Page 59 of Love In Provence
‘I’ve loaded all the washing-up into boxes,’ says Jen. ‘I suggest I come back down in the morning, test-run the new clutch and pick it up.’
‘And the tablecloths and napkins for washing,’ says Keith.
‘Just the tables and chairs to go away.’
‘It’ll be like we were never here,’ I say, and hope that’s not the case.
There are a few desserts left that Keith made with Stephanie earlier today. I pick up two plates and two glasses of wine. The dessert that had the mayor in tears, reminding him of his childhood. A chocolate mousse, with nuggets of nougat, soft vanilla ice cream and a drizzle of warmed honey and crumbled almonds on the top, like the bar of Toblerone his father would bring him, taking him right back to his childhood, where most of us feel happy, safe, and where the troubles of today are a long way off.
‘What about same time next week?’ Graham says, enjoying the dessert.
‘I don’t know,’ I say. ‘We’ve made a lot tonight,enough to keep us going. The harvest will be over in a week or so.’
‘I’d like to stay for next week,’ says Maria. ‘I feel I’m only just starting to find myself.’
‘I’d like to stay too,’ says Ed, pushing away his phone as a message heralds its arrival. He tuts. ‘It’s my dad, wanting to know when I’ll be back. He saw the man who owns the law firm I’m returning to today.’
‘I love this. It’s just like being at my nan’s,’ says Maria.
‘My nan used to make us mulligatawny packet soup with extra curry powder and pretend she’d made it herself,’ says Keith.
‘What?’
‘And our parents would sit there glaring at us not to say anything. It was disgusting.’ He laughs.
‘Well, I don’t think we should put that on the menu,’ says Jen.
‘But barbecuing is what I loved most. I loved barbecuing when I was a child. We’d go camping in the woods. My dad would light a fire to see off the mozzies, and we’d sit in silence and watch the flames. I think that’s when I felt closest to my dad. Just us, in our thoughts, feeding the fire and cooking on it, fish we’d caught mostly. I felt happy then,’ says Keith.
‘Do you and your dad still barbecue now?’
He shakes his head. ‘No, we don’t really talk. He didn’t find my life choices very easy to accept. So sad.He missed out on so much with our son growing up, being a grandparent.’
‘Maybe you should invite him to barbecue again.’
‘Maybe I should …’
‘Well, we should definitely barbecue again next Friday for supper club,’ says Ed.
‘Maybe get some live music,’ says Jen.
‘Music?’
‘Yes – we saw someone busking at the market. Invite them here to play for the supper club.’
‘Del, are you okay?’ asks Ed.
‘Sorry, I was in a world of my own. Just thinking. About Zacharie. He didn’t come.’
‘No, but lots of locals did,’ says Rhi.
‘We haven’t persuaded him to change his menu yet,’ says Jen. ‘I say we keep going until he comes.’
This group, who were strangers not long ago, are now supporting me and each other as friends. I owe it to them at least to try.
‘I’ll be back,’ I say, standing, picking up two plates of desserts.
‘Where are you going?’
