‘Come on, let’s celebrate,’ he says, opening theboulangeriedoor and ushering us out with Bibi.
I’m on cloud nine. Happier than I’ve felt in a very long time. Laurent’s right; it’s time to celebrate. It’s been a really good week in the bread van. The money has been banked and I’m ready to meet the mayor.
‘Okay. I’ll go back and change. Meet you back here,’ I tell him. ‘Give me twenty minutes.’ It’s all I can do not to lean in and kiss him. But I don’t, despite the slow burn building inside me.
The dough is ready for the morning and I’ve even made more mini Victoria Sandwich cakes to take on the van tomorrow. I have plans for the front window of theboulangerienow that the netting is down, and dressing the table with some flowers. Everything is ready.Mise en place. Madame B has worked so hard to keep up with my plans. And I am a little worried that she must be exhausted.
As I leave the bakery, I take in the tables under the plane trees that have been laid with plates, glasses, water jugs and cutlery. The corners of their cloths flick up and flap in the warm wind. Smartly dressed villagers are already arriving in the square. I spot Gilles with his wife. He’s carrying a covered dish and a bottle of wine, and she smiles as they greet Hubert and Gabrielle, then Eric and Béatrice. Madame B’s bike is parked in front of theboulangerie, and someone has put a red geranium in its basket. I think it looks very in keeping and should stay there. I turn towards the bakery van and see a figure standing beside it in the shadows. It takes me a moment to recognise who it is. But then I see it’s Claude’s wife, Vivianne. She looks anxious.
‘Bonjour, Madame.Is everything okay with you?’
She is holding her hands together, wringing them. ‘It’s Claude,’ she says, worry etched on her face. ‘He’s gone to the mill. He …’ she swallows hard ‘… he means to do damage.’
‘To the mill?’
She nods. Tears are pricking her eyes.
‘I went back to the house to pick up my belongings. He is consumed with fury. He never believed I would leave and thinks I am ruining his reputation at the bakery. People have stopped coming. The bread is not like it was when I was there helping him – customers have told me. And he blames you, too – says you are taking what is his, the customers. We had a row. I told him he had done this to himself. He hates to be wrong or challenged in any way. He knows that everyone will be at the village dinner this evening.’
I grapple for the keys to the van and climb into Dolly as I hear thunder rumbling in the distance. Raindrops begin to fall.
‘Laurent, I’m going to the mill!’ I call over the ominous sound of the sky and people hurrying to shelter beneath the trees.
‘It’s raining!’ someone calls.
‘C’est dommage!’ says someone else.
‘Where shall we go?’ I hear.
‘Bring the plates and food,’ says one of the women.
‘They’re going to the old mill!’ I hear someone call.
‘To the mill, out of the rain, everyone!’ another shouts.
The van roars into life and I push it into gear. Dolly jolts, then gathers, and I set off.
The first thing I see when I arrive is Claude’s white van. I jump out and run up the grassy drive, up the slope, slipping in my eagerness to get there, falling forwards on my hands. I stand and hurry up the rest of the slope and onto the lawn, where I see Claude standing by the water wheel. He’s holding the handle tothe sluice gate and it’s clear he intends to close it. He’s going to flood the mill.
‘Stop!Arrêt!’ I shout.
‘Ah, so you’ve come to save the mill. Or maybe it is Laurent you want to protect, and save his family’s reputation. The family who are known for their women leaving them for something far better on offer.’
‘That’s not true. He is a good man. Better than you will ever be.’
‘You still owe me. You have stolen my customers and the debt is going up.’ He holds the sluice gate poised to drop it into position as the rain continues to fall in fat, heavy drops, rolling down my face and back. There’s a flash of lightning and a crack of thunder.
‘I’m not paying you, Claude. You’re not getting a single euro out of me.’
‘From what I understand, you’re making quite a profit from the bakery van.’
‘I need that money. I’m not paying you!’ I say, as another clap of thunder crashes out, making me jump.
‘There is only room for one baker around here. And it won’t be you.’
He goes to close the sluice gate. My heart lurches.
‘Stop! Okay,’ I raise my hands. ‘I’ll leave. If that’s what it takes. Close theboulangerie. I’ll do whatever it takes. Just leave the mill alone.’
