Chapter 13
13
‘Fixing broken hearts already, I see.’ Valérie lifts a brow as she watches the guy leave the bookshop, happier than when he arrived.
I jump at the sound of her voice behind me. ‘Not exactly broken, it’s more of an unrequited conundrum. He’s in love with a French woman but they have never spoken and he’s returning to Australia soon.’
She holds a hand to her heart. ‘ La douleur exquise .’
Translated, it’s ‘the exquisite pain’, but the meaning is much deeper than that. It’s the heartrending hurt that goes with a love not reciprocated. ‘ Oui. Poor man.’
‘Isn’t it strange that…?’ Her voice peters off as she waits for me to connect the dots.
‘Just say it, Valérie.’
She polishes her specs as she draws it out. ‘Isn’t unrequited love just as heartbreaking as any other type? And he managed to find his way here.’
I shake my head. ‘Because he was looking for a book and this is a book shop. ’
‘And yet you discussed a real-life romance plot in detail with the stranger.’
‘You eavesdropper.’
‘ Oui , of course. I was curious to see you in action. You handled it well. Not only does the bookshop cater for those with a broken heart, but also for lonely hearts, lost souls, the grief stricken, the star crossed. There’s a remedy for everyone.’
‘You really believe it, don’t you?’
‘You will too, Coco. Eventually. You’re just a little more stubborn than most.’
‘ Moi? Hardly.’
She grins. ‘You, ma chérie , are going to learn that not everything has a rational explanation. Sometimes there’s a certain magic in Parisian air that we have no control over. That coupled with a potion, a passage, the comfort of a good book, and strangers suffering the same or similar fate are the ingredients to mend a broken heart. There, I’ve told you the science behind it.’
A scoff escapes. ‘That’s the science behind it?’ I can’t hide the scepticism from my voice.
Valérie gives me a slow nod.
‘There’s a mystical magical breeze that blows in and fixes people?’
‘You’re simplifying it.’
The notion of such a premise is difficult for me to swallow, but Valérie means well. ‘It’s… hard for me to reconcile, is all.’
‘You need to open your heart and your mind.’
‘Is that a requirement of the job?’
A guffaw of laughter escapes. ‘Put away reason for a minute. What if the bookshop really did have the ability to help people who suffered alone for so long? Wouldn’t that be special?’
‘Of course. But you can’t make promises that you can’t keep, because one day it might come back to bite you.’ What if a customer fully expects to be ‘cured’ of their heartbreak and it fails?
‘Why can’t I keep my promises?’
‘Because you can’t cure a broken heart. It’s not scientifically possible. And by then the damage is done.’
‘In A Farewell to Arms , Hemingway talks about how life damages most of us in one way or another and that those broken parts of us become stronger for it.’
‘Wouldn’t it be weaker ? The broken parts forever altered; delicate, prone to breaking again?’ I picture the pottery of Kintsugi, those beautiful golden seams, that patch up breaks.
‘ Non , Coco! Haven’t you ever had a scar on your body? They’re thick, tough and strong, as if a reminder to us that all is not lost; we’re resilient, as goes with the wounds on a heart.’
Are the golden seams tougher than the pottery itself? Or am I missing the point? It’s not about the fix itself, it’s about healing. Being made whole again, albeit slightly different than before. ‘Maybe.’
‘Maybe? I’ll get you to believe eventually. Out of interest, what book did you suggest for the Australian man?’
‘ Un Baiser D’adieu .’ A Kiss Goodbye . ‘We have so many copies. I read one of the poems and I felt so moved by it.’
‘The perfect choice.’
‘Do you love poetry? Is that why there are so many copies of it around the bookshop?’
She takes a moment to consider it. ‘ Oui. Good poetry should be heartbreaking, and all at once uplifting, and that’s what I feel when I read those poems.’
‘Ah, you chose it because it deals with heartbreak. And might help customers? ’
‘It’s what the people need, non ?’ Valérie is called to back to the bar.
A young man approaches me with a skittish look on his face. ‘Where are the puppies?’ he says in broken English. He has a hint of an accent. German, maybe.
‘Books about dogs?’
His eyebrows knit as he shakes his head. ‘Not books. Puppies.’
This is an easy query to solve. ‘Sorry, this is a bookshop.’
He checks his watch as if he’s got somewhere to be. ‘The… puppies . Where are they?’
‘We sell books , not puppies. There are no puppies here.’
‘Benjamin told me pick up the puppies. Here.’
I gasp. ‘Is this some kind of drug deal?’ The word ‘drug’ echoes around the bookshop, bringing, of all people, Henri by my side. Great, the old hero-to-the-rescue routine I’ll have to suffer through once more.
‘What’s going on?’ he demands as if he’s the gendarmerie. The young guy is acting fishy, so it’s best I share my suspicions in case there is a haul of illicit drugs secreted among these unsuspecting innocent novels, even if the person I share it with is Henri. ‘Are you OK?’
‘I’m fairly certain this young man, who, I might add, has his whole life ahead of him and should be making better choices, might be involved in some sort of nefarious drug deal, and they’ve organised the exchange to take place here! I’ve edited many a crime novel and I know a code word when I hear one. Puppies . I mean, it’s blatantly obvious.’
Henri’s expression darkens as he waits for an explanation from the young man, who scratches the back of his neck as if he’s not quite sure what he’s walked into. Am I reading this all wrong? It’s just the way he’s acting so sketchy and whispering about puppies.
‘The puppies?’ he says and lifts his palms up. ‘I’m here to pick them up.’
‘Oh,’ Henri says with an understanding nod. ‘Outside to the left, about five doors up. The dog groomer.’
‘Oh. Of course.’ I want to curl up and die. ‘I misunderstood.’
Henri leads the guy to the front door and shows him the way, leaving me, thankfully, alone with my mortification. It could have been a drug exchange; I’m only protecting our customers by being observant and keeping my wits about me.
He’s not going to let it go though, being Henri. Far too soon he returns, his lips pressed tight together while he holds up a hand implying I should wait. I’m sensing he’s about to laugh uproariously or self-combust – maybe both?
‘Before you start, you didn’t see how dodgy he was acting, and I’ve learned from recent experiences to be on guard a little more than strictly necessary.’
My explanation doesn’t work. Laughter explodes from Henri, so loud it’s like a sonic boom. I soon throw my hands over my ears and say, ‘Are you quite finished?’ Alas, the fool can’t hear me over the sounds erupting from his own body. After a full minute, having drawn a crowd of customers, he finally manages to regain some composure.
I apologise profusely. ‘Sorry, he’s got a medical condition. He can’t control it.’ That just makes him laugh more.
‘Oh, Coco. I don’t quite know how to take you.’
Story of my life.
‘I’m really not sure what I was thinking. It all happened so fast and I was in the moment with no time to process it. I mean, you hear about these things all the time, don’t you?’
‘True. And absolutely nothing surprises me any more in this bookshop, so you were right to be suspicious. Can I buy you a coffee? It looks like you could use the jolt of caffeine.’
‘Thanks, but I’ve got one going cold behind the bar already.’ While Valérie is fairly lax as a boss, I don’t want to take advantage, even if a coffee break with Henri would be just the thing after this morning.
‘OK, another time.’
I nod and he goes to his chair at the back. Why the abrupt change in Henri? He went from laughing jester to caring about me.
There’s no time to contemplate it as the bookshop fills up once more with the before-lunch crowd. Valérie said it ebbs and flows, but I decide to see if there’s a pattern to it, certain times that are clearly busier, that way I can be prepared for the busy spells. I feel a spreadsheet might be in order, just for fun. Valérie would clutch her heart if I got scientific about it.