Page 45 of The Village Cafe in the Loire

They were silent for a moment.

‘Do you think you will visit her now?’ he asked.

She nodded. ‘I’m going to… try. Tomorrow, maybe? If you can show me the way? But I’m kind of terrified. That’s why I was a bit down that Amber decided to go. You know, in spite of everything.’

‘I think she felt bad too.’

‘Yeah.’ Becky nodded. ‘Still, it would be so much easier going through this with her.’

‘You are partners, perhaps?’

‘Not in a romantic sense. Just been friends since… forever. We rent a flat together. We’re stand-ins for each other’s useless families who never seem to turn up to anything, or when they do turn up, seem to create difficulties…’

‘You have known her since a child?’

‘Yeah. We were five, I think. At school. She moved to the area and I was the one picked to look after her when she started class. We’ve seen each other through everything. Her parents’ divorce, my dad… when he died. She was there for me. Kind of propped me up a bit. Until I could carry on.’ Becky picked up a little stone and began rolling it between her fingers. ‘Just wished she could have visited Maud with me. Selfish probably. I know she’s got her own stuff on.’

‘She has problems?’

‘Nothing like that. Although I think work’s a bit full-on right now. She’s an accountant and I’m not sure she likes it that much. Only she doesn’t have any holiday left in her entitlement, so she’d have had to ring in sick or take unpaid leave in order to stay. I do get it. But I’m still sad about it.’

‘I expect she is too. She seemed sad for much of the time here, I thought.’

‘Yeah?’ Becky looked at him. ‘I didn’t notice that.’

‘Perhaps you know her better than I do. She just seemed very… thoughtful. Quiet.’

Pascal straightened his legs, then turning slightly, clambered to his feet. ‘Listen, I am no Amber, but I can take you tomorrow. Go with you when you see your aunt who has risen from the dead.’

‘You will?’ She got up too, touched his arm.

‘Oui,of course. It might feel a little strange for you. Perhaps for both of you.’

‘And do you think… would it be OK if you kind of explained to her what I thought. Maybe call her before we go? Because it’s a lot to explain and might be kind of… awkward.’

He looked at her. ‘Yes, if you want. Although I think Maud will probably find it very funny. She has a remarkable sense of humour. There is nothing wrong with her mind, it is sure.’

‘Still…’

‘Of course.’

Becky felt a flood of gratefulness rush through her. She stepped forward and gave Pascal a squeeze, wrapping her arms around his back. ‘Thank you so much,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry about when I said you were nothing, you’d done nothing.’

‘And I am sorry that I said you were just a job.’

‘Oh yes,’ she remembered. ‘I forgot you’d said that.’

‘Ah,merde! Then I wish I hadn’t reminded you!’

She looked up at him, hands still loosely around his waist. And in that moment, he bent down and let his lips gently touch hers.

Becky had felt adrift – lost without her job, away from home, away from Amber – and trying to come to terms with the wonderful, terrifying, strange news that her aunt was alive.

But as soon as their lips touched, she felt a jolt of connection. As if somehow all of the uncertainty, the feelings that fizzed and churned in her head, her stomach, stilled. And she felt suddenly rooted. That even though she was two hundred miles and a stretch of sea away from her London flat, from her mother, and even though her best friend was at this minute moving farther and farther from her, she was closer to home than she’d realised.

18

She awoke the next morning in a tangle of unfamiliar sheets. Bleary-eyed, she took in her surroundings: Pascal’s room with its double bed, soft feather eiderdown and pillows, looked completely different from the room she remembered her parents staying in all those years ago. The pine cladding had been painted in light cream which, bathed in sunlight from the window, looked warm and inviting. There were pictures on the walls: paintings of sunflowers and lavender fields. And scattered around was evidence of the room’s latest occupant: a jumper over a chair, a neat line of shoes next to the wardrobe. The space next to her was empty and, as she checked her watch, she realised that Pascal had no doubt already risen to open up the café.

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