Page 65 of Falling for Provence

‘You’re asking for trouble.’

No. Ellie was asking for a distraction from the trouble she was already in. A way to get through the pain of a heart that was threatening to shatter, like Humpty Dumpty, into too many small pieces to ever be able to be completely put back together again.

‘Send me a copy of the will,’ she begged. ‘Please… So I can, at least, try.’ She wanted to end this conversation before she could be persuaded that her idea was, indeed, crazy. ‘I need to go, Laura. I’ve got a lot of things to do and places to go. While I’ve still got time…’

There was still time to go back to places that would be a part of Ellie’s soul for the rest of her life.

Where it all began, in St Paul de Vence with the mosaic pebble flowers in the streets of the walled village. This time Ellie recorded every variation she could find. She was confident that she would be able to create her own new designs as well, and put together a plan and portfolio for the business she couldn’t wait to start.

She drove Margot alone, for the first time, to one of the beaches near Nice and she and Pascal spent an early morning, before it got too hot, wandering beside the waves, filling a bag with flat, round and oval pebbles that were exactly what she needed. When they found a place to live with space for a studio, Ellie would make her first stepping stones and choose the best one to photograph, or perhaps paint, for her studio logo. She’d choose a font she loved with the name ‘Stone Flowers’ above the image and put a subtitle underneath to capture her inspiration – ‘A touch of France’.

It wasn’t going to be a problem finding suitable stones to work with in Scotland, but she wanted her prototypes to have genuine French stones. Maybe, in years to come, she would feel ready to come back and visit again. It was too soon to be thinking of weighing down her luggage with stones when her heart already felt too heavy, but collecting these few now was a step towards a future that Ellie was trying very hard to embrace.

On the Friday that Julien had come to tell her he was taking Theo to Roquebillière, Ellie had ridden her bicycle into Vence with Pascal in the basket and they’d queued up for socca, like they had the day that Julien had saved the life of that chokingchild and Ellie had known how easy it would be to fall in love with that man.

‘Une part?’ The man at the socca oven had smiled as if he recognised Ellie.

‘Oui.S’il vous plaît.’

‘Le sel et le poivre?’

‘Oui.Merci.’

‘Vous mangez tout de suite?’

‘Bien sûr.’ Ellie had grinned, happy to show off how much her French had improved. ‘C’est si bon.Je veux le manger tout de suite.’

Her words and her accent were probably far from perfect, but the tilt of the man’s head and his smile had made it obvious that he’d understood perfectly well. And that he’d appreciated the compliment about the food.

More than that. It had kind of made her feel like she belonged.

Laura sent through draft copies of the brochure she and Noah were creating for La Maisonette, and Ellie helped choose the photographs to be included. The first must-have was a picture of the little stone house from the road, with Margot visible in the open garage and the iron gate open as an invitation to walk towards the front door, also ajar, under its wreath of yellow roses. Another was the view from the terrace, on which Laura had cleverly adjusted the lighting so that the streak of the Mediterranean could be clearly differentiated from the cloudless summer sky. Ellie wanted to keep the close-up shot of the brass door-knocker, too, because she remembered telling Laura thatit looked new because all it had needed was a bit of love. Like everything else in La Maisonette had.

Including herself?

Aye… including herself.

She’d fallen in love with this little house and its garden. With cobbled flowers and sunsets, the smell of lemons and the sound of the most beautiful language in the world. With a small dog and a tall man and…

There were tears gathering that were very close to falling, but they were happy tears.

Because it wasn’t just this centuries-old, tiny stone house that had come back to life, was it? And okay… maybe the price she would have to pay for this happiness was getting closer every day, but right here, right now, it still felt totally worth it.

She let her breath out in a sigh that felt like one of relief. Because it felt like she was turning a corner.

The photograph that Ellie loved the most wasn’t going to go in the brochure, but she was going to have it framed to go on her bedside table because it managed to encapsulate the most important aspects of what had changed her life so much. At first glance, it was simply a couple of sleepy donkeys under some olive trees and a small white dog with a floppy ear sitting at a respectful distance, watching them. For Ellie, however, there was so much more. She could see the exact spot she’d found Theo asleep that evening and the shape of Julien’s house in the background and… she could still hear the echo of Theo calling herMaman…

She would print a small copy of this particular photograph, and perhaps she could find a heart-shaped frame to enclose it.

There was another photograph that she wanted to keep for ever, as well, although she might not be brave enough to keep it on view in a frame. The one taken by the random tourist who’d been there when she and Julien had taken Margot out for thefirst time and had stopped to admire the view of Tourrettes-sur-Loup. It wasn’t the view of the pretty medieval village in the background that made the photo so precious, though. It was that, while she and Julien were both smiling so happily, neither of them had been looking at the photographer. They were looking at each other.

There was no time to allow herself to sink too far into how much she was leaving behind, however, and every reason to avoid even thinking about it. Distraction was, in fact, remarkably easy because there was so much to sort out. She had the practical details of her trip home to organise, using online maps to plan the long drive. Booking a ferry ticket. Finding out about and organising the requirements for vaccinations and a pet passport for Pascal.

It had been a small reprieve when Laura had passed on information from Noah that, even if they had an offer the first day La Maisonette got put on the market, it could be months before the property would actually change hands due the extensive paperwork and legal requirements for buying and selling property in France. Ellie would have time to think about how to make sure Marguerite and Coquelicot would not get separated and that they could find a home where they would be safe. And loved. Perhaps Julien wouldn’t mind keeping an eye on them for a little while. He’d done it for months, after all, without anyone asking. She would write him a note and leave it in his letter box.

Her last day was rapidly approaching. The date that had been highlighted in her calendar ever since she’d decided how long she would stay.

Till the last summer market.

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