Page 78 of Love In Provence
‘Not likely! Just a matter of finding someone to cook for.’ He looks up at her and she smiles.
‘Or share the cooking maybe.’ Then, ‘But I’m not sure there’s much I could be doing in South Wales. I should head home really.’
‘And me.’
I want to dive in and tell them they’re perfect for each other and need to follow their hearts, but that’s for them to work out. Not me … not any more.
I promised Fabien that it’s time for us to think about us. We’ll let others work things out for themselves.
‘And what about you, Del?’ asks Keith. ‘What will you do when Henri’s sells?’
I frown. ‘I’m not sure.’
‘You don’t mind not getting the place back?’
‘I thought that was all I wanted, until I realized it’s not about the place but the people. That’s what’s important. Henri brought us together and that won’t change. We don’t need the building to tell us that.’
The wind whips up stronger and harder. The warehouse doors slam shut.
‘Whoa!’
‘Gosh, I don’t know what Zacharie’s cooking tonight, but it smells like he’s burned it!’ says Ed.
‘Yes,’ we all agree, sniffing.
‘Definitely like burning!’ I say.
And we laugh.
‘It’s all about l’expérience!’ I smile. I breathe in the smell again and suddenly I’m not smiling. ‘It’s burning!’
I run out of the gates and to the end of the street, but I don’t need to be told twice what’s happening. The wind whips up my hair and the edges of my dress. The blood drains from my face.
‘No, no,nooooooooo!’
I hear someone’s voice behind me. It may be Jen, calling to the others. ‘Henri’s is on fire!’
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I start to run down the street.
‘Oh, no, oh, no!’ I’m repeating, as I stumble over the shiny cobbles.
I can see smoke billowing from the front windows. The air is now thick with the smell of burning.
Outside, a few diners are staggering, leaning on each other, catching their breath and watching the smoke as it builds inside the restaurant. The wind is whipping it up. The fallen brazier has set alight the awning and flames lick up the walls to the shutters above.
Suddenly there’s a bang, and flames appear from the roof. People around me jump backwards, diners who are coughing and clinging to each other, along with kitchen staff and waiters.
‘Who’s in there? Is everyone out?’ I shout. I can see the sous-chef, but there’s someone I can’t see. It seemseveryone is out, except one person. I can feel the anxiety in the air.
‘Zacharie! Where is Zacharie the chef?’ I ask.
Behind me the whole group from the supper club have arrived and are standing watching the scene unfold, holding each other’s hands. There is a hand on my shoulder. I don’t know whose it is.
‘Fabien – where’s Fabien?’ I look around all the faces, trying to spot him.
‘Not back from Serge’s?’ says Graham.
