Nineteen
B efore they’d left the garden the previous day, Arielle had told Daniel what lay behind the incident with the Grandiers at the flower market. It was important to her that he knew the full story. He’d listened, one arm around her, then said, ‘If I can help you—if you want me to—I will. Whatever you need.’ Hesitating for a moment, he’d added, ‘I don’t speak much with my mother—we don’t exactly see eye to eye—but she is an excellent lawyer specialising in family matters, and if you feel at any stage that you need to go that route, I could put you in touch with her.’
Her heart swelling, she’d reached up to him and kissed him. ‘I will ask you, definitely, if I need help. I won’t be too proud to ask, Daniel. You can count on that.’
‘Good,’ he said, smiling, ‘I am glad.’
Daniel had come home with them, he and Pauline had clicked at once, and they’d spent the rest of the afternoon talking, drinking tea, and later wine, and playing board games with Louis and Alice. He’d stayed for an early dinner of homemade pizza, soup and salad, and after he’d left, Pauline had turned to Arielle and said, ‘As your older and wiser sister, I give you my full permission to keep seeing him.’ She winked and added, ‘And if you need me to babysit while you find a less crowded venue for a night of passion, I’m happy to oblige.’
Arielle blushed and hugged her. ‘I’m so glad you like him.’
Now Daniel was perched on a stool beside her in the back room of the shop, as they shared an early lunch of savoury pan bagnats —a delicious concoction, which with its tuna, tomatoes, herbs, artichokes, olives and boiled egg, is basically a salade ni?oise sandwiched in bread which has been marinated in vinaigrette and crushed anchovies. Coming from Provence herself, Arielle loved pan bagnat , and she was touched that Daniel had chosen to buy that.
They had so much in common, she thought, despite their differences. For a start, neither of them had been brought up in Paris, but both of them loved the city that had now become their true home. And both had a vocation—something they felt that they had been born to do—in his case, a love of history as expressed through humanity’s long relations with plants; in hers, a love and understanding of the gifts that flowers bring to human lives. And though their differences of background were great—her happy childhood in the south-east, in the midst of sunny lavender fields; his lonely one in the north-west, in earshot of pounding Atlantic waves; his long solitary restlessness travelling the world before he found his true home; her finding love and the place where she wanted to be at a young age—these only served to heighten their commonalities.
It was something Arielle had not felt with Ludo. Her surface differences with him hadn’t been as great but they’d assumed quite an importance, and it wasn’t only about the relationship with his parents. Ludo had never really understood her passion for her work, for instance. She’d even wondered, recently, what would have happened if she’d discovered the catastrophic extent of his debts when he was still alive. Would their marriage have survived the shock of it? She hoped so but wasn’t sure.
‘Daniel,’ she said, ‘can I ask you a question?’
‘You can ask me as many as you like,’ he said, smiling. ‘Any time.’
‘That’s a dangerous thing to say,’ she said, smiling back at him. ‘You don’t know what I’m going to ask.’
‘It doesn’t matter. But I’ll tell you if it’s something I can’t answer.’ He took her hand and held it in his for a moment. ‘Is that all right?’
She nodded. ‘It is what I hope,’ she said. ‘For there to be real trust and honesty between us. Which includes the knowledge that we don’t have to answer every question.’ She paused, then went on, ‘You’re not working today, are you?’
He blinked. Clearly it wasn’t a question he’d been expecting. ‘That’s right.’
‘Would you like to help me?’
He stared at her. ‘Here?’
It had been an impulse to ask him, now she felt it was a ridiculous idea. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said, ‘I know that even when you’re not at the museum, you have things to do, it was just that I—’
‘I would love to help,’ he said, interrupting her. His eyes were shining. ‘If you think Monsieur Renan won’t mind.’
‘I’ll ask him right now,’ she said cheerfully, ‘to put your mind at rest.’ A moment later she turned back to him, smiling. ‘He says it’s about time you made yourself useful, instead of hanging around getting in the way.’
Daniel laughed, that happy sound that had so warmed her yesterday in the garden. ‘We’d better not delay then as the boss has spoken!’
She reached up to him and they kissed tenderly. It was such a simple, even banal thing they had agreed to and yet it felt huge. And romantic in a most unexpected way.
Daniel proved to be surprisingly quick at understanding what needed to be done—or maybe it was that he had spent quite a bit of time observing how things were done. And it was just as well that he was helping out, for a big group of British garden club members arrived moments after ten and most of them were keen to ask questions but spoke not a word of French. Arielle’s few phrases of English were not up to their queries and their guide had vanished. But Daniel was able to easily interpret and the tourists left happily clutching various purchases and promising to recommend Arielle’s stand to their friends. One of them also confided to Daniel that before this, they had thought of putting up a bad review on Tripadvisor about the flower market, due to the appalling rudeness of a stand owner who had treated them as if they were fools and tried to sell them stuff they didn’t want. And what’s more, the woman said, she was sure he’d been muttering rude things in French under his breath as they browsed.
Arielle was not in the least bit surprised to hear that the man in question was Vella. After the garden club people had gone, she caught him furtively glancing at their stand, his gaze flicking from Daniel to her. He’d have something to say about this unusual state of affairs, she knew. And sure enough, taking advantage of a time when the crowd had thinned and Daniel had absented himself to buy them some coffee, Vella strolled over to the stand and gave Arielle a sleazy grin.
‘Arielle my dear, you look radiant today,’ he announced. ‘Is it the influence of that handsome new assistant perhaps?’
Arielle ignored him, but he persisted. ‘Strange, I thought he was a customer before. Is Monsieur Renan aware that he has switched roles?’
‘Monsieur Renan is fully aware.’ Arielle kept her tone clipped and cold.
‘Very good,’ he said, with a hypocritical nod. ‘But let us hope all is in order, because if not it could cause Monsieur Renan trouble with the market authorities. I do so hope that doesn’t happen.’
Arielle stiffened. ‘Thank you for your concern,’ she said, keeping her voice light, though she longed to fling the contents of the compost bucket at his smug face. ‘I hope as well that the video a very nice English lady showed us, which she made of her group’s visit to your stand, doesn’t go any further. She didn’t understand French, but I certainly do. And I think our market authorities would be most interested to hear the kinds of things you say about your customers when you think they won’t understand.’
She was bluffing about the video’s existence, but Vella didn’t know that, and his reaction, as his face went from florid pink to mottled grey, proved that she had struck a nerve. He shot her a look of pure venom but said, with a forced smile, ‘I was joking, you know, letting off steam on a very busy day. I have nothing against our neighbours from across the Channel, or indeed anyone else from any other country, quite the contrary.’
‘I am sure of that,’ said Arielle, coolly, ‘just as I am sure that like me you would never cause any problems for your fellow stand owners. I so admire and honour that spirit of camaraderie in our market, don’t you?’
‘Oh yes,’ he stammered, ‘it is indeed a very admirable thing. Well, Arielle, I had better leave you to get on with it, no rest for us hard-working folk, is there?’ And with a bob of the head, he scuttled off.
When Daniel came back, she told him what Vella had said, and he looked worried. ‘Maybe I should leave,’ he said, ‘I don’t want to cause you or Monsieur Renan any problems.’
‘You’re not the one causing problems, he is,’ she said, tartly.
‘But you have enough to be concerned about without him as well. Would you like me to go and have a word?’
‘No,’ she said, more sharply than she’d intended, and saw him wince. ‘I’m sorry, Daniel. I didn’t mean to snap. But please don’t worry. He really is the least of my concerns right now.’
Vella had never tried to directly threaten her before, she thought, uneasily remembering that look of hatred in his eyes. But she had dealt with it, and she was pretty sure he wouldn’t try anything like that again. Anyway, beside the much greater worry about the Grandiers, Vella’s antics were mere pinpricks.