Page 33 of The Little Provence Book Shop

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Last night, alone in the bathroom, she’d felt a little self-conscious as she’d taken a saliva sample, completed the form and sealed the plastic bag then the envelope. She’d looked at the package on her bedside table the moment she’d woken up this morning and her heart had thundered with a mixture of fear and excitement.

Twenty-nine years ago, when her adoption had been finalised, they wouldn’t have dreamt that it would be so easy for people to trace their own DNA by the time she was an adult. And Kevin was right – even if her birth mother hadn’t taken the plunge, any one of her blood relatives might have. If she managed to make that connection, surely she’d get closer to the truth.

The problem was, now faced with the prospect, she wasn’t sure how much of the truth she really wanted. Mum and Dad had given her a wonderful childhood; after Dad had died, Mum had been the centre of their world. Kevin had been a ridiculous, funny, annoying big brother and had become a great friend too. The discovery she’d made had rocked all that, and she was onlyjust coming to terms with everything. Part of her was desperate to know; but another part wished she’d never found out about the adoption at all.

But she’d decided to force herself to do it. Partly because Kevin had bought the test, and partly because it was a chance to settle down some of the questions that raced through her mind when she tried to get to sleep, or when she sat in the empty shop waiting for the next customer. She’d drop it in the postbox on the way to the shop, then try to put it out of her head until the results arrived. The ‘priority payment’ Kevin had made and the fact he’d bought the test from the French website meant this might be just a few days’ time.

She stretched her arms, pleased that the sun appeared to be shining outside the window, making the thin curtains glow with yellow light. She wanted Kevin to have a good time while he was here – he’d just booked a couple of days and would be back to London before they knew it. At least he’d see a bit of sunshine; see St Vianne at its best.

She’d offered to ask Monique for a day off, but he’d insisted she carry on as usual. ‘I don’t expect you to drop everything for me,’ he’d said. ‘Besides, it means I get to spend the morning with this one,’ he’d added, tickling Lili who’d giggled delightedly. Adeline had phoned the school at eight o’clock, and Lili’s teacher had been more than happy to give her the day off to spend it with family. ‘It will do her good,’ she’d said.

As for her, it was good, at least, that they only worked a morning on Monday. La Petite Librairie, like the rest of the shops in St Vianne, kept its doors closed for the day – but Monique liked her to come in for a couple of hours to sort through new stock and get things ready for the week. She’d do that, then they could explore later – perhaps get something to eat at a cafe in Avignon or go for a walk into the countryside.

Adeline looked at her daughter now, still completely out of it after her late night yesterday, and smiled. She ached to brush the hair on her head, to lean in and kiss her perfect cheek, but resisted the urge. It would only wake her, and Adeline valued these rare mornings when she had a little time to herself to come around before her whirlwind of a five-year-old was activated. She slipped out of bed, pulled on her dressing gown and made her way to the bathroom to get ready.

When she reached the shop an hour later, her hand aching from the amount of times Lili had insisted she and Kevin swing her as they walked, she gave her brother a peck on the cheek and disappeared through the door. ‘Pop in later,’ she said. ‘When it’s tidy – I can give you the tour!’ He’d nodded then turned away with Lili who was talking excitedly about the slide in the park and just how brave she was when she climbed it.

Inside, Adeline shut the door and relocked it, making sure the sign read ‘Closed’ in the window. Then hung her bag on the little hook under the counter. When she straightened, she saw Monique’s feet on the stairs behind her. ‘So,’ her boss said, with a raised eyebrow as she emerged fully onto the shop floor, ‘you must tell me everything!’

At first, Adeline wondered whether Monique was talking about the DNA test that she’d shoved – with some difficulty – into the tiny slot in the yellow postbox en route. It would be hard to deny her psychic skills if she’d known aboutthat. Instead, she realised when she saw the mischievous look in Monique’s eyes that she was referring to the mysterious man who’d dropped her off this morning with a kiss, and strolled off holding Lili’s hand.

‘You have a new lover?’ she asked.

Adeline laughed, shaking her head. ‘Definitely not!’ Sheexplained what had happened – how Kevin had surprised her with a visit.

Monique nodded. ‘That is nice. He is a kind man.’

‘Yes, yes he is,’ Adeline agreed. She was quiet for a moment. ‘I was worried, actually,’ she admitted. ‘About whether I’d feel differently now I know he’s not myrealbrother.’

Monique’s eyebrows furrowed. ‘He is not?’ and Adeline realised how little she’d confided in Monique about this aspect of her life.

She flushed. ‘We grew up as brother and sister,’ she said. ‘But it turned out that I was adopted – I’ve only just found out.’

Monique’s face seemed to grow paler. ‘Adopted? What happened to your mother? Your first mother, I mean.’

‘My birth mother? I don’t know. All I know is that she was young, and that she came from France originally. From thisdépartement,actually.’

‘From France?’ Monique seemed surprised. ‘And you are here to find her, perhaps?’

‘Not at first,’ Adeline admitted. ‘Now… well, I don’t know.’

‘Are you angry with her?’

‘It’s not that,’ Adeline said. ‘I’d love to find her, to find out my story – why I was adopted, what happened. And I think my mother – my adoptive mother – wouldn’t have minded me doing that. It’s just… I don’t want to let myself hope. Because it’s so unlikely. I can’t…’ She felt tears and touched her hand to her eye in surprise. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I haven’t let myself think about it much.’

‘But it is nice that you don’t blame your mother. You are not angry about it.’

‘Why would I be angry?’

Monique shrugged. ‘Sometimes people do not understand.’ She seemed to want to say something else, but closed hermouth and shook her head almost imperceptibly. Adeline wanted to say that she knew about Monique’s own baby; but wasn’t sure whether to. And the moment passed.

‘Anyway,’ Monique said, breaking the silence that had settled over them. ‘There is no doubt that he is your real brother.’

‘Sorry?’

‘It is not blood always that binds us. That man, he got on a plane, he came all the way here because he was worried for you. A real brother is not always the man who shares this physical connection. A real brother is a man who comes to you because he loves you and he wants you in his life.’

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