I stand in the little kitchen and look at the empty fridge. I’m on my own here now, doing this totally by myself. Soon people will be arriving, wanting to know the plat du jour, and this evening there will be hungry mouths to feed at the riverside clearing. I hold on to the fridge door and rest my head against it. I’m not sure I can do this. Then I think of Henri lying in hospital, fighting for his life. If he can get through that, I can get through this, I tell myself, and pull myself up straight. I collect the shopping baskets hanging on the cupboard door and head into the market, with no idea what I’m going to cook, but knowing that the place and its people won’t let me down. I still have no idea if Henri is going to be okay. Fabien has been in touch with Henri’s daughters in Australia and America. He says he’ll stay in touch and they’ll come over if things don’t improve. My memories of Mum and her stroke haunt me. There’s only one way I can get through this and that’s to throw myself into cooking for the bistro and the clearing. And I just hope that while I’m cooking Henri is getting better, not worse.
By eleven, everything is in hand. I go to the chalkboard and wipe off yesterday’s special, replacing it with today’s. Stephanie has been working hard all morning, JB at her side, Tomas handing out samples and eating them too. People are buying. Stephanie has done a lovely job of putting the biscuits in little paper parcels, tied with some ribbon and a sprig of lavender from the field. The tourists are loving them. I write on the board ‘Poisson de Provence’, soft white cod, sautéed with tomatoes, olives, onions, garlic and peppers, flavoured with herbes de Provence, including a sprinkling of lavender, of course. Simple but amazingly delicious. I dust off my hands, then put the board out for customers to see, feeling proud of myself.
I glance up and down the cobbled street towards the busy market square, then the other way, across the road at the top towards the brocante. Fabien appears, and my heart lurches. It’s almost as if I’ve conjured him up. I don’t know whether to turn and walk inside, as if I wasn’t hoping he’d appear, or stand and stare. Instead, I stand and look the other way, at Stephanie, my heart thumping, Fabien walking towards me in his battered leather jacket and bandanna around his neck, despite the sunshine. I can smell him before I see him. I turn, the sun catching in my eyes so I can’t see his expression. What if it’s Henri? What if it’s bad news? My heart is thundering now.
‘Bonjour, Del,’ he says, and kisses me on each cheek. I feel the bristles of his chin and wonder if it stays there a fraction of a second longer than I’m expecting and if he feels it too. Or did I imagine that? Of course I did. I shut my eyes and shake it off.
‘How is Henri?’ I ask, holding my breath. We had agreed that Fabien would be the one to telephone the hospital as he’d understand more of what was said than Rhi or I.
His face breaks into a smile. ‘He’s doing okay. How do you say? Holding his own?’ His smile broadens and my heart squeezes.
I nod and smile. ‘Good.’
‘I am going to see him. Rhi has offered to come with me.’ He looks at me and I wonder if he’s waiting for some sort of reaction, to see how I feel about them going together.
‘Of course!’ I say quickly, waving the tea towel that was tucked into my apron.
‘You wouldn’t rather see him yourself?’ he asks.
My heart is saying, ‘Yes! I want to see Henri, and I want to go with you!’ But my mouth says, ‘No, of course you must go with Rhi! I have so much to do here.’ I point back towards the kitchen, thinking Rhi could probably do it, but I want to do it for Henri, to say thank you for everything he did for me. It would be so much more straightforward if I could have fallen in love with Henri than – I’m finally admitting it to myself – with a man I have told I’m not interested because I was too scared to follow my heart.
I have to find a way to stop myself falling deeply in love with Fabien. And this is a good start.
‘Go with Rhi. Have fun!’ And then, ‘Or as much fun as you can have at a hospital.’ And then, ‘Give Henri my love, lots of love. Tell him everything here is fine. And,’ I swallow, ‘I’m looking forward to seeing him when he comes home.’
Fabien nods slowly, as if imprinting the message on his memory. ‘I will,’ he says. ‘In the meantime, I’m going to ask JB to look after the brocante until I return.’
‘Oh, that’s an excellent idea!’ I say warmly. Why is this man just so blooming lovely?
He nods, with a small smile, says he’ll be back when he’s seen Henri, then walks over to Stephanie and kisses her on each cheek, like he kissed me. He kisses Tomas, who is delighted to see his friend and hugs him. Then Fabien shakes JB’s hand and puts his other arm around his shoulders in a brotherly way. He’s asking him to mind the brocante, pointing. JB looks at Stephanie, who nods and shoos them away, laughing. My heart swells, as Fabien and JB walk up the cobbled street towards the main road and across to the brocante. Fabien still has his arm around JB. They see me and wave.
Lou and Rhi are at Le Petit Mas. Rhi has a surprise for Alain, she told me last night, and will meet me at the riverside clearing this evening.
After the lunchtime rush, Stephanie packs up the stall and becomes the waitress at the bistro. Tomas delivers bread to the tables and brings a smile to everyone’s face. Especially when he helps himself to a piece of bread before delivering the basket, or drops a piece on the floor and tries to return it to the basket. Stephanie intervenes to the customer’s amusement. Each plate goes out with a little sprig of lavender from the bunch I brought from home. A little nod to the old recipe book, which has lavender at the heart of every dish.
Then coffees are served, after I’ve wrestled with the machine and finally worked it out with the help of a friendly customer. The place is filled with good wishes for Henri, and I can’t remember when I’ve ever felt so tired, so happy and so at home. After the washing-up has been done, Stephanie, Tomas and I sit down to eat together, in front of the window, with a small carafe of wine, and watch the world go by. Anyone looking at us would be forgiven for thinking we were a family finishing our day’s work and eating together. I feel so lucky to have come here, stayed and met these people. And I’m going to make sure I keep this bistro going until Henri is home and ready to take over. I feel blessed to be surrounded by such love. I know Mum would be very proud of what I did today. I could hear her as I cooked, right beside me, watching over me, guiding me, just like I did with Stephanie when she was learning to make the biscuits. I may never have children of my own but I feel as if I passed on the love in that kitchen, from Mum, to me, to Stephanie, who will pass it on to Tomas. That kitchen helped us all to find our way in life again.
‘Okay,’ I say, standing to clear away our plates, glasses, coffee cups and ice-cream bowls. My feet and back ache and I’m shattered, but our work isn’t done yet. ‘Let’s take this lot to the riverside clearing,’ I say.