Page 42 of The Little Provence Book Shop

‘Oui. So many memories.’

The silence fell again.

One or two children began to open the door and run into the arms of their waiting parents. A couple raced to the little climbing frame, chattering loudly. Lili had yet to emerge.

‘Because you know, one time, I had a baby,’ Monique said, almost out of nowhere.

Adeline nodded. ‘I do know.’ She felt her face get hot. ‘Michel told me. I hope that was OK.’

Monique shrugged, her eyes shining. ‘I suppose it is not a secret.’

Adeline put her arm out and touched Monique briefly. ‘It must be hard, to remember.’

Her friend nodded. ‘It is. But then it is also hard when I forget for a time. I don’t want to forget her. But I don’t want to remember.’ She smiled, acknowledging the contradiction. ‘It was the song I sang to her, when I held her just that one time. Atthat moment, I wanted with all my heart to keep her, but I’d finally accepted that I didn’t have the strength to defy my parents. I was a child; no more than sixteen. I sang that song because I imagined my baby was a butterfly, and that she would fly and be free and have a good life.’ Her mouth twisted. ‘And I hoped perhaps one day she might fly back to me.’

‘Oh, Monique.’

Monique shrugged, half-heartedly. ‘It is long ago. The pain is not normally so raw. It was just the song, it opened up a passage in time for a moment and I was back there, with my lips against the baby’s ear, whispering, singing a little. And hoping that my mother might change her mind.’

Adeline felt her eyes moisten. She blinked away the tears. ‘It must have been awful.’

Another shrug. ‘Yes. It was a terrible time. But it was thirty years ago now.’

‘Thirty? Michel said maybe forty or more?’

Monique flapped her hand as if it weren’t important. ‘Thirty, forty, fifty. It doesn’t matter. It was long ago. And I have had to learn to live with the pain. But it is hard sometimes.’

‘Of course. It must be awful.’ Adeline’s mind raced. Because the amount of time did matter. To her, at least. Thirty years – she looked at Monique, studied her face.

‘Oui, but there have been a lot of days since. And the pain gets less.’

Adeline nodded.

Then, ‘Non, that is not right,’ Monique said. ‘The pain does not get less. But somehow I grow around it. I find that I can bury it more deeply. And some days I do not even think of her. At least not for many minutes.’

Adeline imagined how she’d have felt if Lili had been taken from her. It sounded impossible; far-fetched. Yet she herself hadonly been in her twenties, and single, when she’d had Lili. A generation beforehand, or if she’d been a few years younger, the same could easily have happened to her. ‘And you were sixteen?’ she asked.

‘Oui.’

‘And what year was that? How old are you now?’ The questions seemed stark; rude almost, but she couldn’t help herself.

Before Monique could answer, something small barrelled into Adeline’s legs and she stumbled slightly into the fence. ‘Oh!’ she exclaimed, then looked down to see Lili, smiling excitedly up at her. ‘You scared me half to death!’ she said.

Lili’s face fell.

‘But the dancing, the singing, it was wonderful!’ Adeline added quickly. ‘We were amazed!’

‘You were?’

‘Of course,’ Monique said, ‘and of course you were the best one.’

‘I was?’

‘Mais oui! How can you think otherwise!’ Monique exclaimed, putting her hands on Lili’s upper arms. ‘I am sure everybody thought so.’

Adeline held back her urge to say something a little more measured to Lili about it being a team effort and her classmates shining too. But it was nice to see Monique smile after everything she’d said. And if she inflated Lili’s ego a little, well, it wasn’t the end of the world.

As they walked back to the shop, with a promise to pop into the patisserie en route, Adeline studied Monique’s face, trying to establish her age. She couldn’t be as young as forty-six, could she? The age her mother might be? Monique was truly a mystery. Sometimes she looked young, vibrant. Sometimes older. Always beautiful, glamorous and confident. But somehowageless – her personality shining through and making any wrinkles or grey hairs seem irrelevant.

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