Page 66 of The Little Provence Book Shop
It was close to midday when the post arrived. Usually, the postwoman would deliver to the box just outside, but today she brought the letters into the shop, already peppered with raindrops. ‘Your box has a leak,’ she explained. ‘They would have been ruined.’
‘Oh, thanks. I’ll tell Monique,’ Adeline said, taking the pile of letters from her.
She sorted out the bills, letters addressed to the shop, and put a couple of leaflets into the recycling box. Then she placed the pile next to the computer, nudging the mouse.
The screen lit up with Monique’s email inbox – she must have forgotten to log out. Leaning in, she grabbed the mouse and moved the cursor to the ‘x’ at the edge of the screen to close it for her. Then stopped when her eye caught a familiar company name in the list of new emails received. It was theDNA company, and the heading read ‘Thank you for your enquiry.’
Had Monique decided to do a test too?
Adeline resolved not to say anything, unless Monique mentioned it herself. But it was hard not to feel her heart fill with hope for her friend. If Monique’s baby was still out there, if she was able to make contact, it would be truly wonderful.
She was smiling at the thought when the bell rang and André walked into the shop carrying a white cardboard box emblazoned with the name of the patisserie. ‘Bonjour,’ he smiled.
‘Salut.’ She felt herself prickle with energy, as she always did when he was close. A kind of electrical charge. Something magical.
He lay the box on the counter. ‘Something sweet for you,’ he said grinning.
‘Thank you.’ She peeped in to see the glisten of a strawberry tart – her favourite.
‘And later? We can have a glass of wine?’ he asked.
She nodded. In truth it wasn’t the ideal timing, with her trip booked for tomorrow. But she was loathe to put it off – she was tired of putting things on hold, wanted to embrace this forward motion that had suddenly come into her life.
By now the rain had cleared, but the saturated streets still glistened with moisture. André gently touched the top of her arm and nodded. ‘À tout à l’heure,’he said. ‘See you later.’
The shop was silent once he’d left. It was ten to twelve so, rather than sit and overthink things, she decided to turn the sign to ‘Closed’ and make her way up to the apartment to see whether Monique was all right, or whether she needed rescuing from Lili. She resolved to look into other childcare options if they decided to stay here beyond her trial period. What hadseemed simple in principle – Lili sitting and reading or drawing in the shop when not at school – was in practice becoming a bit more complicated.
She knocked lightly on the half-open door then made her way into the hallway. She saw Lili, sitting on the chaise longue, shoes still on, watching Monique’s laptop which was balanced on a small table, transfixed by the colourful cartoons that played out their make-believe on screen. Monique was nowhere to be seen.
Walking further, Adeline peered into the little kitchenette, its surface cluttered with coffee cups and a half-filled pot. But nothing.
‘Monique?’ she said softly, walking forward and pushing open the door that led to her bedroom. She found her friend sitting on the bed, her shoes slipped off, her legs crossed in their long floral skirt. When Adeline entered, Monique jumped to her feet almost guiltily. She was holding her phone and a piece of paper, her mouth a straight line, her brow furrowed.
‘Sorry!’ Adeline apologised. ‘I didn’t mean to interrupt. Do you have a headache?’
‘Oui,’ she said, putting her hand to her head as if to demonstrate. ‘It is too much coffee, perhaps. Or maybe too little.’ She tried to smile, but her face was pinched.
‘Is everything… else OK?’
‘I just have a lot in my own head right now, but sometimes it is not the right time to talk.’
Adeline nodded. ‘I know what you mean. It can be overwhelming, can’t it?’ She thought again of Sophia’s email, of the address she now had recorded in her phone. Of the tickets she’d printed out for tomorrow’s journey. ‘If you do want to though,’ she added, ‘I’m always here.’
‘Ah, thank you.’ Monique said. This time when their eyesmet, Adeline noticed that Monique’s were swimming with tears. ‘You are truly a godsend. I will talk. I will. Just, when I know what the words are.’
Adeline nodded. ‘“Saying nothing sometimes says the most”,’ she found herself saying.
Monique barked out a single laugh. ‘Dickinson?’
‘Yes,’ Adeline grinned.
She walked a few more steps into the room and tentatively touched Monique’s shoulders, then pulled her into a hug. To her surprise, Monique pulled her arms around Adeline’s back and held her tightly for a moment. There was that energy, the fizz she remembered from last time. As if every part of Monique were magic, as if there were something flowing from her that connected with Adeline in some inexplicable way.
The sun outside the window, already becoming stronger as it freed itself from behind the tangle of clouds, began to shine in earnest, rays escaping from their waterlogged prison and beginning the work of drying the cobbled street, the shop awnings, the cars and people soaked by the morning’s rain. It was nature, coincidence, not magic; yet there was something magical about it, as if the weather had decided to send her a message – that no matter what storms life threw at her, the sun would always emerge eventually from its hiding place.
Adeline hadn’t met her birth mother yet, so had no idea what feelings that meeting might evoke in her, but right now, at this moment, she realised that even if things fell apart in Toulouse, she’d found someone – not a mother, exactly, but someone who was becoming part of the family she was creating for herself.
She thought back to when Michel had described Monique as ‘family, but not my blood family’ and realised it was true. Kevin, Monique, and even the mother who’d raised her – noneof these people were connected to her via DNA. Yet all of them were as important to her as any family could be.
