I take in what I’ve just said in desperation.I’ll leave.But I don’t want Laurent to lose the mill again.
Claude sneers at me. ‘You think I can leave the mill like this, so your boyfriend can carry on here, and your baker can keep on baking? You’ve taken everything that matters to me, Julie.’
‘It’sJuliet,’ I say, knowing he misnames me on purpose.
‘Well,Juliet, as I said, there is only room for one baker around here. And it will continue to be me.’
He lifts his hand to turn the sluice-gate wheel as an arm reaches out across my shoulder. Again, I don’t need to turn to know it’s Laurent. My heart is thundering and rain is starting to hit and run down my face.
‘I wouldn’t touch me, if I were you. This mill needs to stay decommissioned,’ shouts Claude.
‘Not on my watch!’ Laurent growls. His hair is wet, his face angry and set. ‘Go and crawl back under whatever rock you came out from, Claude. You and your family won’t just help yourselves to whatever you want around here any more.’
‘Really?’ He raises an eyebrow. ‘From where I’m standing, everything is being offered on a plate! Just like your grandmother, the women in your life always did prefer the Guiomar men.’
Behind me I can hear a crowd of people arriving at the mill, bottles chinking, cutlery and crockery being carried too.
‘Shall we go inside?’ someone asks.
‘Laurent? Shall we go in?’ calls Gilles, as the locals gather around the front door. But Laurent is too focused on Claude to hear him.
‘Just leave, Claude,’ Laurent growls.
‘Not until you know the truth about your new lady friend.’
I turn to Laurent in panic. Claude is determined to hurt him. I have to say something before Claude does and Laurent discovers I’ve been keeping a secret. And I know this is really the end now. I’ll be leaving. Laurent won’t want to be around me after this.
‘Claude and me, we kissed!’ I suddenly blurt out. ‘Hekissedme– it was a moment of stupidity.’
There is a clap of thunder, a flash of lightning and a group intake of breath. No one says anything.
‘I didn’t know he …’ but I stop. It’s useless trying to explainor excuse my behaviour. It was a moment of stupidity, but it’s also the truth. And now I know that I have broken Laurent’s trust. I kissed the man he hates for ruining the thing he loved most: his family. And now I’ve done the same. I’ve let myself fall in love with Laurent, and from what I see, I think the feeling is reciprocated … but I realise I’ve crushed whatever we had by letting history repeat itself. And I know there will be no way to put it back to how it was.
Laurent stares at Claude as if he’d like to kill him. Then, in a low, hard, cold voice, he says, ‘You’re not worth it.’ He drops his hand, turns and walks away in the pouring rain, the wheel turning and turning.
I glare at Claude and narrow my eyes. ‘Happy now? Got what you wanted?’
‘I will do when I have your takings from today. You took my customers, remember? I’m owed.’
I pull the bag of coins out of my bag and throw it at his feet.
‘Here, have the lot!‘
He bends and picks up the money bag. ‘Merci.’ He lets go of the sluice-gate handle and the water continues to flow, its path uninterrupted. The mill is safe, for now.
Claude steps forward and brushes past me. ‘Enjoy your dinner.Bon appétit. Looks like it could be your leaving party!’ As he leaves, I see Madame B looking at me, as is everyone else, clearly happy to see the back of Claude. She ushers them quickly into the mill and out of the rain.
I follow, trying to hide my embarrassment and my pain by slipping on a smile and making sure everyone is okay. ‘Come in, come in. Let’s find you all somewhere to sit,’ I say as they enter. I see them all admiring the clean, whitewashed walls and polished workings of the millstones – Laurent’s passion, his pride and joy.
The villagers happily throng out of the rain, seemingly havingforgotten the scene outside, but I know I’ve ruined everything with Laurent and now, even if there was a way to get my visa, I can’t bear to stay. Even if I was to explain to him that Claude kissed me and I was flattered by the attention, before I realised what kind of man he was, I’m not sure things would ever go back to how they were. I don’t think I could bear to see him every day, thinking about what might have been.
I hear more cars pulling up outside, and it’s the fisherwomen, arriving with the tables and chairs from the square. ‘I can bring the rest in the van,’ I say, and grab the keys. I drive up to the square, looking for Laurent through the rain, but he’s nowhere to be seen.
When I get back, everyone helps unload the tables and chairs, and lays out the food in the dishes they’ve all brought. We’re in the big room of the mill and, all of a sudden, I can see exactly how this place would have looked if it had become thesalon de thé. There is excited chatter as the food is served, and the bread that Madame B has brought from the boulangerie is put out along the tables.
Plates are laid out, with platters of cheese, cold meats and big green salads. There are desserts too: the chocolate and beetroot brownies I’ve made, and mini Victoria Sandwich cakes, as well as atarte aux pommeswith bowls of crème fraîche on a table in front of the window overlooking the lake.
Bertrand, the mayor, has arrived, beaming and soaking up the atmosphere in the big room, as are the fisherwomen with their partners, parents and children. Madame B is smiling, and I think it may be because she’s in her happy place, with her memories of the man she loved, even if he couldn’t love her back.
