Chapter 23
23
The park in the local town was a large expanse of grass, with a corner given over to children’s playground equipment: a small climbing frame made of metal, a wobbly bridge which stretched over a dip, a slide that descended from the end of the climbing frame and a couple of carved wooden animals set on springs.
While the shop was quiet, Adeline had asked to go and sit at the edge of the space, knowing that Lili would be there playing with some of the children from the holiday playscheme run by the local school. She’d taken a book with her, but had left it closed on her lap as she watched her child, with six others, swarm over the equipment, laughing and running and shouting with complete abandon. It was hard not to smile.
When Adeline had seen Lili, she’d assumed her daughter would run over. But instead, she’d given her a subtle wave and grin before disappearing with the children. Once in a while, she’d look up to make sure Adeline was watching, and they’d exchanged looks and thumbs ups at the end of a particularly brave climb, and after a turn on the swings where she’d gone higher than ever before .
It was pleasant, sitting in the warm air, smelling pollen on the breeze and watching the children play. She took a deep breath of the fresh air and released it, trying to relax her shoulders as she’d been taught during a yoga and meditation class she’d attended back in London. Her practice had lapsed since her move and her muscles felt tight, her shoulders hunched. True, she needed the class less now, away from the relentless stress she’d felt back then – a combination of teaching, caring and single parenting – but she made a mental note to try to find something local to attend before she seized up completely.
Leaning back to stretch out her shoulders, Adeline looked across the grass in the other direction, where a stone building marked the edge of the common ground. There was a pathway stretching from one side of the park to the other, and locals would often use it as a cut-through on their daily walks, sometimes with dogs on a lead or sniffing interestedly in their wake. Today there was a man pushing his bike, the basket straining with groceries, and another with a baguette under his arm – it was a common sight in St Vianne, but one that still felt like something out of a cartoon – then her eyes focused on another man, something familiar in his movements. His face was hidden behind a small paperback he was somehow managing to read as he walked along. She wondered whether it was wise to read and walk, especially so close to the small river that flowed on the far side of the path.
As the man grew closer his features came into focus and she snatched her gaze away, embarrassed; she hadn’t expected to see Michel and half hoped he hadn’t noticed her. But when she allowed her eyes to wander back to him, she realised that he was crossing the grass towards her, book at his side and a wide smile on his face.
‘Hello!’ he called out .
‘ Bonjour . What are you doing here?’ She hadn’t quite meant her words to sound so sharp, so followed them with a grin. ‘I mean, you’re not usually…’
He laughed. ‘I’m making a delivery for Monique. She called and asked me to take an invoice to a customer who lives close to my flat. It is no worry. It was actually her who suggested I walk through the park – it’s a nice day. She is always sure that I am working too hard.’ He made a mock sad face, then broke into a broad grin.
She glanced at his book. It was a French one she hadn’t heard of, Matin Brun . ‘Any good?’
He smiled. ‘ Mais oui . It is one I often recommend to my students. You must try it.’
‘I don’t know how you do it.’
‘What? Teaching? Working in the holidays?’
‘No, walk along and read at the same time. Isn’t it a bit dangerous?’
He laughed. ‘Maybe. But not illegal, like drinking and driving. And better than looking at your phone all the time like my students.’
‘True,’ she said. She thought of herself in London, always buried in her phone, walking, queueing, sitting on the bus. Somehow being without it for a few weeks had broken the habit and she was trying as much as she could not to slip back into her old ways.
Something occurred to her. ‘Sorry, but it was Monique who suggested you walk through the park?’
‘And she knew that you would be here,’ he said, picking up her train of thought. ‘Ah, merde . My aunt, she is always meddling!’
‘So now you think it might be intentional?’
He nodded. ‘Ah, Monique. She cannot understand that I am alone because that is what is right for me at the moment. She thinks I am shy. Or hopeless in love.’
Adeline shook her head. She wasn’t sure whether to be amused or angry.
‘I hope you won’t be too cross with her? I think she means well,’ Michel said.
‘I’m sure. But even so…’
‘Yes. Even so. Well, don’t worry. I will be more suspicious next time she makes a suggestion.’
They grinned at each other in their mutual frustration. ‘I was going to ask if you wanted to walk back to the store with me – I have had some books delivered I need to collect. But perhaps you want to stay here, especially as it might please Monique too much to think her plan is working?’
‘Actually, I probably ought to get back,’ she said. ‘I’ll walk with you. Monique can think what she likes.’
She stood, stretched and gave Lili a little wave as she lifted her bag onto her shoulder and turned to join him on the path.
‘I hope I didn’t upset you – when I told you about Monique, about her baby, I mean?’ he said, as they walked, his eyes fixed on the road ahead.
She shook her head. ‘Oh, no. It was better to know. I’ve spoken to Monique and…’ she trailed off, wondering how to put the next part into words. ‘Well, everything’s OK,’ she said.
‘ Bon . Good.’
The silence returned, starting off comfortably but then began to stretch into awkwardness. Next to her Michel shuffled slightly and cleared his throat. ‘Do you ever think about finding your own mother?’ he asked suddenly, posing the question into the silence. He reddened. ‘Sorry, perhaps that is too personal.’
She looked at him briefly. ‘It’s OK,’ she said. ‘Yes, I did. I do. I’ve only known for a few weeks. ’
‘ Ah oui ?’ he seemed surprised by this. ‘That must have been a great shock.’
She nodded. ‘It was. My mother, the mum who adopted me, died without ever telling me.’
Michel let out a breath at the enormity of what Adeline was going through. ‘Wow. I understand it must be incredibly hard.’
‘Just a bit.’
‘You’re actually the first person I’ve spoken to about this,’ she admitted, slightly embarrassed. ‘Other than Monique and my brother of course.’
‘ C’est vrai ?’ He seemed surprised. ‘Then I am honoured.’
She laughed, briefly. ‘Thanks,’ she said, wanting to add that he might not be if she let it all spill out, everything she’d been carrying inside her since her arrival. She’d pushed it down and focused on work and France and, for a while, her suspicions about Monique. But the thoughts and questions had become so big that sometimes they overwhelmed her.
In previous years, she’d have discussed things with her best friend, Chris. They’d worked together at the school and would sit together at lunchtime putting the world to rights over lacklustre sandwiches. But then Adeline had been swallowed up into the world of caring, which took up every free hour she had. Something had been lost between them.
She could talk to Kevin of course. And she knew he’d listen. But he was Mum’s son. He had feelings she didn’t want to hurt; might not understand her inner conflict.
Michel was safe – partly because she felt instinctively that he’d understand, but also because it didn’t really matter if he didn’t. ‘I’ve actually done a DNA test recently,’ she admitted. ‘I haven’t mentioned it because, well, I suppose I’m trying not to think about it too much.’
‘But that is exciting!’ he exclaimed .
‘Yes. I haven’t had the results back. And it might lead to nothing. I mean, there’s no way of knowing if my birth mum will have done a test too, or any of her relations. But it might be a start to things,’ she said, shrugging to convey a nonchalance she didn’t feel.
‘You must be nervous to wait for the results.’
‘Terrified.’
‘ Oui, j’imagine .’ He lightly patted her back in a motion of comfort.
‘My brother, Kevin, gave me the idea. I’d kind of assumed that if my mother had put me up for adoption it would mean she wouldn’t want me to trace her. So when I did the test, I didn’t have much hope of making contact, not really. But since sending it off I’ve spoken to Monique, I’ve seen her pain. Knowing how she regrets giving up her baby.’ She lifted a shoulder. ‘It changed me. I realised that maybe my mother was similar – perhaps she hadn’t wanted to give me up either. Maybe she would want me to find her.’
He nodded. ‘Yes. I hope so for you.’
‘Thank you.’
They reached the main high street now and the terraced houses began to merge into stone-fronted shops. Some – a boucherie , a small galerie – were boarded up, their signs faded. But others had lights on and life inside. At the patisserie, she could see André organising the window display and he gave them a wide smile.
Adeline smiled back, raising her hand in a small wave.
‘Did I tell you that André almost hit my brother?’ she asked.
‘ Non ! Why was this?’
‘Apparently he thought he was my boyfriend, and that he was mistreating me!’ she said, looking askance at Michel.
Michel laughed, shook his head. ‘This is so typical of him. He grew up just with his mother and he is very protective of women.’
‘You’ve known him a long time then?’
‘ Oui , since school.’
‘I was so surprised! He raced out of the cafe after us and practically put Kevin in a chokehold. Is he always like that?’
‘Like what?’
‘So… dramatic?’
Michel laughed again. ‘No, not quite so dramatic. But I think I know why.’
She felt suddenly nervous. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, this didn’t come from me. But I know for a fact that he has noticed you.’
‘He’s… what?’ She felt her cheeks get hot. André – St Vianne’s answer to Ryan Reynolds – had noticed her? Not that she was interested.
Michel nodded. ‘Yes, of course. He has seen that you are new here, and that you are alone.’
‘Oh.’ She couldn’t see herself, but she was pretty sure the tips of her ears had gone pink.
‘And I think you probably remind him of his mother.’
‘Oh. Right. His mother.’
Michel looked as if he were about to say something else, but then gave his head a tiny shake and stood up a little straighter. ‘Ah, and here we are!’ he said almost too enthusiastically as the shop came into view.
As she glanced at the shop window, she noticed movement in the flat above and saw a figure quickly retreat from the glass. Monique. Probably seeing whether her meddling had worked. Adeline didn’t know whether to be annoyed or amused.