Page 57 of The Little Provence Book Shop
Michel laughed. ‘She is persistent!’
‘Yes. Although I don’t think even Monique could haveengineered my falling over,’ she said, grimacing a little as she flexed her ankle.
Michel made a non-committal noise.
‘Seriously?’
He shook his head. ‘No, but sometimes I do wonder…’
It was hard to know whether he was joking or not.
‘So, are you running an errand for Monique too?’ he persisted.
‘Oh, no. I’m actually just trying to distract myself,’ she admitted.
He looked confused.
‘It’s a long story,’ she said.
‘Well, I have time,’ he offered. ‘And I’m sure that Monique won’t mind if you are a little longer than planned. We could get a drink; you can tell me this long story. I am sure Monique would be very happy about this.’ He rolled his eyes and grinned. ‘Let her think her plan is working!’
She smiled. ‘That’s kind of you.’ And she realised that she absolutely needed to tell someone. She couldn’t talk to Monique, not pour salt on her friend’s wounds over and over. And Chris would take hours to update, when she finally managed to get her on the phone. Kevin was also out. But she couldn’t dump all of this on Michel either. She barely knew him.
‘I…’ she began, her mind racing. ‘I just think it’s probably best…’
‘Ah, you do not have to tell me everything if you don’t want,’ he said. ‘But if I am honest, you look as if you need a friend perhaps?’
To her horror, she felt the prickle of tears again. What was wrong with her? It was the kind of thing people said all the time. Only this time it hit hard. Because she really did. And she wasrealising more and more that she didn’t have many people she could talk to. Caring for Mum had pushed friendships out of her life, had taken away thoughts of anything else. Now all she had was the void that was left; the space where her life used to be. And she was lonely.
‘Perhaps a quick coffee…’
They began to walk together, Michel’s hand on her elbow supporting her, braced, she could feel, in case she fell again on her weakened ankle.
Finally, they reached the cafe, and Michel pushed the door open and helped her into a chair, sinking into the one opposite with a sigh.
‘Are you OK?’ she asked.
He laughed. ‘Yes, I’m fine. It is a new thing, this sighing when I sit. Perhaps I am getting old.’
She laughed. ‘I doubt that very much.’
They ordered coffees then sat and sipped, and Adeline felt herself telling him all about her turmoil – how she’d dipped her toe into the pool of possibilities but wasn’t sure if she was ready to take the plunge. And how she was both terrified her mother would reach out, and terrified that she wouldn’t.
‘Basically, I seem to spend half my life being terrified at the moment,’ she said with a self-conscious grin.
He smiled back. ‘I understand. I think anyone in your situation would feel this way.’ He leaned forward slightly. ‘But as I tell my pupils, remember that the times that are the most frightening can also be the most wonderful. When we change, we grow, we learn and we become more the person we were meant to be. And I think there is very little difference between being afraid and being excited.’
Adeline thought of the phone tucked under the counter at work, the photo online of her birth mother. The fact that at any moment she could make contact. It was terrifying.
But Michel was right. It was exciting too.
‘Thank you,’ she said.
They were just finishing up when the door opened and André came in, laden with white boxes from the patisserie. He walked to the counter and set them down, exchanging a few words with the manager, then turned to leave. Catching sight of the pair of them for the first time, he smiled and walked over. Michel rose to greet him, then gestured to Adeline. ‘You already know each other, I think.’
‘A little,’ André said, smiling in Adeline’s direction but not quite making eye contact.
‘Yes. Not always in great circumstances,’ Adeline admitted. ‘I’m sorry I knocked into you that time.’
