Page 43 of The Village Cafe in the Loire

‘No?’

‘No. Not spirits, ghosts, whatever you want to call them.’

‘Ghosts?’

‘Yes. That’s what you’re saying, right? That you visit her grave and talk to her? That you sense she still understands you? Look. I know lots of people feel that way.’ She held her hands up as if to say she wasn’t trying to interfere with what he believed. ‘But I just can’t…’

‘Her grave?’

This was getting weird. Perhaps it was something to do with English being his second language. She wished she knew more French, but unless he was going to serve her a drink or tell her the way to the tourist information office, she was all out of vocabulary. ‘Yeah,’ she said uncertainly.

‘Madame,’ Georges’s voice was soft. ‘I am sorry. But I think there has been a misunderstanding.’

‘You can say that again,’ Amber said in a low voice.

‘Non. There is no grave. There is no… spirit or ghost. Maud is not dead.’

‘I’m sorry… what?’ Becky became acutely aware of her heartbeat, its rhythmical thud inside her chest. Time paused, the air around her became thick and she put a hand out and gripped Amber’s arm. ‘She’s… Maud’s alive?’

‘Oui. Maud is a good friend of mine. And I visit her every few days, along with another woman from the village who is at the same home. She is quite happy there. So I know that when she offered you the café and she did not hear from you, she was a little sad. When she heard that you came over, she thought you would visit. Did you truly think she had died? Because I am not sure how this misunderstanding happened. Or do you mean in a metaphorical sense? That she is dead to you? Is there some argument between you? Something I can help with?’

Becky felt her knees buckle slightly and leant against her friend. ‘Maud’s… she’s not… dead?’ she said.

‘Your aunt is not in the best of health, it is true. But she is very much alive.’

17

‘Are you sure you’re going to be OK?’ Amber said, standing by the taxi. ‘You know I’d stay if I could…’ They’d spent some time in the empty café, coming to terms with what they’d learned. Becky had laughed, cried, laughed again, could barely get her head around the news. But then Amber had checked her watch, grown paler, rushed upstairs to pack in time for her taxi.

‘You can’t stay a couple more days?’ Becky had asked her earlier.

‘I wish I could.’

‘It’s all good,’ Becky said now, trying to keep her voice from wavering. ‘I get it. Work comes first.’

‘Well, not always. Just…’

‘Seriously. It’s OK.’ She hoped her tone sounded convincing to Amber. In reality, she needed her best friend more than ever. But if Amber couldn’t see that this was the time to call in sick for a couple of days herself, or request unpaid leave or something, she wasn’t going to beg.

‘I really am sorry.’

‘It’s fine. Honestly. I know your work is a bit… there’s a lot of pressure.’ Becky forced her lips into a smile. It wasn’t fair of herto expect so much of Amber. It was just that every fibre in her being needed someone familiar at her side while she dealt with this unexpected twist in her life.

‘There really is. A lot of pressure. And there’s more. I was going to…’ Amber put her hand to her chest. ‘I wanted to talk to you about it all. There just wasn’t a moment. And then themaireguy said… well, you know.’

Becky nodded. ‘We can talk later if you want?’

‘OK.’ Amber checked the time on her phone. ‘I really am sorry.’

‘It’s OK,’ Becky said again. ‘At least you were here when it happened. You might not have believed me otherwise.’ She gave a weak smile.

‘Very true. I think if you’d called me and told me Maud was alive, I’d assume you were having a breakdown,’ she admitted.

‘A burnoutanda breakdown?’

‘Why not? You always were an overachiever.’ They smiled genuinely at each other now.

‘I will take care of her, don’t worry,’ said Pascal who’d arrived home shortly after Georges had departed to find Becky yet again red-eyed from crying and sipping water.

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