Page 49 of The Little Provence Book Shop
‘I thought I had felt the deepest pain possible when I gave my child to another woman and watched her being taken away from me. I didn’t sleep for days, I couldn’t eat. Even my parents began to worry. I was just sixteen but I was running out of reasons to live.’
Adeline touched Monique’s arm and this time she wasn’t shrugged away.
‘But in time it got better. I began to get up, and go to school and I told myself I would be OK. Because the moment I was old enough I would find her. And we would be together again. Oh, I know, I was young and stupid. I did not realise that sometimes this is impossible; that they make it impossible.’ Monique turned her eyes towards Adeline now and they were shining. ‘But before I found this out for myself, my mother sat me down and told me that my baby had died. That she had caught a fever and it had been too much for her little body. And this pain, the pain I felt then in my heart, I was worried it might tear me in half.’
Monique paused and took a deep breath. ‘That’s when I ran. And over time, I learned to live again. Learned to forget. Staying in a new place, breaking ties with my past. It was my way to cope. But every day I find I think of her still – and my heart knows that if the baby had been with me, she would not have died. I would have known she was sick sooner, taken her to the hospital more quickly. Because she wasmine,’ she said, her voice louder now, emphatic. ‘Mybaby. And I was her mother. And that is why I will never forgive my mother for what she did. Not until the day I die.’
Adeline watched her silently, then, cautious as if approaching an animal that might dart away, she reached outand gave her a hug. They gripped onto each other tightly, both overcome. ‘I’m so sorry,’ Adeline said. ‘I can’t even imagine…’
‘This is why…’ Monique pulled away and flicked the tears from her face as if dismissing her emotions. ‘This is why I let myself dream, just a little. This is why I believed my heart knew you when we first met. And I decided that fate had brought us together. That somehow my baby was still alive; my mother had been given the wrong information. It was a delusion. But such a beautiful one, I allowed myself to have it, just for a little while.’
Adeline nodded. ‘Of course,’ she said, slightly guilty to have forced Monique to bring the dream out in front of them both and expose it to the light. ‘I…’ she began.
But at that moment, two things happened. Lili raced across the shop, oblivious to the emotional trauma happening just next to the counter, and excitedly showed Monique her choice for the window display. At the same time, the bell jangled as three customers entered the shop, chattering happily. The moment was broken, the heaviness began to dissipate from the air. Adeline took a breath and stepped into her work mode, feeling the weight of everything set aside for now. Looking at Monique, hand in hand with Lili by the window, she could sense the woman had done the same.
23
The park in the local town was a large expanse of grass, with a corner given over to children’s playground equipment: a small climbing frame made of metal, a wobbly bridge which stretched over a dip, a slide that descended from the end of the climbing frame and a couple of carved wooden animals set on springs.
While the shop was quiet, Adeline had asked to go and sit at the edge of the space, knowing that Lili would be there playing with some of the children from the holiday playscheme run by the local school. She’d taken a book with her, but had left it closed on her lap as she watched her child, with six others, swarm over the equipment, laughing and running and shouting with complete abandon. It was hard not to smile.
When Adeline had seen Lili, she’d assumed her daughter would run over. But instead, she’d given her a subtle wave and grin before disappearing with the children. Once in a while, she’d look up to make sure Adeline was watching, and they’d exchanged looks and thumbs ups at the end of a particularly brave climb, and after a turn on the swings where she’d gone higher than ever before.
It was pleasant, sitting in the warm air, smelling pollen on the breeze and watching the children play. She took a deep breath of the fresh air and released it, trying to relax her shoulders as she’d been taught during a yoga and meditation class she’d attended back in London. Her practice had lapsed since her move and her muscles felt tight, her shoulders hunched. True, she needed the class less now, away from the relentless stress she’d felt back then – a combination of teaching, caring and single parenting – but she made a mental note to try to find something local to attend before she seized up completely.
Leaning back to stretch out her shoulders, Adeline looked across the grass in the other direction, where a stone building marked the edge of the common ground. There was a pathway stretching from one side of the park to the other, and locals would often use it as a cut-through on their daily walks, sometimes with dogs on a lead or sniffing interestedly in their wake. Today there was a man pushing his bike, the basket straining with groceries, and another with a baguette under his arm – it was a common sight in St Vianne, but one that still felt like something out of a cartoon – then her eyes focused on another man, something familiar in his movements. His face was hidden behind a small paperback he was somehow managing to read as he walked along. She wondered whether it was wise to read and walk, especially so close to the small river that flowed on the far side of the path.
As the man grew closer his features came into focus and she snatched her gaze away, embarrassed; she hadn’t expected to see Michel and half hoped he hadn’t noticed her. But when she allowed her eyes to wander back to him, she realised that he was crossing the grass towards her, book at his side and a wide smile on his face.
‘Hello!’ he called out.
‘Bonjour. What are you doing here?’ She hadn’t quite meant her words to sound so sharp, so followed them with a grin. ‘I mean, you’re not usually…’
He laughed. ‘I’m making a delivery for Monique. She called and asked me to take an invoice to a customer who lives close to my flat. It is no worry. It was actually her who suggested I walk through the park – it’s a nice day. She is always sure that I am working too hard.’ He made a mock sad face, then broke into a broad grin.
She glanced at his book. It was a French one she hadn’t heard of,Matin Brun. ‘Any good?’
He smiled. ‘Mais oui. It is one I often recommend to my students. You must try it.’
‘I don’t know how you do it.’
‘What? Teaching? Working in the holidays?’
‘No, walk along and read at the same time. Isn’t it a bit dangerous?’
He laughed. ‘Maybe. But not illegal, like drinking and driving. And better than looking at your phone all the time like my students.’
‘True,’ she said. She thought of herself in London, always buried in her phone, walking, queueing, sitting on the bus. Somehow being without it for a few weeks had broken the habit and she was trying as much as she could not to slip back into her old ways.
Something occurred to her. ‘Sorry, but it was Monique who suggested you walk through the park?’
‘And she knew that you would be here,’ he said, picking up her train of thought. ‘Ah,merde. My aunt, she is always meddling!’
‘So now you think it might be intentional?’
He nodded. ‘Ah, Monique. She cannot understand that I amalone because that is what is right for me at the moment. She thinks I am shy. Or hopeless in love.’
Adeline shook her head. She wasn’t sure whether to be amused or angry.
