Page 30 of The Little Provence Book Shop

It was Michel.

Monique unbolted the door and he entered, his mouthsomewhere between a straight line and a smile. ‘Bonjour,’ he said, leaning down and kissing her lightly on each cheek.

‘Bonjour,’ she replied, her tone guarded.

Adeline felt uncomfortable, as if she were witnessing a private moment. She’d brought some food from home to eat in the shop today; the small cafe was always heaving after the market had packed away. But perhaps she ought to make herself scarce – go home and eat something there. ‘Shall I…?’ she said, and both of them looked at her.

‘Non, don’t be silly. You stay. Perhaps Michel will come up to my apartment?’ Monique said, nodding towards the stairs.

He nodded in return, smiling more broadly at Adeline as he passed her, and was it her imagination or did he give her a wink? She hoped he was here to make amends. Something about his presence always seemed to light Monique from the inside, and she’d started to worry about her friend – Adeline didn’t have much family, but she couldn’t imagine what it might be like to have none at all.

The shop fell silent, the only noise coming from people passing by on their way to lunch, the traders packing their stalls, and the odd customer who tried the door before noticing the ‘Closed for lunch’ sign in the window.

Adeline munched on her rather dry ham baguette and tried to resist the urge to draw out her phone and distract herself. Instead, she pulled a book off a nearby shelf and tried to engage with that. But it was impossible to stop her attention from wandering upstairs and wondering exactly what might be happening there. Would there be another argument? Would Michel apologise? What had they fought about in the first place?

Monique had been vague whenever she’d mentioned their fight, saying they’d had a difference of opinion. But it was hardto believe that anything ordinary could have caused such a violent response in Monique, who seemed so calm most of the time.

Then there was a click that sent a thump of surprise through Adeline. The door at the top of the stairs opened and Michel jogged down them, barely making a sound. He stopped at the bottom and grinned. ‘Ça va?’ he asked.

‘Yes, I’m fine, thank you. Everything OK?’ she added, raising an eyebrow.

‘Oui,’ he nodded. ‘We have made things good again between us.’ He smiled and leaned against the wall.

‘That’s good,’ she smiled back, feeling herself relax.

‘And don’t worry, I am also hoping to speak to André today, to make things good there too.’

‘Thank you.’

‘It’s fine. I can see that you are worried about it.’

She laughed. ‘Don’t tell me you’re areader of peopletoo?’

‘Who knows?’ he said. ‘Maybe sometimes we all are.’

He left with a cheery goodbye, but once the door closed his words remained. He’d been joking, but in some way perhaps he was right.

15

Sunday had become her favourite day. Not because she didn’t enjoy her time at the shop, but because it was the only time she had just for her and Lili. On Saturdays, when Adeline was working, Lili would come to the shop and sit quietly, reading or colouring before, more often than not, venturing up to Monique’s flat to watch TV. Monday afternoons and Wednesdays, Adeline would have time off, but often Lili was at school or Adeline was too tired to play.

So Sunday had becometheirday – and Adeline found that she looked forward to it each week.

This morning, they were lying together in Adeline’s double bed – Lili had joined her under the soft, feather eiderdown sometime during the night and was snuggled up against the pillow, lost to sleep. Adeline lay on her back and looked at the patterns the sunlight made on the ceiling, thought to the day ahead and what they might do.

When she heard the car, she didn’t think much of it. The road through St Vianne was often quiet, especially on a Sunday morning, but there was always the odd car, the odd motorbike,making its way past. In London, the traffic had been a constant backdrop to their lives – the peal of a siren, the persistent trundle of buses and cars – and she’d blocked the noise out as best she could. Here she liked the sound of tyres on cobble, reminding her that, although she was tucked away, there was still life out there.

The car engine stopped and there was the slam of a door, the murmur of voices, then the sound as a car drove off. She stretched luxuriously in her warm bed, wondering whether it might be time to get up and make a coffee.

The knock on the door downstairs startled her and she sat up, suddenly alert. She called out a loud ‘J’arrive!’and swung her legs out from under the covers, feeling the cool of the room on her skin. She grabbed her towelling robe and wrapped it around herself as she raced down the stairs, stopping briefly to smooth her hair – but really there was no hope – before reaching the front door and opening it onto the street.

She’d barely had time to consider who might be on the other side. It was Sunday, so it wouldn’t be the postwoman, or any sort of delivery. Perhaps Monique – although surely she’d have called? Adeline didn’t really know anyone else well enough for them to call on her. Perhaps it was a neighbour with a question, or someone who’d knocked on the wrong door entirely.

She gasped when she saw the man standing outside, looking uncertainly around him. His light brown hair and well-groomed beard, sweatshirt and jeans, looked incongruous in this setting. As if he’d been taken out of a completely different picture and dropped into her world from somewhere else entirely. The little yellow man on Google Maps placed in her French town and looking around, trying to establish where he was.

Their eyes met and her hands flew to her face. Then instinctively, she rushed forward and wrapped her arms around him,not caring that she was in the street with bed hair and wearing a dressing gown.

‘Kevin!’ she exclaimed. ‘What are you doing here?’

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