Page 48 of Falling for Provence

From the first steps through the archway onto the cobbled walkways, there were reminders everywhere of the celebrationof violets. Shops were selling postcards and tiles, violet-scented soap and oil, and even wine, candied violets and countless other items that were decorated with the unpretentious little flowers.

A poster advertising the annual violet festival in early March was still attached to a wall. The ice cream shop further down the hill was famous for its violet-flavoured ice cream, and Ellie bought one because… well, it was a gorgeous summer day. And what could be better than enjoying a pale-purple ice cream with a sugary flower on top and wandering down to the ramparts to admire the dramatic view of the gorges and forests and the distant sea?

The shop Ellie had walked past many times was open when they headed back up the hill, and Pascal was happy to sit on the stone step while Ellie looked at racks crowded with pretty summer dresses and shirts. The garment that caught her eye instantly was a long dress in white muslin, printed with small, bright red poppies and tiny green leaves.

On closer inspection, she found the poppies were actually heart-shaped, but that only made it more appealing. It had spaghetti straps, a smocked yoke and a layered skirt, and Ellie knew how unlikely it was that she would ever be able to wear it back in Scotland. Being white, it was also highly impractical, but it was too pretty not to try on. She already had a dress with daisies on it that would remind her of Marguerite the donkey. Surely it was only fair to have a dress with poppies on it for Coquelicot?

Putting it on made it so impossible to resist that Ellie decided she would wear it and had her blue dress wrapped up to carry home. She walked slowly up the cobbled slopes, enjoying the swish of the long skirt against her legs and the sun kissing her bare shoulders, reminding herself to buy a bunch of carrots for the donkeys at theépiceriebefore heading home.

Ellie put her parcel into the basket of her bike, which was in the shade of one of the huge plane trees around the square, and noticed the sketch book and pencils she’d put in there earlier. A glance towards theépicerieshowed her that the shop was currently busy, and it seemed like the perfect excuse to sit in the shade for a few minutes and capture a fraction of this quiet summer morning in the village that was becoming something so special to her.

The church, on the other side of the square, had always caught her gaze. An ancient stone building with a picturesque bell tower and quirky architecture that suggested additions during different centuries was typical of a medieval French village, but, as Ellie began outlining her sketch, she was paying more attention to what made the Église Saint-Grégoire so appealing. Maybe it was the central, octagonal-shaped section. Or the seemingly random placement of arch-shaped windows on some walls and square ones on others. A chimney seemed out of place, but the tower with its spire and glimpses of the old bell was everything you could ask for in a church.

Ellie moved so that she could see the entrance to the church, which was a remarkably plain wall with a small cross on the roofline, a round window directly beneath and, in the same line, an archway-shaped depression in the wall that held a statue above weathered-looking wooden doors. Only one of the doors was visible because the other was opened inwards, leaving a shadowed gap in the wall.

An invitation to go inside?

‘Wait here,’ Ellie told Pascal as she tied his lead to the iron rack. ‘Guard the bike for me. I won’t be long.’

For some reason, Ellie hadn’t taken the time to go inside the church before. As she stepped inside to see the light pouring into the richly decorated space, creating wide, misty rays beneath the dramatic curves of a vaulted ceiling, she caught herbreath. Beneath her feet she could feel the unevenness of huge flagstones that had been worn smooth by centuries of footsteps, and the rows of wooden chairs were begging for someone to sit and take it all in with an appropriate reverence.

There were small bunches of white gypsophila tied onto the chairs at the aisle end of the rows with silk ribbons, and Ellie realised there must have been a wedding in here very recently. She moved slowly and quietly further into the church as, more and more, the vibrant artwork, numerous statues, gilding and wrought iron added to her initial impression of a remarkable space, and she wondered how many couples might have been blessed to exchange their vows in this holy place. She could almost hear echoes of the promises of commitment and fidelity and love for the rest of their lives.

That was when Ellie finally sat down on one of the chairs with its fluff of white blossom and soft ribbon. Just for a moment. Because there was deep sense of yearning that was bringing a lump to her throat and the threat of tears to the back of her eyes. And her imagination was pushing her into a space that hadn’t even existed a few minutes ago. Because she could see herself in a white dress, maybe eventhiswhite dress with its tiny poppies and green leaves. She was holding a bunch of simple white daisies, and she had flowers in her hair. Beside her, Julien was looking impossibly gorgeous in a dark suit, and little Theo was walking in front of them, scattering rose petals from the small basket he was carrying.

Ellie and Julien were walking towards the front of the church, where the altar and lectern were behind the intricate ironwork of the railing.

Getting married…

She’d never dreamed of getting married before. Even to Liam when she found out she was carrying his baby.

But this was different.

Julien was different, and, in this fantasy moment, the wedding she was imagining was the most perfect event of her life. She had never wanted anything quite this much. And then she blinked and it was gone, and she got to her feet and walked back out of this magical place knowing that it had been nothing more than fantasy. That it was something that could never happen in real life.

And, however much she wanted to hang on to that tiny scrap of something so perfect, it was already fading – just a final glimpse of a dream evaporating into wakeful reality, swept along by a painful twinge of… oh, yes… had she actually begun to forget what grief felt like?

Perhaps it had been the addition of Theo into the fantasy that had been the reminder that grief could still be sharp enough to hurt despite this new happiness. Reality meant that if Julien ever imaginedheras his bride, he would, no doubt, feel the same grief for the wife he’d loved and lost and would never try to replace. Grief had no timetable, and there was no point in longing for a future that was never going to happen.

Except… Ellie could feel the caress of this soft new dress against her legs as she blinked in the bright sunshine outside. If she was lucky, perhaps a fragment of that fantasy might have caught somewhere in the folds of this pretty fabric, and she might be able to catch another frisson the next time she put it on. Even for a heartbeat would be long enough to remember it was possible to feel as if you’d found the holy grail of life, which was so very simple yet so complicated at the same time.

To be happy.

To love. And be loved.

16

The first hint that there was something a little different about Laura was her reaction when Ellie video called her, early in the morning before she would be at work, with an offer to pick her up from the airport in Nice.

Not that she noticed anything odd straight away. The initial, acerbic response was an echo of the bossy, older sister she remembered so well from her childhood.

‘What?’ Laura’s incredulous huff suggested she was offended. ‘In that antique rust bucket that looks like it could break down at any moment?’

‘Margot is totally trustworthy,’ Ellie assured her.

‘You’venamedthe car?’

Ellie came very close to rolling her eyes. ‘Wait till you meet her,’ she said. ‘You’ll find out just how much of a personality she has. Want to change your mind and meet her at the airport? There’s a ‘Kiss and Fly’ lane at Terminal Two which is supposed to be for dropping people off, but apparently, if you time it well, it’s okay to pick people up there too.’

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