Page 86 of The Village Cafe in the Loire

Maybe it was the same for everyone, she thought, considering Pascal’s own situation. Maybe all of us are just children trying to make our parents proud.

But if our parents, in turn, are trying to fulfil the wishes or desires drummed into them by their own parents, then are any of us actually living the life we would choose? When does giving someone advice and direction turn into mapping out their life for them?

She had never told Mum whatshethought, whatshewanted. She’d never really had the space to find out what that might be. Mum had such confidence that her way was right, Becky had never really questioned it before this point. She was reliant on the guidance and structure she’d been given, she realised. If she stepped away, who would she be? Would she simply be lost?

But this was no time for introspection. ‘Ready?’ Pascal said, and unlocked the door, throwing it open to let people inside. There were twenty-four in all: young; old; couples with children; people in their work clothes, sports gear, gardening overalls. They shuffled in and Pascal showed each to a table.

The next twenty minutes were a whirlwind – offering and making coffee, handing out madeleines and macarons. By the time everyone had been served, Becky felt hot and sweaty. She dabbed her skin with a disposable napkin and looked at Pascal, who nodded. It was time.

Feeling nervous, she struck a teaspoon against a coffee mug and all went quiet. Twenty-four faces were looking at her expectantly.

‘Bonjour,’ she said, glancing at Pascal then at the piece of paper in her hand, on which she’d written the translation of what she wanted to say. ‘Welcome everyone toLa Petite Pause. Your local café, with a new look.’ It was all the French she could manage and she knew her accent was off. But she’d wanted to show that she was trying.

Pascal then took over, speaking in rapid French. And at the end, Maud said a few words. There was silence. Then applause.

They milled around afterwards, collecting plates and cups, being congratulated. People dropped in and out, exclaiming, conversing together. Noting the art on the walls and the softness of the chairs. The newly painted decor and the new beverages and snacks on offer.

Sitting at the corner table with Maud, Becky sipped her latte and felt a warm, contented feeling come over her. They’d done it. They really had. And if she wanted, there was a beautiful life here for her. Even if it wasn’t forever. Even if it was just for a heartbeat.

When the café was closed and the final cup washed, she turned to Pascal and sank into his arms. He wrapped her in a tight embrace. ‘You did it,’ he said. ‘It was marvellous.’

‘Wedid it,’ she said. ‘And yes, it really was.’

He kissed her softly.

‘Is there something I should know?’ came a voice, as Maud brought her cup rather unsteadily to the sink and looked from one to the other.

They laughed. ‘Perhaps,’ Becky said. ‘We’ll see.’

‘And in the meantime, we should eat,’ Pascal said.

In her bedroom, working out which outfit to wear for dinner, she messaged Amber.

Becky

How are you today?

Amber

Yeah. OK. Kind of.

Becky

Wish I’d stayed.

Amber

No, you don’t. And it’s fine. Miss you though.

Becky

Me too. We complete each other!

Amber

Yes we do. Although it’s OK if you decide to move on, you know.

Becky

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