Page 6 of The Little Provence Book Shop

The woman nodded. ‘Madame Dupont,’ she said. ‘Monique has a book for me?’

‘Of course.’ Monique had given her a list before leaving, with scrawled names of customers who’d made orders in thepreceding days. Adeline looked at the paper-wrapped parcels under the counter, each one inscribed in a looping hand. She found one labelled Dupont and picked it up, feeling the weight of the hard-covered volume inside.

The woman nodded and slipped the parcel into her bag. ‘So you are British,’ she said, more of a statement than a question.

‘Yes,’ Adeline replied, hoping that this was something Madame Dupont had learned from Monique rather than worked out from her ropey accent or very ‘British’ appearance. It wasn’t as if she were wearing union flag clothing or sporting a bowler hat, after all.

‘And you are here for…?’

‘Three months. Maybe more.’

Another nod and the ghost of a smile flickered across the woman’s face. ‘So you are Monique’s new project,’ she said.

‘A project?’ Perhaps she had misunderstood.

The woman barked a laugh. ‘Ah, don’t be offended. Monique likes to fix people. Situations. I expect she has plans for you!’

‘Really?’

The woman leaned forward, conspiratorially. ‘She has magic about her, Monique. Mark my words, she’ll have you married off within the year.’ She nodded, her eyes scanning Adeline’s face, perhaps looking for a flash of pleasure at the idea.

‘Married? Oh, no. I’m just… I’m here to improve my French. Get to know the country a little.’

Another laugh. ‘Ah, but you will see,’ the woman said delightedly. ‘I am sure Monique has more in store for you. I saw her with her pot of earth and knew that someone would be coming.’ She chuckled again. ‘Tell her I will pay her tomorrow,’ she added, turning from the counter, the book in the canvas bag knocking lightly against her leg.

Was that OK? Monique hadn’t mentioned that customerscould delay payment, but Adeline didn’t feel comfortable asking. Madame Dupont seemed to be familiar with the shop, with Monique. So she simply smiled and nodded, hoping it was the right call.

The woman left and the shop settled into quietness again; it was a peaceful rather than an oppressive hush – outside she could still hear the growl of an odd passing car, the steps of people out walking, the noise of occasional snatched conversation. She wondered what Madame Dupont had meant by the pot of earth. Perhaps it was better not to know.

A man was next, browsing the shelves and refusing any assistance. He disappeared without making a purchase. Then a woman came in with a small child and chose one of the books from the wooden box of children’s titles. She paid her ten euros and said something about the weather. Her child – a boy of about three years – looked at Adeline with interest, his eyes brown pools of wonder. Perhaps it was rare to see new people in the village?

‘Don’t stare, Louis!’ his mother admonished him.

Adeline smiled at him as he peeped at her from behind his mother. When the woman wasn’t looking, she made a silly face and saw pleasure spread across his features at their shared joke.

When she’d first seen the shop, Adeline had worried a little that it might be a bit too quiet, a bit too tucked away – what would they do all day if just one or two customers came in? But La Petite Librairie seemed to have a steady stream of visitors. An older woman asked for Monique, but wouldn’t accept help from Adeline, saying it was personal. ‘I do know about books!’ Adeline found herself crying after her. But the woman raised a hand dismissively and continued her walk across the cobbled courtyard.

It was bound to be difficult at first, Adeline reasoned. Peoplehad known Monique and her shop for years – they weren’t expecting someone new. All the same, she hoped it wasn’t her accent, her ‘otherness’ that was putting them off.

Before she could think further, an older man entered the shop. He was dressed in a long, brown coat which hung misshapenly around his frame, and corduroy trousers in a khaki green, ending in a pair of slightly battered leather shoes. He stopped when he saw her, rather than Monique, behind the counter and Adeline prepared herself for another snub. Instead, he doffed an imaginary cap and wished her a good morning.

‘Good morning,’ she replied, smiling. ‘I’m Adeline. Monique’s new assistant.’

He nodded, his blue, slightly watery eyes taking her in. ‘Welcome,’ he said, at last.

‘Thank you. Can I help you?’

‘Perhaps.’

A silence settled around them.

‘What can I do for you?’ she asked, slightly confused.

‘Maybe a book?’

She flushed. ‘Of course! But, um, what sort of book are you looking for?’

‘I think,Madame,’ he replied, ‘the question should be, what book is waiting for me?’

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