Page 65 of The Little Provence Book Shop
Lili turned from the mirror and began trying to pull the dress down over her arms. ‘Finished,’ she said.
‘Oh, don’t rip it!’ Adeline cried. ‘Come here, sweetheart.’
Lili came over obediently and raised her arms to help Adeline slip off her dress. As soon as she was back in her former outfit of leggings and a T-shirt, she sat on the chaise longue and started bouncing slightly.
‘Lili! Don’t!’ Adeline found herself shouting.
But Monique shook her head. ‘Ah, let her,’ she said. ‘It is only furniture. It’s not important.’
To hear Monique say this about her precious chaise longue was more than a shock. Lili’s face cracked open with a smile and she continued to jiggle, delighted that her behaviour had been endorsed.
‘Still, you don’t want it ruined,’ Adeline said.
‘Right now, I could not care less about it.’ She turned to Adeline, her eyes shining, the smile on her face full and genuine. ‘Because the thing I hoped for more than anything has happened. My baby is alive. The furniture, it really doesn’t matter.’
Adeline smiled, their eyes locking. She wondered what had led to this sudden optimism, but perhaps it was the fact that she was meeting Sophia – perhaps she’d inspired Monique to hope. Whatever it was, it could not be a bad thing.
After reading the message from her birth mother, Adeline had found herself closing her email screen and putting away her phone. It was hard to know exactly what to do, what to say. What exactly she wanted to happen next. Then, before she’d had time to form a proper reply, another message had arrived.
Adeline, I know this must be difficult for you. I imagine you might have complicated feelings towards me. Perhaps my earlier message didn’t acknowledge that. I realise we have a lot to learn about each other, that things might not be easy. It is just that I have waited so long to find you that it was impossible not to be filled with joy at your message. Then I thought about it and realised that you don’t know your story. You don’t know why I had to give you up. Perhaps you hate me for this? I understand if you are not sure whether youwant to see me. But I would love the opportunity to talk, to explain. To at least put to rest some of the things that I’ve carried with me for so long. I hope we can find a way. Sophia.
She’d replied at last:
Hi Sophia, thank you for understanding. It is difficult. My lovely adoptive mum died recently, and I only just learned about my adoption. So it’s all very new. I would like to see you though. Shall I come to Toulouse?
She’d forced herself to press ‘Send’ before she changed her mind. And, although it would involve some travelling, she’d chosen to go to her mother rather than the other way around, as it gave her more control. She didn’t have to reveal her exact whereabouts to this stranger if it turned out she didn’t want to know her. She could control the length of time she stayed, when she arrived, when she left. It seemed better this way.
Afterwards, she’d tried to compose an email to Kevin. It had felt confessional. As if she’d done something to hurt them both and had to apologise for it. Every time she’d composed a sentence, a stumbling paragraph, she’d deleted it almost immediately. She simply couldn’t find the words. Maybe it was better to tell him afterwards, when she knew exactly what her situation was.
The two days that had passed between then and now had been a blur. Thankfully the shop had been busy – there were more and more tourists locally, many flocking to the shop for English language titles. Their book recommendations had become more ordinary – based on a person’s potential enjoyment rather than anything more therapeutic.
Still, whenever the shop had grown quiet and she’d looked at Monique, feeling that this could be the moment to tell her boss about the trip she planned to make, it had felt like the wrong time. She’d talked about benign things such as the weather, or books, or the fact that Claude – who’d been back to the shop several times – was looking so much better.
She still hadn’t thought what she might tell Lili about it all. Her daughter was oblivious to her recent discoveries – she hadn’t wanted to upset or confuse her. Now, thinking about Monique’s offer to babysit, she realised how important it would be to have some time alone with Sophia to talk properly. And to have the option, if things didn’t go well, to choose not to introduce her child to this complicated part of their history.
She looked again at Lili who had now slumped on the chaise longue, passing from full energy to almost unconsciousness in the way only little children can.
‘Think I’d better get this one home,’ she said, nodding at her daughter.
Monique looked and smiled. ‘Yes, perhaps.’
‘Thank you. You know, for the costume. For everything, really.’
‘It is OK.’ Monique paused. ‘That is what family is for.’
30
It was raining. Adeline felt a little guilty as she rushed along the road with Lili who, even wrapped in her shiny yellow raincoat, was getting her face and exposed legs soaked. They passed the market, its usually colourful awnings dripping with relentless moisture – a few sad, soggy people with baskets and raincoats, or clutching umbrellas, perused the stands behind which stallholders shivered and hugged themselves.
Hopefully at least, she thought, rounding the bend and finally coming to a halt in front of the shop, it would be a quiet morning – she’d have time to collect her thoughts and speak to Monique about their trip tomorrow.
An hour later, she was kicking herself for having tempted fate. While the rain had driven people away from the open-air stalls, it seemed to have driven more people than ever into the bookshop. Some browsed, sheltering from the rain and with no intention of buying, others looked more seriously. The window at the front became thick with condensation, the umbrella stand by the door heaving with damp nylon.
Lili was restless, bored of the books, wanting to go outsideand splash in puddles and resisting any inducement to go up to the flat and play with something there. She clung to Adeline, whinging and complaining, and Adeline found herself being short with her, then feeling guilty – after all, who really wanted to spend Saturday morning at their mum’s workplace?
In the end, Monique managed to prise Lili from Adeline’s leg and entice her up to the flat with the promise of some cartoons on her laptop and – the clincher – some of Monique’s patisserie-bought madeleines. Adeline smiled as the woman took Lili’s hand and walked with her up the wooden staircase, disappearing from view. She turned back to the customer in front of her, determined to give her full attention and feeling some of the stress she’d experienced draining away.
She even managed to recommend a book for Claude, who popped in and expressed a desire for detective fiction, and sold a collection of short stories to a woman with a stern face who wanted a light read.
