‘Juliet,’ I say firmly to Laurent. ‘I am Juliet,’ and leave it at that.
‘Well, Juliet,’ he smiles, ‘enchanté.’ He takes a moment to look past me, clearly noticing the rubbish I’ve cleared. ‘When I appeared the other day, as I said, I didn’t realise anyone was here, or that it had been sold. My apologies, but I left some of my belongings here, in my haste.’
‘I’ll bet,’ I say, determined not to be taken for a fool. I won’t let the mill be dragged into some grubby drug-dealing scandal before I’ve even had a go at making it work.
He points to the room behind me. ‘If I could just fetch what I need,’ he says politely.
‘No,’ I say firmly. I’ve come too far to suffer fools gladly.
‘Oh.’ He raises his eyebrows in surprise and I know I’m being blunt, possibly rude, but I’m not falling for his lies. ‘Well, perhaps you could get them for me.’
I narrow my eyes. ‘What was it you were looking for?’ I raise an eyebrow.
‘I left a bag of tools here. In the cellar.’ He points in the direction of the trapdoor. ‘And a few others about the place.’
‘I’ll get them.’ I wonder if he thinks the coffee tin will be with the tools. ‘Wait there.’ I hear him sigh. And then I add, ‘I’ll leave them outside the cellar door for you.’ I shut the front door and bolt it. I’m not sure where this new-found bravery has come from, but I quite like it. My heart is pumping a little faster. He could have got nasty, I suppose. I didn’t think of that, just acted on impulse. A bit like this whole move. Going with my impulses seems to be the only way I can live my life at the moment. I justwasn’t going to let a drug-dealer into my house to discover his drugs are gone.
I climb down the steps into the cellar, gather up the bag of tools and drag it to the back door where Laurent is waiting. I make a mental note to put the sideboard back over the trapdoor before I go to bed tonight.
‘Here,’ I say, thrusting the bag towards him. ‘Anything else that may have been left here has been disposed of,’ I say. ‘According to the estate agent, everything belongs to me now. So I have cleared the place of any … unwanted items.’
‘Merci,’ he says. ‘By way of an apology, please come to thetabacand I will buy you a coffee or a drink, whatever you would like.’
This takes me by surprise. He’s holding the toolbag. He’s not asked about the tin and he’s inviting me to thetabacfor a coffee. I’m still not going to let down my guard, or invite him in to search out what he’s really come for: the tin is here but the contents aren’t.
‘Okay. I accept,’ I say, and add, ‘For my business’s sake. This is my new start. I don’t want anything ruining it. I want this place to be respectable and popular.’
He nods. ‘I understand. Well,bonne chance,’ he says. He looks up at the building. ‘This place holds a lot of secrets,’ he says. ‘Look after them.’
With that, he drops his head and turns to leave. A lone fisherwoman is returning and they stop to greet each other, clearly exchanging the news about the old mill being sold. Or, probably, about me …
I slam the door and head upstairs, drop the trapdoor at the top of the wooden stairs and pull the sideboard over the opening. I then stand with my back to it. I feel slightly unnerved but also a little proud of myself too. Now, hopefully, I can do what I came here to do: open my business.
After an odd start to the day, I decide to cheer myself up with a visit to some of the localbrocantes, maybe pick up some more crockery. I get into the car and soon I’m boosting my confidence by negotiating a good price for tablecloths and more napkins. I couldn’t resist a bargain of tables and chairs from a house clearance that thebrocanteowner will deliver to the mill. So far today I have seen off a drug dealer from my premises and haggled hard for table linen in France. I’ve spent a big part of what’s left of my savings on furniture. I’m committed. All in all, a long way from life back home, and I’m on a journey to create something of my own. It feels really good.
The following day, the sun is shining again and I have my usual morning coffee outside, taking in the mist as it lifts and breathing fresh air. I message the family WhatsApp group and Annie, with a photograph. Maddie replies and so does Jake, saying life in Spain is ‘hectic’. I wonder if it’s everything he hoped it would be. Pete sends a message to say the window cleaner has been and all is well. Annie takes longer to answer but tells me my new place looks like heaven.
As I stand to go inside, the pretty fisherwoman arrives and heads for her usual spot by the lake. ‘Bonjour,’ she greets me, and I wish we could move beyond these basic niceties and start to become friends. But she carries on to her spot on the big flat rock. I turn back to the mill. Today, I plan to start painting.
I wonder whether to visit the mayor’s office to find out if there is any news on my visa, but I asked when I went into themairiefor directions to the local dump to get rid of the rubbish.
‘Non,’ the woman on Reception had flatly replied. They would email when they had an answer for me. There wasn’t much more of a discussion to be had.
I decide to get stuck in here. I’m sure my visa will be sorted soon, and I want to be trading as quickly as possible with theheight of summer on its way and all the walkers and families coming to the area. As long as I have my visa in place by the end of the month, I’ll be able to open.
I turn on my phone’s radio and lay out a couple of dustsheets I’ve brought in preparation for giving the main room a lick of white paint. I turn the radio up louder and pull a baseball cap over my hair, just as a knock at the door makes me jump.
If it’s Laurent, with some lame excuse to come in and nose around, then I’m ready for him. I take a deep breath, turn off the radio, unbolt and pull back the heavy door, fully prepared to send him on his way.
The sunshine piles in and for a moment I’m taken aback. ‘Oh, it’s you,’ I say, smiling. It’s Claude, the baker from the vending machine with the very attractive smile.
‘Hi.’ He holds out a hand to shake mine, then pulls me closer to kiss me on each cheek, making me feel just as he did the other day in the village square: slightly shy, attractive,seen.
‘I came to see how your plans are happening,’ he says.
‘Well, I’m getting there,’ I say, quickly pulling off my baseball cap, keen not to look too scruffy. ‘The place is getting cleaner by the minute.’
‘It looks great!’
