshop open, inhaling its familiar scent and feeling that she was absolutely in the right place; it had started to feel like home.
Monique wasn’t behind the counter, but on hearing the bell, began to come down from her flat, her small heels clicking on the wooden stairs.
‘It’s only me, Monique!’
‘Ah,bonjour!’ came the reply. Monique appeared bit by bit: shoes, ankles, the folds of her skirt, until she emerged whole onto the shop floor. She came over and greeted Adeline with a kiss on each cheek. ‘I hope you have your phone?’
‘Yes, back on the grid.’ Adeline grinned.
‘And that you did not hear too much about sheep and cows,’ Monique added with a mischievous look.
Adeline laughed. ‘Well, put it this way, I know more than I’ll ever need to. But thank you, too, for arranging the lift. It saved me a fortune, and a bit of rural conversation was a small price to pay.’
Monique smiled. ‘Bon,’ she said. She began to tell Adeline about an order that had come in, and how she was thinking of investing in a new, spinning book stand for the centre of the shop – one to contain new arrivals to catch the eye of customers.
Adeline couldn’t help looking at Monique’s face as she spoke, trying to see any similarity with her own. Something about the lips, perhaps? The eyebrows? But nothing that seemed overtly like a shared feature. She wondered again about Catherine, what had made her jump to the conclusion she had.
‘…in the catalogue,’ Monique finished. Then her brow furrowed. ‘But you are not listening!’
Adeline shook herself slightly. ‘I am!’ she said. ‘I’m sorry. Just a bit distracted. But I got the gist…’ She felt herself flush.
