Page 26 of The Village Cafe in the Loire

‘Oh, she knows,’ he said confidently. ‘She is always pleased, I think. But when you come – she will be delighted.’

‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘Next time?’

‘Next time.’

10

The following morning Becky was up early, replacing half of the chairs in the café with her new, plush versions. She stacked the older, ramshackle chairs in the corner, vowing to take them to a charity shop later on. As the day came into itself and the sunshine brightened, she stood back and contemplated her work.

It did look a bit odd at this stage – the chairs’ newness and evident luxury made everything else in the café look shabby, highlighting the need for further change. But it was a start.

Pascal appeared behind her, coffee in hand. ‘Mon Dieu!’ he said, slopping the coffee a little. ‘Sorry, I did not expect to see you there.’ His eye cast over the room, taking in the chairs, his mouth crinkling a little.

‘What do you think?’ she asked. ‘I mean, I know they don’t match everything yet. But when the tables come – and of course I’ve got a lot of work to do on the walls – I think they’ll be a real asset. The colour pops, don’t you think?’

‘Yes,’ he said, not sounding entirely convinced. ‘The colour does, as you say, pop.’

Her eyelid gave a warning twitch as if detecting an untruth. ‘Don’t you like them?’ she pressed.

‘Well, perhaps it does not matter what I think. But, if I am entirely honest, perhaps they do not suit this café, this village, the customers we have.’

The fact that he was voicing what she’d secretly been worrying about made it somehow worse. ‘Of course they do! People don’t always know what they want until they see it!’

‘Yes. Perhaps you are right.’

Something in his lacklustre tone, his reluctant agreement made her arms stiffen. ‘Half the people who come here probably aren’t used to something so comfortable. But if we give it to them, they’ll realise how much better things could be. They just don’t know any better!’

Pascal raised a quizzical eyebrow.

‘What?’ she said.

‘I’m sorry. But you are making assumptions about the people of Vaudrelle. Yet you don’t know them. You make them sound ignorant of the world. It is not true at all.’

‘Of course, I know I don’t know these people. But I run advertising campaigns for a major corporation. I’m used to thinking about what people want and working out ways to give it to them. Knowing people better than they know themselves.’

Pascal grinned.

‘What?’ she prompted again, feeling a prickle of anger.

‘It is nothing,’ he said. ‘But it is a great talent to know people so well, so easily.’

‘You know what I mean.’

‘I am just saying that maybe it would have been better to spend some time here. Talk to people about what they like, what they don’t like.’

‘Have youseenthe people who come here? They probably never leave the village. They probably don’t know how nice this place could be. I want to?—’

Something in Pascal’s expression shifted; darkened.

‘Non. It is you who doesn’t know. I am almost certain that even the backward, rural people who live here will have come across a cushion,non? But do they want it when they are stopping in the café for an espresso before looking after their fields, or walking their dog?’

‘Well, perhaps they do. How doyouknow?’

Pascal shook his head. ‘I do not know for certain. I would not presume to decide for them. But the café has been here for many years, and it is always full. There are always people here, dropping by, coming in. They can come in their boots, with their mud, with their dogs, and it is perfect for them. Maud, she understood this. It is a success. The takings are good. When you come to sell, someone will buy it.’

‘There’s nothing wrong with trying to make things nicer, better for people,’ she snapped, feeling her face get red.

Pascal’s nostrils flared. ‘Of course not! But thereissomething wrong with deciding you know people, that you know a business, or village – and that you know better what people want. We may be a small village, but people here are intelligent, interesting, they have good jobs. René – he works with film studios in Paris; Clarence, the lady with the tiny dog? She is a poet with two books published. And the others, they have interesting lives. They travel. Do not decide who they are when you know nothing about them.’

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