Page 46 of The Little Provence Book Shop
Michel let out a small bark of laughter. ‘Possibly. You never quite know with her. But no matter. We are friends, right? It’s good to bump into each other.’
Adeline felt herself relax. ‘Yes,’ she said.
‘And I did want to talk to you a little,’ he admitted. ‘About the fight I had with Monique. I don’t want you to think I’m a monster!’
‘Goodness, no. Not at all!’
He sipped the last of the coffee and set the tiny cup down next to him. ‘Did she tell you what we fought about?’
Suddenly her cheeks were hot. ‘Oh, no. She hasn’t really said anything. It was just… well, I was only downstairs when it happened. It was… pretty obvious something was up.’
He gave a half-smile. ‘The platter?’
She nodded. ‘The platter.’ They exchanged a grin.
‘It nearly took my bloody head off,’ he said, but he was grinning. ‘Don’t worry, I have fast reflexes. Like a panther!’
She laughed as he held his hands up to resemble claws.
‘Look, I am Monique’s friend,’ he continued. ‘Her family, almost. And I don’t want to betray her. But I think perhaps it is important I tell you what we were fighting about.’
She turned towards him, eyes wide. ‘Oh, no. Don’t. It’s fine. It’s none of my business, I?—’
‘Maisit is your business I think, Adeline. We were fighting about you.’
‘About me?’ Her voice came out louder than expected and Lili looked up with a frown. She smiled at her daughter toreassure her that everything was all right. ‘It’s looking great, darling! I’ll help in a minute.’
‘Oui. About you.’ Michel repeated.
She looked at him and gave a little, almost imperceptible nod, permission to continue.
He sighed. ‘You know already of course that Monique had a baby. Well, when I was there, staying, she confessed to me that she thinks you might be her daughter. That she can feel it.’ He tapped his chest and rolled his eyes as if it were a ridiculous notion.
Everything in Adeline’s body suddenly felt as if it were on high alert. ‘She does?’ Adeline’s heart began to thunder. Because if she was honest, she’d started to have her suspicions too. Had felt something; a connection that seemed to go deeper than she could explain.
He looked at her, his gaze steady.
‘It’s just…’ she said, aware now that she was gabbling a little. ‘I know it’s far-fetched, but I was actually adopted. I don’t know if Monique told you that? And I know that my mother – my birth mum – was French, and very young. And that Monique?—’
‘Non,’ he said. The word was so cold and stark that it cut her off mid-flow and she found herself looking at his face, the clouded expression; his knitted brow. ‘It is not possible. Monique, she is deluding herself. It is a fantasy.’
‘But you don’t know everything!’ she said. ‘Yes, maybe it was too long ago; maybe her baby was born years before I was. But even you must see that there’s a possibility. She’s very vague on the dates. And people have remarked that we’re similar. I… well, I felt something in the shop. A connection. And there’s…’ she stopped abruptly, not quite sure how to explain what had happened with Claude, and how she might share Monique’s strange gift. She wasn’t ready to acknowledge that yet.
He was shaking his head at her and she almost had the urge to shove him. Perhaps Monique’s platter-throwing had been justified after all. What made him the authority on this? It barely concerned him.
He put his hand on her arm and she flinched a little but let it stay. ‘Adeline, I was afraid this might happen. Afraid for you.’
‘Afraid?’
‘Yes. That you might start to hope. That Monique might make you wonder…’ he shook his head. ‘Adeline, I am sorry but even if the timing were right with your age – and it isn’t – I can say with certainty that Monique is not your mother.’
‘How can you be so sure?’
He looked at her, his brown eyes deep pools of sadness, full of pity and honesty. ‘Because, yes, Monique had a baby,’ he said. ‘But Adeline, her baby died.’
22
A couple of days later, halfway through Lili’s holiday week, Adeline was in the shop trying to simultaneously search for books on the Internet and keep an eye on Lili who was drawing at the tiny desk with crayons that could easily ruin a book or a wall if the urge occurred, when her phone pinged with a new email. It was from Kevin.
