Page 68 of Love In Provence
This feels like a battle. One I want to win. Clearly this town isn’t big enough for me and Zacharie.
But what am I going to do next?
As the meal draws to a close, Fabien kisses the top of my head and follows the other band members to the parked van. They return with their instruments. And in no time, there is jazzy blues playing out from the courtyard. Faces pop in around the gate, people leaving l’expérience, and soon the courtyard is filling with people dancing and clapping.
Fabien presses me to him between songs and whispers in my ear, ‘I have news.’ I look at him curiously. ‘I will be home soon. One more week. They have found a guitarist.’
Suddenly I want to cry. ‘You’re coming home?’
‘Yes, in a week. At the end of the harvest.’
I hug him tightly, then let him rejoin the band for a final number.
Later that night, as Fabien joins me in our room, and the rest of the band bed down in the barn and the minibus, it’s the joy that I remember most about the evening. The fun and the laughter.
‘A complaint about the music?’ I’m staring at the localgendarme, having waved off Fabien and the band the following morning. I’m still wondering about Monique doing her early-morning yoga on the terrace and trying to shake away the image of her supple body. Mine aches.
Thegendarmeis looking out over the lavender field as the team pick in the early-morning sunlight.
‘Who complained?’ As if I need telling.
‘I can’t say, I’m sorry.’
‘No licence? It was just Fabien, in his own business, with his band.’
‘Oui, je sais,’ says thegendarme. ‘But I’m obliged to tell you. No more live music without a licence.’
The sooner I get the restaurant back, the better. But how?
26
‘Okay,’ I say, as we all gather on the terrace. The bakery van has just been and there are freshly baked baguettes, a pile of buttery croissants, an almond swirl for Graham, a chocolate croissant for Maria and another for little Louis, who is eating with Keith while Stephanie makes her deliveries.
‘So, what’s the plan?’ Ed asks.
‘We can’t have live music, but they didn’t say anything about recorded music. We still have the record player and Edith Piaf.’
‘We need to make sure l’expérience knows we’re not going anywhere,’ says Maria.
‘We’ve got a write-up on a blog!’ says Jen. And then her shoulders drop. ‘So have l’expérience. It says that both are great places to eat but for different reasons.’
‘Let’s open two nights a week, double our takings,’ says Maria. ‘More even!’
‘Different set menu on each night,’ says Jen.
‘How’s the harvest doing?’ I ask. I haven’t been in the field for a few days.
‘We’re nearly done,’ says Graham, who’s taken up the reins on getting the last of the lavender in with Samuel and a couple of the other men from the riverside clearing.
‘I say we give it a go, for a week, open every night,’ says Maria. ‘It’s our final week here.’
‘Show l’expérience we’re as busy as they are,’ says Ed.
There’s just one week left until Fabien comes home. Until the harvest is officially over.
‘I’m in!’ says Jen.
‘Me too!’ says Keith.
