Page 5 of The Little Provence Book Shop
‘I… well, I like books, I guess. Love them, I mean.’
This too seemed to amuse Monique. ‘But of course. But what is yourpassion?’
‘Well, I’m here to improve my French. To… I started a Master’s years ago and… well, it didn’t work out,’ Adeline felt herself stumble over the words. ‘I did teacher training though, then taught French…’ she trailed off.
Monique was silent for a moment, studying Adeline’s face. Then she nodded as if coming to a decision. ‘Well, this is a start. A purpose. We can talk more in the future. When you are ready. Or perhaps when you know yourself a little better.’ She sipped her espresso. ‘And you can recommend books to people?’
‘Yes, of course. And I’ll try to read more while I’m here. I’d like to…’ Adeline wanted to ask Monique what she meant aboutknowing herself better. Was it a slight? Or had she misunderstood Monique’s rapid French?
Monique leaned towards her, the moonstone swinging on its delicate chain. ‘Yes, yes, this is all good,’ she said. ‘But what I hope you will learn is not simply to fulfil orders for people or to find – perhaps – the latest crime thriller or a book they must read at school. I hope you will start to find out how to select the right book for customers,’ she patted her bosom with the flat of her hand. ‘From here. From the heart.’
‘Oh. Well. I mean. Of course. I’ll try to…’
‘Non,’ Monique said firmly. ‘You must nottry. You mustfeel.’ She looked at Adeline’s face, a little mischief in her eyes. ‘I can see that you try, that you want so much for things. It is an effort, yes? But here, I hope you will learnnotto try, toforce, but tolive, tobe, to tune in.’ She tapped a finger against her head to emphasise the point, found one of the tucked-in pens, removed it.
‘OK…?’ Adeline began to wonder whether she might have made a bit of a mistake. Clearly, she knew the little independent bookshop in an obscure French village wasn’t going to operate like Waterstones. But she had thought she would understand what was expected of her.
Monique was delighted by her hesitant response. ‘Ah, you are like the others! When I first came here, many years ago, they called me a witch. Said I was crazy. But they have come to understand that the right book is more than just a tale to entertain,non? The right book can heal us, can speak to us and help us to be well.’
‘It can? I mean, yes, I’m sure,’ Adeline stuttered.
They both sipped their coffee, eyeing each other over the porcelain. ‘And they said,’ Adeline added, rather nervously, ‘thatyou were a witch?’ She tried to laugh, but the sound that came out was more like a monosyllabic whimper. ‘Why… why would they think that?’
Monique’s eyes sparkled. ‘People think what they wish. It is their right.’
‘Of course, but…’
‘Ah, you will see.’ Monique stood and Adeline followed suit. ‘Some of my methods are perhaps a little unusual. But they work. Maybe some people would call them spiritual, unusual, even strange,’ she leaned forward a little. ‘And yes, sometimes there is a little magic involved. But eventually people have come to realise that whatever I do, it is good, it comes from a place of love. Because in La Petite Librairie we do not always give our customers what they want. But we always find them what they need.’
3
Dear Addy,
I’m not sure when you’ll be able to pick up your emails, but hopefully this will reach you OK. Your mobile phone isn’t working – I assume you need to get a French one? Please let me have the new number as soon as you do. We really need to talk. Chris has been asking about you – she was really worried. Well, we all are.
I’ve been thinking about what you said. About needing more from life. About the fact you’ve never fit in. But don’t you think it might just be finding those papers that has made you feel that way? You never seemed unhappy before.
I get that you need to ‘find yourself.’ But do you really think moving to a French backwater is going to do that for you?
You need to come home. Not for me. But for YOU. I get it, why you did what you did. You want answers. But Addy, there won’t be any answers there.
You’re in shock, maybe. But the last thing you should beright now is alone. You’re grieving – we both are… Just please get on a plane and we’ll sort this out together.
Kev
4
Standing behind the counter, Adeline ran her hands over the worn wood, feeling the grooves left by years of customers and servers, passing goods, taking money. Monique had said that before she’d arrived, the shop had been a clothing store – and Adeline tried to imagine what it might have looked like. But it was impossible. Surrounded by books – almost bathing in their smell, texture and the colour radiating from their leather- or paper-bound spines, it was impossible to imagine that La Petite Librairie had had a life before Monique. Sometimes, too, only two days in, Adeline felt so divorced from her own life back in England that it was hard to picture what London was like without her. Her flat, sublet to a friend of her cousin. Her favourite cafe, missing a regular customer – although of course, with the constant stream of trade, she wouldn’t be missed.
Yesterday, she’d gone with Lili to themairie toregister her for school and had been surprised at the ease of the process. A small form to complete, information to provide – a copy of Lili’s passport and some health information – and she was told her daughter could start the next day. ‘Isn’t that wonderful!’ she’dsaid to Lili, feeling something inside her crack at the thought of their imminent separation, but displaying only a smile on the outside. It wouldn’t help Lili to show she was afraid for her.
In the end she needn’t have been, she thought now, looking out over the empty courtyard with its rather forlorn fountain, and beyond to the little Café des Sports where several locals moved beyond the glass. Lili had dropped her hand the minute they’d entered the playground and rushed ahead. Adeline had lingered at the edge of the tarmacked surface, not sure exactly what to do, until a woman in jeans with a wide smile had told her she’d take it from here. It was exactly what she’d hoped – Lili was unafraid, rushing towards the opportunity to lose herself with other youngsters. But it was a bit insulting, too, to be dumped so readily. One tear, or a small backward glance, would have been nice, she’d thought, shaking her head, amused.
The bell tinkling broke her train of thought and she stretched her lips into a smile as an old woman made her way into the store. ‘Bonjour, Madame.’
‘Bonjour.’ The woman looked at Adeline with interest, her brown eyes sharp and youthful within the walnut grooves of her face. She was wearing a scarf tied around her head, a little like women had worn in the fifties back in England, and a long navy raincoat. She carried an empty canvas bag, which sported a picture of oranges and apples. Adeline watched as the woman eyed the new releases on one of the front tables, before making her way to the counter. ‘You’re new,’ she said simply.
‘Yes.’
