Page 29 of Love In Provence
‘Ed is,’ I say, smiling. ‘He’s making duck and green olives.’
‘I saw a recipe for it and wanted to give it a try here, with the fresh ingredients.’ He seems to be blushing. Carine can have this effect on men.
‘It sounds good. Did you add orange?’ she questions.
He smiles. ‘I did.’ He’s seemingly finding his feet again. ‘Are you staying to dinner? Perhaps you could tell me what you think.’
I still can’t believe this is the same quiet Ed who has been here for the past few days.
‘Oh, yes, do, Carine!’ I say.
‘Well, if there is enough …’ She smiles back at Ed.
‘There’s plenty,’ he says.
‘Let’s go and join the others,’ I suggest. We stand and walk slowly with our wine glasses. The sun is starting to set over the lavender field. The view comforts me as it always does, filling my head and my soul.
‘What were you saying, Carine? You wanted to ask Rhi something?’ I ask, as we walk. We stop, our heads slightly lifted to take in the heady scent of pine, wild rosemary and lavender, the sound of cicadas, the sight of the swifts dipping and diving over the cut lavender plants, and the cooling air on our faces.
‘It’s just that people are asking about a service, afuneral for Henri. Everyone wants to come together to grieve.’
I look at Rhi. ‘It’s been on my mind too,’ I say. But I’m glad it was Carine who brought up the subject. I haven’t felt able to mention it yet when Rhi’s just getting upright again.
Rhi takes a sip of the light rosé. ‘You’re right. He can’t stay in my handbag for ever,’ she says, and we all laugh.
‘I can make the arrangements, if you like. Speak to whoever. He wasn’t one for church, but it would be good to have some kind of a formal send-off,’ Carine says.
‘It would,’ agrees Rhi. ‘Thank you. I’ll let his family know once the arrangements are in place. It would be great if they came. I know Henri didn’t see eye to eye with his children but he never stopped loving them. You don’t, do you?’
Everyone agrees, reminding me of the children Fabien and I never had. I feel the tiniest of holes for them that I try to forget about, but every now and again it lets me know it’s there and will never completely go away, no matter what. I wish it would. We agreed it didn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter. It doesn’t. We have each other and it’s all we need. We are a family and I’m grateful for that. But every now and then I grieve for the baby I never held in my arms. But that time has gone. We have more than enough on ourplates and hardly see each other. That’s what needs to change when – if – he comes back.
‘How’s Fabien?’ Carine asks, breaking into my thoughts.
‘He’s fine.’ I stumble over my words. ‘The tour’s going well. But they’re trying to find a bass guitarist to take his place so he can come home. But he’s really enjoying it. Even if his back is aching from sleeping in tents or on the bus. And he’s enjoying being with old friends. It’s good for him, I think.’
‘Ah, don’t tell me. Monique!’ Carine shakes her head.
‘Monique? The saxophonist and singer? Yes. She’s on tour with them.’
Carine tuts.
‘What’s wrong with Monique?’ I laugh, but it sounds forced. I think back to his phone call, Monique calling to him. They were going out for lunch. They’re just friends, I tell myself. So why am I suddenly feeling … jealous? Is it her or the band he’s enjoying being with, making him feel young again?
Carine’s still sucking the arm of her sunglasses, a habit she’s got into since having Clémentine and cutting down on her smoking.
She gives another tut and a phffffff. ‘Monique and Fabien were together for a while in the band’s early days. Just sort of casually. But she never really got over them finishing, him coming to live here and take over the business.’
Suddenly my heart is thundering. ‘He didn’t mention that,’ I say.
She waves a hand. ‘It was ages ago. She’s probably married with children by now – and, besides, Fabien is with you.’
I think briefly of Carine’s relationship with the mayor but I don’t mention it. It does nothing to put my mind at rest.
‘So, Henri’s ceremony,’ says Rhi, moving the conversation onto safer ground.
‘Yes, the ceremony. We’ll make it a town event.’
‘Fabien has promised to be back for it.’ And now, no matter what’s happened or been said, that is exactly what I want. I want him to come home.
