Page 48 of The Little Provence Book Shop
When the door closed, she looked up to see Monique smiling at her. At her feet, Lili had laid the new books out in a line and was carefully inspecting the first one, taking her choice seriously.
‘Ça va?’ Adeline asked, after a beat.
‘Oui,’ Monique smiled. ‘It just makes me happy that you are so good with the customers. That you have a gift.’
Adeline shook her head. ‘Oh, this wasn’t…that,’ she said, not quite knowing how to put in words the way in which she’d recommended a book to Claude. Instinctive perhaps? Looking back, it seemed bizarre at best, and in all honesty she was trying to forget it had ever happened. ‘I just… she’s English and we had a good chat – her French isn’t good – and I was able to recommend something for her to read, based on her preferences. That’s all.’ She smiled, tightly, and turned back to her screen.
But she could feel Monique’s eyes still on her. And when she looked up again, the woman was still staring at her, the same sliver of a smile gracing her face.
‘Monique!’ she said.
‘I’m sorry.’ Her boss shook her head. ‘I was dreaming.’
‘It’s OK.’
Monique walked over to the counter, her floral skirt swishing at her calves. ‘I think it’s so wonderful you came to work here. Like it was fate, perhaps.’
Adeline had thought the same herself from time to time, but hearing the words aloud, teamed with the look Monique had given her, made her shoulders tense. ‘Yes, well, I really enjoy it.’
‘And you have a gift! Ah yes, I know that you will say you do not. That you just listen and recommend books like a librarian. But deep inside, I think you know that it is more than that. That you can read people, just like I can.’
‘Honestly, it’s not…’
‘And to have found someone else who has this… instinct, it is a wonderful thing for me.’
Adeline glanced up to see that Monique was once again smiling at her, fingering the moonstone at her neck, her eyes full of emotion. She turned away from the keyboard and looked at her. Because this had to stop. It really had to.
‘Monique,’ she said slowly. ‘I saw Michel on Sunday.’
‘Oh, was he well?’ she asked. ‘Where did you go?’
‘We bumped into each other. On the beach.’ Adeline watched Monique’s face to see if there was a reaction. ‘We got to talking.’ She dropped her voice to a near whisper, aware of Lili’s almost supersonic hearing. ‘And we spoke about his argument with you.’
Two spots of colour appeared on Monique’s neck. ‘But that is all forgotten!’ she said, her volume matching Adeline’s.
‘Yes. Yes, he told me you were both OK now,’ Adeline confirmed. She took a breath. ‘But he mentioned something that… worried me a bit.’
‘Ah oui?’
‘Yes, Monique.’
A silence descended over them. Lili picked up one of the books and walked decisively to the window. Otherwise, nothing moved; Adeline could feel her heart thundering. Clearly Monique wasn’t going to help her out here.
‘He told me that he was worried you’d begun to imagine I was your daughter,’ she said at last, forcing the words out.
Monique turned her face sharply towards the far wall, as if preoccupied with something there.
‘But you know that’s not possible, don’t you, Monique?’ she added gently, feeling horribly cruel.
She watched the woman’s face, usually graced with a smile, crumple in front of her. Monique put a hand up to hide her expression, and her shoulders slumped. She made a sound, a tiny almost indistinguishable cry.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Adeline said. ‘I know how hard it is to want to believe something. I know how hard it is to feel that ache for someone. But I needed to say it. Because I think Michel might be right. I think perhaps on some level you were starting to believe it.’ She felt suddenly as if she might be sick – a prickle of sweat traced her brow. She put her arm across Monique’s shoulders. ‘EvenIhad thought… well, imagined I felt something between us before I found out that your baby… About what happened,’ she said, trailing off. Monique was standing still, her eyes fixed on a point beyond Adeline’s shoulder, at the rows and rows of books, their spines glistening in the light.
‘You’re right,’ Monique agreed eventually, her voice so quiet that Adeline had to lean down to hear her properly. ‘It is impossible. I know this. But it seems that my heart does not know. And I suppose just sometimes I allowed myself to dream…’
‘Oh, Monique.’
‘No. It is stupid. I am a silly old woman.’ She batted Adeline’s arm away and straightened up. She took a deep breath.
