Page 50 of The Little Provence Book Shop
‘I hope you won’t be too cross with her? I think she means well,’ Michel said.
‘I’m sure. But even so…’
‘Yes. Even so. Well, don’t worry. I will be more suspicious next time she makes a suggestion.’
They grinned at each other in their mutual frustration. ‘I was going to ask if you wanted to walk back to the store with me – I have had some books delivered I need to collect. But perhaps you want to stay here, especially as it might please Monique too much to think her plan is working?’
‘Actually, I probably ought to get back,’ she said. ‘I’ll walk with you. Monique can think what she likes.’
She stood, stretched and gave Lili a little wave as she lifted her bag onto her shoulder and turned to join him on the path.
‘I hope I didn’t upset you – when I told you about Monique, about her baby, I mean?’ he said, as they walked, his eyes fixed on the road ahead.
She shook her head. ‘Oh, no. It was better to know. I’ve spoken to Monique and…’ she trailed off, wondering how to put the next part into words. ‘Well, everything’s OK,’ she said.
‘Bon. Good.’
The silence returned, starting off comfortably but then began to stretch into awkwardness. Next to her Michel shuffled slightly and cleared his throat. ‘Do you ever think about finding your own mother?’ he asked suddenly, posing the question into the silence. He reddened. ‘Sorry, perhaps that is too personal.’
She looked at him briefly. ‘It’s OK,’ she said. ‘Yes, I did. I do. I’ve only known for a few weeks.’
‘Ah oui?’ he seemed surprised by this. ‘That must have been a great shock.’
She nodded. ‘It was. My mother, the mum who adopted me, died without ever telling me.’
Michel let out a breath at the enormity of what Adeline was going through. ‘Wow. I understand it must be incredibly hard.’
‘Just a bit.’
‘You’re actually the first person I’ve spoken to about this,’ she admitted, slightly embarrassed. ‘Other than Monique and my brother of course.’
‘C’est vrai?’ He seemed surprised. ‘Then I am honoured.’
She laughed, briefly. ‘Thanks,’ she said, wanting to add that he might not be if she let it all spill out, everything she’d been carrying inside her since her arrival. She’d pushed it down and focused on work and France and, for a while, her suspicions about Monique. But the thoughts and questions had become so big that sometimes they overwhelmed her.
In previous years, she’d have discussed things with her best friend, Chris. They’d worked together at the school and would sit together at lunchtime putting the world to rights over lacklustre sandwiches. But then Adeline had been swallowed up into the world of caring, which took up every free hour she had. Something had been lost between them.
She could talk to Kevin of course. And she knew he’d listen. But he was Mum’s son. He had feelings she didn’t want to hurt; might not understand her inner conflict.
Michel was safe – partly because she felt instinctively that he’d understand, but also because it didn’t really matter if he didn’t. ‘I’ve actually done a DNA test recently,’ she admitted. ‘I haven’t mentioned it because, well, I suppose I’m trying not to think about it too much.’
‘But that is exciting!’ he exclaimed.
‘Yes. I haven’t had the results back. And it might lead to nothing. I mean, there’s no way of knowing if my birth mum will have done a test too, or any of her relations. But it might be a start to things,’ she said, shrugging to convey a nonchalance she didn’t feel.
‘You must be nervous to wait for the results.’
‘Terrified.’
‘Oui, j’imagine.’ He lightly patted her back in a motion of comfort.
‘My brother, Kevin, gave me the idea. I’d kind of assumed that if my mother had put me up for adoption it would mean she wouldn’t want me to trace her. So when I did the test, I didn’t have much hope of making contact, not really. But since sending it off I’ve spoken to Monique, I’ve seen her pain. Knowing how she regrets giving up her baby.’ She lifted a shoulder. ‘It changed me. I realised that maybe my mother was similar – perhaps she hadn’t wanted to give me up either. Maybe she would want me to find her.’
He nodded. ‘Yes. I hope so for you.’
‘Thank you.’
They reached the main high street now and the terraced houses began to merge into stone-fronted shops. Some – aboucherie, a smallgalerie– were boarded up, their signs faded. But others had lights on and life inside. At the patisserie, she could see André organising the window display and he gave them a wide smile.