Page 8 of Falling for Provence

‘Voilà.’

‘Ohh…’ Ellie pressed her hand to her open mouth. So this was Laura’s surprise? It was… fabulous. Her family might be a long way away, but this felt like an encouraging hug. She wasn’t really alone, was she? Her lips curved into a smile that wobbled a little. ‘It’s… beautiful.’

Her reaction seemed to have diffused the atmosphere. The waiting driver was climbing out of his car to peer into the truck himself.

‘Oh là là,’ he exclaimed.

It was the first time Ellie had heard the exclamation, which was such a cliché, in real life and it took her back to French classes in high school, where she and her friends had decided it was the most hilarious response to anything at all until the novelty wore off. The memory brought another smile and a soft huff of laughter from her lips. When she took the pen and swiftly signed the delivery form, she actually received a smile from the delivery man in return. He jumped into the truck and handed her surprise to his unexpected assistant from the trapped car, who set it onto the roadside in front of Ellie.

It was a bicycle.

Not just any bicycle. This one was retro style, bright red, and it had a basket on the front.

Ellie searched for her schoolgirl French.

‘Merci,’ she said. ‘Merci beaucoup. It’s…magnifique…’

The two men nodded, spoke to each other and then shook hands. Within seconds, the truck rumbled to life and took off along the road. The driver of the car waved as he followed. The sound of the vehicles receded into total silence, but Ellie was still standing there, holding the handlebars of the bicycle.

This was, quite possibly, the best present anyone had ever given her.

She could go as far as her legs would be able to pedal. She’d have to do it on the wrong side of the road, but she could go wherever she wanted to go. Into the nearby small village of Tourrettes-sur-Loup for daily requirements like bread or cheese. Into Vence if she needed a supermarket. Back to St Paul de Vence, maybe, to spend more time on those cobbled streets. To a river, even, to fill the basket with stones of her own choosing…

It was a stroke of genius on Laura’s part, and it pretty much wiped the slate clean of all the criticism and disappointment that had accumulated for too many years. In that moment, Ellie had never felt so much love for her oldest sister. She wasn’t trapped in this sad, dirty little house.

It felt like Laura had given her freedom.

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Ellie propped the bicycle against the wooden door of the shed and stood there for a long moment, admiring it. Then she took a photo with her phone, texted it to Laura and added a message to tell her that she was the best sister ever.

The response was instant.

You’re welcome. Chose the colour to match your hair. Don’t forget to stay on the right side of the road!!!

The boost to Ellie’s morale carried her back into the house. Into the kitchen, where she spotted a baguette sitting on the recently scrubbed wooden breadboard. Her stomach growled a reminder that she hadn’t eaten since breakfast, so she broke off a large chunk of baguette and prised it open. She folded in a slice of the juicy ham Laura had chosen from the supermarket delicatessen and added some wedges of a soft Camembert. As a final touch, she spread a generous amount of Dijon mustard, squashed the roll a little flatter and then took her first bite.

Oh,wow.

There was nothing like hunger to make something astonishingly delicious. The bone-deep weariness from a long day of physical labour sprinkled with dollops of some rather intense emotions seemed to add another condiment. Or perhaps it was that the flavours were so quintessentially French and she was eating it looking out onto that incredible view that could only be the south of France. A view that was now tinged with the first colours of what promised to be a long and gentle sunset.

There was only one thing that could make this experience even better. A glass of rosé. Oh, and maybe sitting down to eat it. Not inside, though. Right now, that terrace wasn’t looking like a trap to suck someone into a vortex of loneliness. It looked like the perfect place to watch a sunset paint its magic onto an endless sky.

It wasn’t that lonely, either, Ellie decided some time later. Having swallowed the last mouthful of her sandwich and chased it down with the rest of the wine, she went back inside to refill her glass.

Such a pretty pale pink. Like that first flush of the sunset that was now deepening into a much more intense colour, with streaks of gold that might become orange very soon. She took the glass with her as she wandered outside again, towards the lemon orchard this time, as if she wanted to step closer to the rapidly darkening silhouette of the nearest mountain.

No. It wasn’t lonely.

It was… peaceful.

So peaceful it felt like nothing she had ever experienced before. The warmth of the air around her was as comforting as a snuggly blanket on a freezing winter’s night. The light was gentle on her eyes, and the silence, only occasionally broken by the call of a bird, was utterly different to the silences she had been living with for so long.

It wasn’t punishing her with what was missing from her life.

It felt as if it was soothing her with the promise of a new beginning.

The sun was low enough now to give the air the soft, misty quality Ellie had noticed yesterday and made her think of classes back at art school, exploring paintings by some of the masters, like Matisse or Chagall.

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