Page 82 of The Village Cafe in the Loire

Pascal laughed. ‘Your aunt is being too modest,’ he said. ‘She is quite famous in France as an artist. Her photographs are in many galleries in Paris.’

‘Oh!’ Becky glanced at Maud with renewed interest. ‘Why didn’t you say?’

‘I suppose I prefer people to like me – or not, as the case may be – for who I am as a person, rather than for what I can do. I had enough of that, you see, in London. A top female lawyer, working my way to being a barrister. People always talked about what I did, and I felt…’

‘You felt…?’ Becky prompted after a moment.

‘I felt like a thing rather than a person. What I was doing was unremarkable in its own way. I just wanted to be allowed to get on with it. Here, I don’t know. I found a whole new me andI didn’t want to tarnish that with the same problem. I am me, and I am also a photographer. But what I do isn’t who I am. It’s better to keep the two separate.’

Becky nodded. ‘It makes sense. Do you photograph anything now, at the home?’

Maud shook her head. ‘Too difficult. Unless I want to photograph my sparse little bedroom.’ She saw the expression on Becky’s face. ‘Oh, don’t pity me. I’m happy enough in my own right.’

‘Well, we’ll bring you over more often. You should be here; it’s still your café, really.’

Pascal looked at her with surprise but didn’t say anything.

‘Thank you. Although this one is, of course, off to Paris soon!’

Pascal blushed. ‘Not quite yet,’ he said.

Later, when they’d eaten, Pascal had left to drop Maud back off at her home.

When he’d returned, she’d heard the door of the café open and shut behind him, his footsteps on the stairs.

Even so, when he knocked on her bedroom door, she started.

He opened the door a little and stepped inside, smiling.

‘Was Maud OK?’

He nodded. ‘A little sad to return to her home, I think. But very happy about the café.’

‘I’m so glad.’ Becky sat on the bed, then felt a bit awkward and stood up again. How could it be that they’d been so passionate a few hours before, and now everything felt a little bit forced?

‘Tell me,’ he said. ‘You told Maud that you would bring her here more often. But I thought that you had decided to leave? To sell?’

She shook her head. ‘I knew as soon as I said it… I shouldn’t have mentioned anything. My life is in London still – I can’t stayeven if I wanted to. Only when I’m here, it’s so easy to forget that – so easy to imagine that I could stay here for longer.’

He walked over to her. ‘If you were to stay,’ he whispered, ‘it might change everything.’

She looked at his earnest eyes. ‘Really?’

‘For me,oui.’ He leaned in for a kiss.

She leaned away. ‘But what about your mother? You told her there was nothing here for you.’

He frowned. ‘I did?’

‘Yes, I heard you on the phone. Sorry. But you said…’

He laughed. ‘Non,non! You misunderstand. There are no publishers here, not many bookshops. Nothing for me inthatsense. That’s why I must go to Paris frequently. Because I need to become involved in the book world. But if you were in Vaudrelle…’ He kissed her and this time, she let him. ‘If you were here, then it would be everything.’

And even though she still wasn’t sure what the future might hold, Becky closed her eyes and let herself get swept up in the fantasy of it all.

31

She awoke the next morning to find herself alone in Pascal’s bed. It was seven, and the morning stretched ahead of her with nothing particularly to fill it. Everything necessary for the launch had been ticked off their ‘to do’ list and all she had to do was wait. Rather than that making her feel relaxed, though, she felt edgy and nervous – her fingers twitching for something to do.

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