Page 34 of Love In Provence
‘Hey, now,’ says Graham, sharply.
‘How dare you?’ Jen cuts in.
I had not seen our lunch going like this. ‘I think you’d better go,’ I tell him.
‘I shall. Enjoy your picnic.’ He turns to Rhi. ‘But first – Rhi, is it?’ I’m sure he knows her name but is just doing it for effect. ‘You have something that belongs to me?’
I glare at him. ‘She does?’
He stares at me with ridiculously familiar eyes, the same shape and colour but lacking the maturity, sense and kindness of his father.
‘Yes. My father,’ he says, and Rhi’s hand flies to hermouth. ‘Could you hand him over, please? I’ll be arranging a proper funeral. I’d like his ashes.’ He holds out a hand.
‘About the funeral,’ I say, as calmly as I can. ‘We will all want to be involved with that. We have some ideas. Favourite music. Perhaps we could get someone to speak about the work he has done in the town, the people he has helped. And open the bistro so that people can come back there for canapés and drinks. Reopening Henri’s with Henri right there!’ I try to mend the cracks that have quickly appeared between us.
‘I have a meeting to be at. Now, his ashes?’
Rhi walks to the farmhouse, and we stand in silence as she returns with the urn, holding it tightly to her, sniffing but more composed.
‘As I said, I had some ideas about his funeral. Perhaps we can meet for coffee and discuss them.’
‘That won’t be necessary. Thank you,’ he says.
‘What do you mean, it won’t be necessary?’ I ask.
‘I’ll be arranging a quick and very private service.’ He’s prising the urn away from Rhi. She clings to it before she lets it go. He holds it out in front of him, like a piece of decaying fish.
‘A private service?’
‘Yes, a family one. Just us.’
‘Wait. You can’t do that!’ Rhi says angrily.
‘I think you’ll find I can. My sister and I want a small, quick service so we can move on with our lives. I suggest you do too.’
With that, Rhi runs into the house, tears streaming down her face.
14
I’m so cross. Cross with Henri’s son for his rudeness, cross with Henri for not being here, the voice of reason when I need him. Most of all I’m cross with myself for doubting Fabien. I want to ring him and tell him to take all the time he needs, and to put things right with him.
I’ve spent the afternoon with Rhi. After she had handed over the ashes to Zacharie, he drove off at speed. I told Stephanie what’s been happening, then had little Louis so she could work in the baking unit. And all afternoon my fingers have been itching to call up Fabien’s Facebook page on my phone. Just to see what Monique looks like. But why? I ask myself crossly. This is Fabien! He’s not going to cheat on me. Maybe not, says another voice, but does he still want to be here with you?
And as the sun starts to set I realize I’ve dropped another ball. I haven’t organized any food for the pickers. We said we’d take it in turns to cook, but I should have gone out and bought what they needed. ‘Shit!’ I say. Everything at Le Petit Mas is going backwards. Just a few weeks ago I cooked in the bistro every day, spoke French, had a partner I loved and trusted. Now I can’t think of a single thing to cook and am wondering if my partner still wants me or if he’s hooking up with his ex, a woman ten years younger than me. Everything has gone wrong since the mistral.
‘Sorry!’ I say, running into the open-side barn where the outdoor kitchen is. ‘I just lost track of time. I can go and get us pizzas …’ I stop in my tracks. I look at the table, which is laid, with jugs of water and wine, and the kitchen area is a hive of activity.
They stop what they’re doing and turn to look at me. Maria pours a glass of wine and hands it to me. ‘It’s a bit of a pick-and-mix this evening,’ she says. ‘I hope you don’t mind but we went through your fridge and cupboards while you were walking in the lavender field with Rhi and little Louis.’
I stare at the table and take in the setting, complete with pots of lavender.
‘We thought you might need a bit of … Well, we just wanted to help.’
‘We thought you could do with a bit of cheering up,’ says Keith.
‘Mind? Of course I don’t mind! This is amazing!’ I say, tears prickling my eyes yet again. ‘And it definitely has cheered me up! Thank you!’
‘We couldn’t decide what to make, so we all suggested different dishes to bring to the table,’ says Ed.
