After a good day on the stall, I wander round the market, thinking I might be up for a couple more lavender plants. I see Serge, who greets me like an old friend. I tell him I’ve come to buy two more plants and he puts them into a box for me.
‘You’ve given me too many!’ I tell him.
‘Un cadeau, because of your beautiful smile,’ he says. ‘I am happy that the valley is coming back to life.’ I understand his words, and smile all the way home to plant them.
This morning, we finish baking in good time: soft, moist sponge, with sticky lemon drizzle and floral lavender.
We seem to have developed a good system for baking some of the favourites and introducing something new every day. The woman in the bakery van has offered to take some of my lavender tuiles and shortbread to sell on her rounds. I’ve accepted happily. The macarons still need to improve, but all the packages now have little stickers, saying the contents are from ‘Le Petit Mas de la Lavande, la Coeur de Provence’, with a little purple heart. It was Stephanie’s idea, and when we told the printer in town what we wanted, he gave me a very good deal and wished me luck. Later we took him some biscuits to thank him.
Stephanie has gone into town with Tomas to deliver today’s desserts to Henri. The woodpecker is hard at work in the copse of oak and pine trees where Stephanie’s caravan is now cleaned and polished to within an inch of its life. She even has plans to redo the paintwork in the same colours as our little stickers. A washing line is hanging between the trees, and though I’ve said that, now money is coming in, we can get some furniture and she can move into the house, she says she’d like to stay in the caravan. Finally, she has a home of her own.
Cyril, the red squirrel, is popping in and out of the bushes around where I’m working, teasing Ralph in a fruitless game of tag. Eventually he loses interest and goes back to chasing little white butterflies. The smell of lavender fills the air. Big fat bumblebees move throughout the original hedge, from bloom to bloom, and I’m hoping they’ll get to work on the new plants too.
In the distance the cockerel is still letting us know it’s another new day, even though it’s mid-morning. I’m stretching out my back, trowel in hand, when I hear the familiar sound of a vehicle coming up the drive and Ralph’s ecstatic welcoming barks.
I hear the door slam. It’s a sound I know well now: Fabien’s van door. My heart skips, even though I know it shouldn’t. But he is my friend, a good friend, and I’m pleased he’s here, but I know I have to speak to him about Stephanie: she blossoms every time he comes here, which he does a lot. Either with something that’s arrived at the brocante he thinks might suit the house, or something for Tomas, like the small truck he found in a house clearance and some cars, which Tomas adores. And Stephanie adores him for it, I can see.
‘Hey.’ I hear his voice and my heart leaps into my mouth.
‘Hey,’ I say, pulling off my gardening gloves.
He steps forward and kisses me on both cheeks. I hold my breath so that I can’t breathe in his deliciously spicy aftershave.
‘They’re looking good,’ he says.
‘Yes, I’m really pleased,’ I say, looking at the few plants, then the rest of the empty red earth, peppered with white stones, like confetti. ‘I just wish I could see this whole field covered.’ I glance at Serge’s.
‘Actually …’ says Fabien.
‘Were you looking for Stephanie?’ I say quickly, realizing he’s not here to chat with me. ‘She’s in town, delivering to Henri, with Tomas.’ I’m falling over my words and cringing at my clumsiness.
‘Actually,’ he repeats slowly, ‘it’s you I’ve come to see,’ and a large lump rises in my throat. Fabien is ten years younger than me. Of course there will never be anything between us. I just wish … What? That I was ten years younger? That I could have a child like Tomas? But I’m not, and I can’t.
‘Come,’ he tips his head towards the front of the house, ‘I have something for you.’ He smiles and my insides melt. I’m hot, very hot, and I put it down to hormones, and my premature change that has meant I can’t conceive. The hormones that Ollie blames for my defection and attempt at a new life. I grab a bottle of water off the terrace table and follow Fabien to the van. He walks around to the rear.
‘Here,’ he says. ‘These might help fill the field.’ He drops the back of the van and I see rows and rows of tiny lavender plants.
‘Uh …’ I catch my breath. ‘How … where?’
‘With Serge. We did a deal.’
‘But …’ I’m lost for words and all I can say is, ‘I need to pay you.’
He laughs. ‘Serge had lots of plants. He told you. He’s finding it harder and harder to manage his farm and he wanted you to have them. He’s delighted to have found them a home.’
‘This is amazing!’ I say. ‘The lavender farm here is coming back to life. Merci, Fabien.’
‘I’m glad you’re pleased,’ he says. ‘And life as a lavender farmer seems to suit you!’ His green eyes are dancing, fixed on me. My nerves are buzzing.
‘You are …’ I struggle to find the words ‘… such a good friend,’ I say, unable now to meet his eyes. ‘It wouldn’t have happened without you.’
‘A friend?’ I look up and he’s raising an eyebrow, making my heart squeeze. I look away and then I have to look back at him, something drawing me that I can’t resist.
‘You know, Del …’ he says quietly.
‘About Stephanie!’ I blurt, and he’s taken aback. ‘When you come here to visit and check the plants …’
He stares at me, his face moving closer to mine and I can’t move or pull my eyes away.
‘But it is not the plants I come to see …’ He smiles and my heart starts to pound.
‘No?’ I manage, my mouth dry.
‘No,’ he says, shaking his head, moving closer to me. ‘It’s you, Del. It’s you I come to see.’
‘Me?’
He nods.
‘But I’m …’ What? Older? Still married? Overweight? Desperate to be loved?
‘Beautiful,’ he says, and I can hardly believe I’m hearing the word. ‘You are beautiful.’ He takes my face in his hands. I want to argue, but can’t think what to say. Instead my heart is floating high above us, soaring and swooping. I feel as if I’m living in a dream. This gorgeous man, who makes my heart skip every time I see him, is telling me I’m beautiful.
‘But I thought you … I mean, I’m ten years older than you. I’m …’
‘Beautiful,’ he repeats, his eyes scanning my face. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry as he moves his lips towards mine. And although everything is telling me I shouldn’t be doing this, I can’t stop myself.
And just as his lips touch mine, they are gone. ‘Oooffff!’ He reels away and the dream is shattered.
‘Fabien!’ Tomas has launched himself at Fabien’s legs, taking him by surprise. We laugh, and I see Stephanie, back from her visit to town, her face as thunderous as it was the first time I met her. Cold and closed against the hurt in her heart.
‘Stephanie!’ I call, hoping she didn’t see what I think she might have seen. But she doesn’t answer and runs to the caravan. I hear the door slam. Fabien and I gaze at each other, worried.
‘I’ll go after her, explain,’ I say.
‘Explain what?’
‘That it was nothing …’ I wave a hand, trying to think on my feet ‘… just a silly kiss.’
‘Just a silly kiss?’ he says, his face darkening too.
‘Yes, I mean, no …’ That’s not what I meant!! ‘I mean …’ I have no idea what I mean or what it was. I just know how I feel and how I’ve made Stephanie feel.
‘I think I’d better go,’ says Fabien, closing the van on the lavender plants. And I’m flustered. I take hold of Tomas’s hand as he waves to Fabien, begging him to stay and play.
‘Fabien!’ I don’t want him to go like this. I need to explain. But ‘The plants!’ is all I can think of saying.
‘I’ll bring them back later,’ he says, gets into the cab and turns the van in the drive, accelerating at speed in a cloud of dust. Suddenly there’s the blast of a horn and he swerves to avoid another car coming up the drive. I look in the direction of the caravan, then at Tomas, still waving, and then at the car.
Ralph appears from the back of the house, barking with delight.
Who can this be?