Page 19 of The Little Provence Book Shop

Adeline looked. It was a small, blue stone. ‘What’s this?’ she asked.

‘Monique gave it to me. To help me make friends. But maybe you need it too. She said it’s magic. And it worked! I’ve got lots of friends already.’

Adeline felt a shiver of unease. ‘That’s kind of her,’ she said. She turned the stone over in her hand. ‘You know it’s only pretend, though, don’t you? You make friends because of who you are, not because of a crystal.’

Lili shrugged dismissively.

‘But maybe it helps,’ Adeline added. Because if there was a time to believe in a little magic, childhood was certainly it.

She took a big sip from her tea and shuffled a little so that Lili could climb onto her lap. Dickinson’s poems were replaced with the chick story, the blue stone was laid carefully on thetable, and she read to Lili as her girl snuggled in and gave her the comfort she’d instinctively known she needed.

Tomorrow, she decided, it would be a new start. She’d start being honest with herself about who she was. She’d accept her past and work towards a better future. And this time, there would be no more lies.

10

It was absolutely typical, of course, she thought the following morning after dropping Lili off at school, that she’d bump into Michel straightaway – the moment she’d decided to be more open, to accept invitations and make friends as and when the opportunities struck. Mornings were often slow and today Monique had called to say she didn’t need her to be in situ until 10a.m., and suggested she treat herself to a coffee. ‘You have worked so hard,’ she’d said. ‘Why not go to the Café des Sports – they make the best coffee.’

The moment she’d walked into the cafe, she’d seen Michel sitting at one of the small, round tables, his head buried in a book. He’d clearly been there a little while, as his cup was empty, but he looked in no rush to leave.

Rather than interrupt him, she made her way to the counter and ordered her coffee, which came with a small chocolate on the side, but when she turned, she found that he had lowered his book and was looking at her with a smile.

She walked over. ‘Salut.’

‘Sit down, join me,’ he said, gesturing at the chair opposite.

‘Oh, no. You’re reading. I don’t want to interrupt,’ she replied hurriedly.

He laughed. ‘You arerescuingme. My aunt gave me this book and I simply can’t get on with it.’

She glanced at the title – it wasn’t one she recognised. All out of excuses, she set her cup down and slid into the wooden chair opposite him. ‘I take it I should keep this information from Monique,’ she grinned.

‘Yes, perhaps, although she is used to me and my terrible taste!’ he smiled. ‘I might be a professor, but my subject ismathématiques, much to her dismay. She is trying to educate me with fine literature, but I still prefer modern thrillers.’ He shrugged. ‘So there we have it. I am beyond help.’

Adeline chuckled. ‘I’m partial to a thriller once in a while myself.’

He grinned and signalled to the man behind the counter that he wanted another coffee.

‘Don’t feel you have to stay for me,’ she said, sipping her drink and deciding that after all, she’d need to add both the sugar cubes proffered.

‘Ah, not at all. I am on leave for a few days – I have nothing to do!’ He seemed delighted by this.

‘It’ll be nice for Monique to see a bit more of you,’ Adeline said. ‘I don’t think she has anyone else. Family, I mean.’

He shook his head. ‘No. Or not family she will talk to.’

‘What about your mother? Her sister, I presume?’

Another shake. ‘Yes, she talks to my mother. But they are not actually true family. Not related. Monique is my aunt because she has been best friends with my mother for many years, since before I was born. So yes, we are family, but not by blood.’

‘Oh, I see.’

Adeline was itching to ask him why Monique had cut hermother out of her life – to find out more about her mysterious boss. She took a sip of her coffee instead and began to unwrap the foil-wrapped square of dark chocolate at its side.

‘And you want to ask me –why does Monique not speak to her mother?But you are too polite,’ he said, his eyes mischievous.

She felt herself getting hot. ‘It’s fine. It’s none of my business.’ Could everyone in this place actually read minds?

‘Well, I will tell you anyway. Because it is not a secret. She had an enormous row with her mother when she was very young – perhaps not even twenty.’

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