Page 29 of The Little Provence Book Shop

‘Are you OK?’

‘Oui.Just thinking.’

Monique gave her such a quizzical look at this that she felt she had to say something. ‘It was just I bumped into a friend of yours – Catherine. She seemed to think I was your daughter!’

Monique laughed. ‘Ah, people see what they want to see. Many businesses here have family members working for them. She made a false connection.’

‘Yes. I mean, I don’t think we look alike, do you?’

‘Non. I do not see it,’ said Monique dismissively. She seemed to lean forward then, studying Adeline’s features, her eyes darting this way and that as she took in her skin, eyes, nose, lips. She opened her mouth briefly, almost as if she were about to say something. Then clamped it shut.

‘Non,’ she agreed. ‘Rien, nothing.’

A silence settled over them as they carried on with their tasks, interrupted by the occasional customer or browser. But once in a while, when she glanced over at Monique, she saw her looking back at her, a thoughtful expression on her face.

14

Adeline posted a picture of herself standing outside the bookshop the following morning, smiling, and wrote underneath ‘Taking some time out in France.’ Almost immediately the likes and comments began – many from people she only half knew, whom she’d followed in another life.

There were several messages in her inbox that her best friend Chris had sent over the past few weeks – hoping she was all right, asking why she hadn’t replied. Then one saying she’d spoken to Kevin, and that Adeline must call her as soon as she had a new mobile phone. Adeline felt guilty; with her new surroundings, new job, it had been easy to push thoughts of home to the back of her mind. But she ought to have kept in touch with Chris who had clearly been worried.

A couple of other messages from friends had arrived – one fairly generic catch-up mail from a university friend, another saying that she hadn’t heard much from Adeline and wondered what she was up to. But that was it. When she’d first signed back onto Facebook, she’d thought she might have a barrage ofconcerned messages from people who’d noticed her absence. But of course, it had only been a few weeks. People did disappear from the platform; and she didn’t really have daily contact with anyone except Lili and the school she’d attended in the UK.

It was amazing how she could slide out of her own life, do something so momentous to her and have nobody really notice other than Kevin. What did that say about her? Or perhaps it wasn’t her at all, but just the way that life was. The illusion of communication through likes and GIFs, but no real connection at all.

She slid the phone back into her handbag and resolved to check her messages just a couple of times a day from now on; she’d got used to a life without a phone and in many ways it made her feel freer.

It was market day and there were more people browsing in the shop than usual. Some simply looking around, others flicking through volumes and smiling at the odd word or page. One or two simply there to pick up orders. Monique was deep in earnest conversation with a woman by one of the contemporary fiction stands, and a little child was rifling through the books in the wooden box. The little girl must have been three at most – almost on the cusp of going to school here. Adeline thought of Lili then, how her child skipped off from her today, already seeming so happy and settled; it made her wonder about the future – she’d intended to go back to England after a year at most. But whose future was it, really? Hers or Lili’s, and what would Lili choose?

‘…can never seem to find the right one!’ Adeline realised with a start that a woman was talking to her, just beyond the counter.

She smiled. ‘Sorry, I was on the moon,’ she explained, usinga French saying that she thought was particularly apt. ‘What were you asking?’

‘It’s OK,’ the woman replied. She was about the same age as Adeline and dressed in floral yoga pants and a white T-shirt. Her neck was draped with multiple necklaces and her hair twisted up on top of her head with a large clip. ‘I was just saying how I never seem to find the right book. I want one that really grips me.’ She put a hand to her heart. ‘And I have read many beautiful books recently, but not one that has swept me away.’

Adeline nodded. A line from Dickinson came to her: ‘There is no frigate like a book to take us lands away.’ She loved the image of a boat; the way that the poem had made her remember the best novels – the ones that had enabled her to disappear into their pages. She almost said the words out loud, but then wondered if it would seem pretentious, and the moment passed. ‘Let me have a think.’ She mentally rifled through the list of books she’d recently catalogued and those she’d read over the past few weeks.

Then she found herself looking up at the woman again. Their eyes locked and suddenly she felt something, like a tingle, in her hands. And the image of a book came to mind. She darted from behind the counter. ‘Hang on a moment,’ she said, and went over to the stand of contemporary fiction, passing her finger over the volumes to find the right surname. Then she slipped out a work by Virginie Grimaldie – described by some as the French Marian Keyes.Il est grand temps de rallumer les étoiles. A book about chasing the stars, finding new light. The kind of book that would lift someone’s spirits.

‘Here,’ she said, almost breathless back at the counter. ‘Try this one.’

The woman looked at her. ‘What’s it about?’ She sounded a little dubious.

‘Oh, it’s wonderful! I think you’re going to love it.’

Catching her enthusiasm, the woman smiled. ‘OK, why not?’ and passed over a twenty euro note in payment. Adeline slipped the book into a paper bag, adding a bookmark and a flyer about the shop, then passed it to the woman, who slipped it into a raffia bag already filled with apples.

‘Thank you!’ Adeline said as the woman turned to go. ‘Let me know if you enjoy it.’

‘I will.’

The woman disappeared through the door and Adeline turned to serve another customer who was buying something for his granddaughter. It was only later, when the clock in the square had chimed for midday and Monique was locking the shop for lunch, that she thought again about what had happened. On the face of it, she’d simply suggested a book that met with the woman’s requirements. But it had been her heart – her emotions – that had led her to it; she’d just had a strong, overwhelming sense that the woman and the book belonged together.

Across the shop, she saw Monique looking at her, her hand on the bolt that would secure the door for the two hours they took for lunch. ‘Are you all right?’ Monique asked.

‘Yes. Yes, fine,’ Adeline replied. She didn’t feel like sharing what had happened with Monique; imagined their interpretations would be entirely different. She stretched and yawned. ‘Just a bit tired. Could do with a coffee.’

‘Amen to that,’ Monique said with a smile. A shadow fell over her face as the glass of the door was blocked by a figure, and she looked up to indicate to the would-be customer that they were closed until two o’clock. Then her face changed.

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