Page 5 of Love In Provence
‘Well, you got yourself here. That was the right thing to do. Do you want to stay here in the apartment or come back to the farmhouse with us?’
‘I …’ She looks as lost as I know she’s feeling.
‘Stay with us at the farmhouse,’ I say, taking control of the situation.
‘Oh, I don’t know … Maybe I should go back to the UK. Back to where I left off before …’ She takes a shuddering breath.
‘Stay,’ I insist, wanting to take care of her, wanting us to be together while this news sinks in. ‘Stay, just for a while. At least until after the harvest.’ I’m thinking on my feet. ‘The pickers are arriving soon. I need all the help I can get. Please do.’ I try to smile, hoping I’m helping, but it hurts.
She nods and sniffs.
Fabien’s phone rings. He looks down at it, rejects the call and pockets the phone.
‘I’ll give you some time. Maybe have a rest,’ I say to Rhi, despite the chainsaws and shouts from the street where I can hear that the olive tree is being removed from the front window. I’m not sure rest will be possible, but maybe some time on her own, with her memories here …
I reach out to touch Fabien’s hand as I cross to the stairs, trying to process the news. Henri’s gone yet everything feels as if he’s here, all around us. I run my hand along the wooden wall, almost feeling his presence. Henri is the beating heart of this place, not just of the bistro but of the town. Everything good that happens here is down to Henri. How can he not be alive?
I hear Fabien speak to Rhi, then follow me downstairs, giving Rhi the time she needs in the apartment on her own.
‘She’s going to have a lie-down and then I’ll bring her to the farmhouse,’ he says, as he reaches the bottom of the stairs. The smell of the bouillabaisse, which Henri taught me to make, is like a hug. And I feel like falling into Fabien and letting the world around me disappear. He hugs me. A Fabien hug. I want to collapse into sobs and stay in his arms. But I can’t. I have to be here for Rhi. And to let others know. He kisses the top of my head, then lifts it a little so our foreheadsmeet, comforting each other. The time will come soon when we can take in this news together, talk about it, cry, rage at the unfairness. But, right now, we’re not ready.
I lean against him. ‘Merci,’ I say. Thoughts are whirling in my head. People we need to inform. People who will want to grieve for him, shopkeepers and suppliers, those he’s helped, like the people at the riverside clearing. His community.
‘I’ll go and speak to the mayor and Carine. Do you want me to tell Stephanie or will you?’ asks Fabien.
‘I will,’ I say. I pull out my phone to message her and ask her to meet me at the farmhouse.
‘Okay.’ He kisses the top of my head again, leaving his lips there for a few seconds. I want to stay in the moment for ever. I close my eyes tightly. But I have to move. There are people who need us right now. We have to stay strong.
He pulls away and, with a glance back at me, leaves from the front door. The tree surgeon andpompiersare packing up, pulling off their helmets and jackets as the cold wind has dropped. The air is warmer.
Let’s hope the mistral has done with creating havoc now, I think, as I watch him go. My aching heart wants to hold on to everything dear to me, including Fabien.
That night, I fall into bed, exhausted. Rhi is tucked up in the farmhouse too, back in the room she stayed inwhen she first visited and met Henri. I can hear her snoring – the medication the pharmacist suggested for a good night’s sleep must be working.
I could barely get myself to bed. Ralph is curled up in the kitchen. I keep remembering the shock and pain on Stephanie’s face when I told her about Henri. She may not be my daughter or younger sister, but she’s as close as it gets. She’s family and I’m hurting for her. She’s lost the man who was a rock for her when she had no family at all. I wish I could take away her pain.
I slide under the light covers, the window open, and outside just the merest whisper of wind in the trees. I can smell the ground where the lavender is planted. It’s nearly in flower and the fragrance will soon be here, a scent that never fails to calm me, even the thought of it. But tonight is different. I lie there, thinking about Henri, Stephanie and the shopkeepers who came to speak to me once word had started to spread through the town.
Fabien slides in beside me. I’m usually asleep before he comes to bed, after dropping off a house clearance at thebrocante. I’m exhausted after an early start with another in the morning.
He runs his hand down my arm, and then across my stomach. But I feel nothing. I know he’s trying to comfort me, but I don’t know what I want. I feel numb. His hand moves across my body. I’m usually excited and energized by his touch, but not tonight. I kiss himlightly on the lips and tell him I’m tired. Like so many other times recently, I turn away, expecting sleep to come quickly. But not tonight. Tonight I curl into a ball trying to stop the words running around my head:Henri is dead.Nothing can change that. Fabien eventually turns away from me, his back against mine. Something I thought would never happen. Later that night, when neither of us is sleeping, I hear him leave the bedroom and head for the spare room next door. I feel wretched for me, for Fabien, because of Henri. Maybe Fabien needed holding, comforting. Tomorrow I’ll put it right with him. Tomorrow I’ll show him how much I love and appreciate him. Because I do and I need to make time to tell him. We need to be there for each other. I can’t let the mistral make any more trouble than it already has done. They say trouble comes in threes, but tomorrow I’m going to make sure nothing happens to affect Fabien and me.
5
I’m awake early. Actually, I’m not sure I’ve slept. But the first thing I think about is Fabien, who is not beside me. Usually I’m first to slide out of bed and creep away in the early mornings. Then I think of Henri … and Rhi. It wasn’t a nightmare. Henri really is dead and Rhi is here without him. Then I remember that the pickers will soon be arriving at the farm, and the harvest will begin any day now. I throw back the covers, then the shutters on the window, and breathe in the scent of the early-morning earth, the lavender that is nearly ready to pick.
Then I smell something else, something just as welcome as lavender blossom. Coffee, coming from the kitchen. Someone has beaten me to it. I grab my silk dressing-gown and slide into it as I head down thestairs to the kitchen, drawn by the need to put things right with Fabien.
In the kitchen he’s standing with his back to me, on his phone, texting. Ralph jumps up to greet me and I ruffle his big head. He follows me as I walk over to Fabien and slide my arms around his waist.
‘Bonjour,’ I say huskily, my eyes sore from lack of sleep.
He turns to me and I wonder whether there’ll be any awkwardness between us, but he puts his arms around me, his face softens, and I reach up to kiss him, then lean my head against his chest.
‘I made you coffee. I was about to bring it to you,’ he says.
I spot the two mugs on the work surface. ‘Merci. Fabien, about last …’
