‘Yes. Thank you.Merci… Julie?’
‘Juliet,’ I say, through gritted teeth.
He looks at me, then at Laurent. ‘Lovely to see two people so happy in each other’s company,’ he says with a sickly smile. ‘I hope nothing comes in the path of such a blossoming friendship.’ He smirks and Laurent narrows his eyes as my mouth goes dry.
‘Well, thanks for popping in, Claude,’ I say, my fight reignited. ‘I’m sure we’ll work things out.’ I’m not sure if I’m referring to him and me, or Laurent and me. ‘Plenty of room for us all here, I’m sure. See you at the market.’ I skirt around him and hold the door open, the bell tinkling.
He leaves, slowly, still smirking. His snake eyes mirror how they looked on that regrettable day. I was desperate to find myself but, instead, I found someone I didn’t like – in him, and in me. I want him out of the bakery, because it’s here I’ve finally found my happy place. Being here, with Madame B, in the early-morning glow of the lights and the hum of the ovens. In the smell of the bread as it starts to bake. The arrival of our first customers. The coffee and the greeting ritual, the chatter from the women, meeting and buying their bread, gathering around the table.
I’ve found my purpose. I look at Laurent. But I know Claude is right. I can’t get close to this man. I can’t – not after what I’ve done, with the one man he hates, whose grandfather nearly destroyed his family for good. I can’t ever let him know that I nearly made the same dreadful mistake, almost choosing the wrong man. But I can still enjoy his company, share his love of producing flour at the mill, and the bread we make with it. A mutual pride and passion, which includes the friendship I’ve made with Madame B. Like leaving the dough to prove overnight, good things take time and judgement. They takesavoirfaire.
And Claude may have taken today’s money – which I needed in my bank account to show the mayor I was in profit – but I’m not done yet. I’ll do everything to stop that man running me out of town.
Madame B comes back into the shop with Bibi on a lead.
‘I’ll take all the baguettes we’ve got left, and then as many as you can bake while I’m out. I’m going to get to as many villages as I can, visit farms and hamlets, see if they’d like bread brought to them. It could be a regular thing.’
She nods and gets to work.
‘Do you need a hand?’ asks Laurent. ‘You look like you’re on a mission.’
I smile. ‘That would be very kind. And, yes, I am.’
With twice as many pairs of hands, we sell twice as much bread. We arrive in small hamlets with a toot of the horn, dropping down Dolly’s hatch and selling to the queue that quickly forms when they hear we’ve arrived. Then we move on to the next village, where people are getting to know us and ignoring the vending machine.
We even return to the bakery and load up again, making afternoon visits to other villages, pulling up in the squares,selling to people who are keen to know the story of the mill coming back to life and quick to grab their purses to buy from us. We hear people say they hope we’ll be back soon as we drive away.
Laurent and I work around each other in the small, intimate space of Dolly, with jokes and laughter, smiling at the customers who are sharing their appreciation for the bread, talking with each other and catching up on news. Getting daily bread is so much more than coming home with a baguette from the vending machine.
‘Are you sure thetabacisn’t missing you?’ I ask Laurent, on his third day out with me.
He laughs. ‘Have you seen how many customers I don’t have?’
The following morning, the village women are in to buy baguettes as we load the bakery van. By the time we return to theboulangerie, the netting in the front window has been pulled to the side – there are no more secrets. Those three women are enjoying their coffee and a catch-up as their husbands do the same on the other side of the glass outside.
Laurent and I soon get in a routine with Dolly. As we pull up in the next hamlet, Laurent engages the handbrake and I open the side hatch, straightening the bunting that catches and flutters on the breeze. By the time I’ve done that, he’s in the van, ready to serve customers, and we work comfortably, side by side, feeling the excitement of the sales, and each other’s presence. Our bodies are close enough that can smell his cologne, and I smile at the frequency with which we catch each other’s eye. We share satisfaction at the sight of the sidelined vending machines, full of unsold bread. The only cloud on the horizon is Claude, who sometimes pulls up at the vending machines, next to the bakery van. He’s not happy, not happy at all.
I have just days left to show the mayor I’m making a profit before I can start to believe that I may be here for good.
Chapter 40
I’m preparing to close theboulangerieat the end of the day and it’s really hot. The air feels thick and heavy, and I have the day’s takings in my bag, slung across my shoulder.
‘Now, go home and change. It’s the village dinner this evening and I’m taking you as my guest,’ Laurent says firmly. ‘You could do with a night to enjoy yourself. Everyone will be there and you’re part of this village now. They’re expecting you. We can celebrate your profits!’
‘But what about Aimée, from themairie? Won’t she be hoping you’ll take her?’
He shakes his head. ‘Despite what you might have heard, I am not someone who wants a fling, a relationship because it is convenient. Aimée knows that. Besides, she and Claude were in a relationship for a long time. She is a very bad judge of character.’
‘While he was married?’
He nods. ‘When I find someone I want to be with, I will give my whole heart. I firmly believe that if you find the right person, you feel seen every day.’
He looks at me and our fingertips touch. I shiver with the passion of his words and the ridiculous hope that maybe that person could be me. To feel like this, to feel really seen by one person, the right person … like no one else can see us at all.
‘Alors…’ says Madame B, coming out of the kitchen, pulling off her apron and pushing her fingers through her soft quiff. ‘Time to change. Then time to raise a glass to theboulangerie’s success. I have the bread ready for the meal. Oh, and I’ve beentrying out some other loaves. Next week we can start offering different types of bread as well as the baguette.’
Laurent and I turn to her. She is oblivious to the moment that has just passed between us. We give each other a shy smile and I wish we could talk more.
