Page 70 of The Little Provence Book Shop
‘Wow,’ she said. ‘So, we’re really here.’
‘Oui,’ Monique said.
‘Are we at the hotel?’ Lili asked, still not quite with them.
‘Soon, baby.’
Luckily, the train had arrived on time, as she’d booked a taxi on an app to meet them outside the station. Once they’d clambered up the steps and found the right exit point, they emerged into strong sunlight and throngs of people, a road heavy with cars and a taxi rank with several silver vehicles lined up in a neat row.
Almost immediately her phone began to ring. Drawing it from her pocket, she checked the screen – an unknown number flashed up. ‘Hello?’ she said.
It was the taxi driver. ‘I’m here,’ he told her.
Almost simultaneously, a black car with a slightly dented back door made its way around the curve of the drop-off area. Adeline recognised the number plate, which had been sent in her confirmation text, and they hurried towards the car, opened the door and sank into the grey leather seats in the back.
‘Grand Hôtel de l’Opéra?’ he asked for confirmation, looking a little confused – as if it were an odd choice of hotel.
‘Oui, merci, Monsieur,’ she said, leaning back in the seat and settling in for the ride.
Two minutes later the taxi pulled up outside a hotel that was an easily walkable distance from the station. ‘Voilà,’he said.
‘Oh. Is that…’ She saw the signage and her question was answered. She felt herself get hot. She’d thought the taxi ride – quoted at eight euros – had seemed very affordable. But that was because, apparently, they’d booked a taxi for a journey that was less than a mile.
Monique let out a small laugh. ‘Mon dieu! I know I am old, but I think even I could have managed to walk here.’
Adeline felt her own laughter bubble up. ‘I know. I don’t think I investigated it properly.’
Lili, looking at the two women laughing, giggled delightedly too. ‘Silly taxi,’ she said.
They stumbled out of the cab, thanking the driver and stood, still smiling, in front of the enormous red and white brick building. Something about the grandeur of the ancient hotel made Adeline’s humour dry up. Its seriousness, or perhaps simply the reminder that they were here and that the next few hours – however they went – would be life-changing.
33
It took her a moment to realise where she was. She sat up in bed, letting the sleep finally filter from her mind, and took in the lush red carpet, the floral scrolled wallpaper, the soft but unfamiliar bed. She checked the time on her phone: 2.58a.m. Much too early to get up.
Shifting down under the covers again, she snuggled into Lili’s sleeping form and tried to switch her mind off. Tomorrow morning, at 11a.m., she was due to meet her mother. She had to get some sleep or she’d be completely wrecked for that important moment.
They’d spent the remaining hours of yesterday finding somewhere to eat and settling into their rooms; she’d tried to read her book, watch the enormous TV, but had felt every minute stretch before her unbearably. She’d longed for sleep, and it had come. But sadly, it had been short-lived.
Unfortunately, her brain seemed not to care much about whether she was tired or out of sorts tomorrow, filtering images and ideas through her mind at alarming speed. What if they didn’t get on? What if they did? What would they talk about?What would she feel like when she walked into the lounge and saw her mother sitting at a table? Would she recognise her? Would they recognise each other? Would there be a bond, something beyond understanding, or the kind of formality you feel when you meet a stranger?
It didn’t matter. None of it mattered right now in this silent room with blackout heavy curtains and luxurious fittings. All that mattered was that she slept, rested for what was to come. She listened to Lili’s regular breathing with envy – her daughter, once asleep, was usually out for the count in a way she could never remember being herself. Sleep came, for her, with a restlessness at the best of times. She doubted she’d be able to drop off again.
She climbed out of bed and went over to the window and quietly pulled the curtain back, allowing a sliver of artificial light to fall into the room. Outside, the road was still busy: cars purred along, people walked in small groups or alone, perhaps coming home from nights out or starting an early shift at work. There was a sense of purpose in the air, similar to that she’d felt in London – as if everyone had somewhere to go, something to do, somewhere to be.
In St Vianne, the houses would be in darkness by now, the inhabitants nestling under a blanket of sleep for a few more hours. Then André would emerge from the flat above the patisserie and begin work, preparing fresh bread and pastries for the day ahead. Gradually lights would appear in windows and, as the sun rose, doors would begin to open and houses would spill their inhabitants into the street for another day.
She wasn’t sure which type of place she most belonged in – the quiet backwater where all was peaceful and people had time to stop and pass the time of day with one another; or thepurposeful city where lights, action and energy seemed to pulse at all times.
Turning, leaving the curtain slightly ajar so that a little light remained in the room, she caught sight of a painting on the wall. A simple oil sketch of a woman in a cafe, her eyes downturned, a coffee cup cradled in her hand. Her face beautiful; sad.
She felt suddenly weary, as if even her chattering brain wouldn’t be able to prevent sleep from coming. Pulling the curtain into place, allowing darkness to plunge into the room, she made her way gingerly to the bed, feeling her way, and climbed under the covers, their warmth making her aware for the first time that she was cold, dressed only in a long T-shirt. She snuggled up to her daughter who turned, moaning slightly, and tucked her little body expertly against her mother’s. At last, Adeline felt her eyelids grow heavy.
‘Mummy! We’re on holidays!’ The little voice made her start and she was aware that the mattress she was on was wobbling wildly. She opened her eyes to find the room light – despite the thick curtains, daylight had found a way around the edges of the material and morning had made its way into their room. She looked up and saw Lili’s excited face and her stomach dipped.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘How exciting!’
Monique had told her she’d take Lili for a walk this morning to look at the river, then to pop into a couple of shops and stop for a pastry somewhere. All the little girl knew was that Mummy was meeting a friend and Monique was taking her for a treat. No wonder she was excited.
