2 #3
Lo?c: "Following your instructions, Louane, I’m no longer scouting within my immediate circle so as not to arouse suspicion. You’ll notice that, for the moment, the gendarmerie is getting nowhere—whether it’s the Sarah case or the Alma case. For Sarah,
they’re combing through the sex offender registry since she vanished while out for a run; as for Alma, they think she drowned trying to swim to shore after her jet ski ran out of fuel. You have to admit,
it was a brilliant idea of mine to leave the engine running with the handlebars turned toward the open sea until the tank ran dry."
Louane: "It’s precisely for qualities like that that I rely on you, Lo?c; I have no doubt you’re being very careful. Let me remind you of my criteria: foreign tourists—young, pretty, and unpleasant. I want to stress that last point:
I don’t want nice people visiting us who actually love and respect Brittany."
Lo?c: "I know, and both Sarah and Alma fit that criterion—which I know is essential to you and which I share. I actually have two new candidates in mind, but I wanted to run it by you before taking the next step. They’re two German women—cousins—working the season at a crêperie in Vannes.
The managers hired them to replace one of my cousins and a friend of hers, because the previous pair didn’t speak English, and the clientele is becoming less and less French."
Louane: "It mustn't be a matter of family revenge, Lo?c."
Lo?c: "Not at all. I went to eat at that crêperie with some friends, and these two German women are all smiles with English or German speakers, but they look down on you if you speak French—even though they actually speak it quite well."
Louane: "Sold on the two German women—and I don’t mind at all that they speak French, too." At dinner that evening, Louane tells Gwendal about the arrival of two Holsteins that will round out her herd.
Louane: "We’ll need to expand the barn; with these new arrivals, I’ll only have one stall left. It’s also time to set up the wash area I designed for properly cleaning my animals. Right now, I do it by hand on the changing table, but that’s not ideal,
and our future calf buyers will demand impeccable hygiene."
Gwendal: "No problem, my dear. I’ve already drawn up the plans for the wash area. Besides digging out the cellar exit leading to the small woods, I’ve also dug a trench to bring water in from the field. The cellar exit will open into the woods through a small shed that will serve as an airlock.
I’m going to lay down about ten meters of artificial turf—a slight departure from our organic principles—to make it comfortable for your cows to walk to the pasture, but mainly to protect the knee areas of their suits on their hind legs, even though those parts are heavily reinforced.
Their pasture is already prepped; they’ll have one hectare to start with, bordered on three sides by hedges and separated from the other herd by wire fencing. I’m going to back that up with a three-strand electric fence, 1.20 meters high,
set three meters inside the pasture boundary so your cows don’t rub against the hedges and damage their suits."
Louane: "Great work, darling. And what about my stalls?"
Gwendal: "Since they’re identical, I’ve already got five ready to go, with all the boards cut and sanded and the doors built. It’ll take me one day to assemble them, and then you’ll have five new stalls available."
Louane: "I’ll leave you to handle the construction, but I need the wash area up and running by the time my two Holsteins arrive, if possible." "I still have one stall's worth of space before you fill it with the next five."
Gwendal: "Okay, got it."
The young couple heads off to bed; there will be no shortage of work ahead—caring for the two herds and construction work for Gwendal, and the milk collection rounds for Louane.
Louane now has 25 clients entrusting her with their milk to transport to Rennes.
She hadn’t expected such success. Admittedly, the previous system—donating for free to milk banks—was less motivating.
Since the law changed to allow the sale of this milk, young women are more motivated to keep pumping their excess supply.
Louane foresaw this and arrived at just the right moment.
She also realizes she needs to quickly capture this emerging market to nip any potential competition in the bud.
With a keen business sense, she has implemented a referral program for her clients; they have a financial incentive to recruit other breastfeeding mothers from their social circles to grow Louane’s client base, and it is starting to work.
Above all, Louane knows she must increase her own production volume to become indispensable to the university hospital.
In fact, this Monday morning, the head of the maternity ward asks her to stay after her delivery for a coffee and a chat.
Anne Le Mo?l is an ambitious hospital administrator intent on expanding her maternity unit.
A steady supply of breast milk is a major asset for her department, and her counterparts at other university hospital maternity wards are already envious.
Anne: "Louane, your small business has a bright future, believe me. I’m counting on your drive to ramp up collection volumes; I’ll buy every drop you can gather—other university hospitals are facing shortages. Our beautiful Brittany region is famous for milk production;
let’s make sure breast milk is no exception!"
Louane assures Anne she has no intention of slowing down now, and she leaves the hospital confident that there is a guaranteed market for every liter of milk she collects.
Anne has even promised her exclusive supplier status for the hospital, in exchange for a commitment to deliver her entire collection there.
The two women shook hands—a gesture that, here in Brittany, constitutes a binding contract.
The following Wednesday, Nolwenn arrived at the farm at 6:30 a.m. She parked her car and took the wheel of the refrigerated van containing milk from Sarah and Alma’s cows; she would then complete the collection rounds, drive to Rennes for the delivery,
and head to work at her clinic—conveniently located right next to the university hospital.
It meant an early start, but as a midwife, she was accustomed to irregular hours and night shifts.
A bonus for her was that she no longer had to use her own car for the commute, and Louane covered the fuel costs.
She was surprised to find milk waiting at the farm when Louane loaded several churns onto a rack in the back of the van.
Louane: "I have a few clients who bring their milk directly to me."
Without further ado, Nolwenn set off.
Louane had done the math: for the time being, milk sales would barely cover the wages she was paying Nolwenn.
It was a risk, but her job—even part-time—at the fertility clinic was a golden opportunity for the core of her farming project: selling young calves.
She faced another issue regarding diapers.
The thick, eco-friendly anatomical diapers suited her needs well, but she was rapidly running through the four cases she had bought from the manufacturer.
It was also difficult to order them in bulk without attracting attention—unless you were a nursing home.
Finally, there was the cost, which would soon weigh heavily on the budget given the per-head consumption and the expanding herd.
So, Louane decided to call a former colleague she had met early in her career at the maternity ward.
They had only crossed paths for a few months, but she had really hit it off with Soazig.
Sensing the challenges of motherhood that lay ahead, she had agreed to take charge of a well-regarded local retirement home.
As she had remarked at her farewell party, there was no risk of running out of clients in that line of work.
Louane called Soazig, who was delighted to hear from her.
She immediately invited her over for coffee after lunch—the quietest time of day for her, as the residents were taking their naps.
Louane hadn’t chosen Soazig’s retirement home at random; she knew from the eco-friendly diaper manufacturer that the facility used the same type of diapers.
Soazig: "It’s so good to see you again, Louane. How are you?"
Louane: "Things are going pretty well, despite the maternity ward closing. You were smart to switch jobs beforehand."
Soazig: "I’d been there long enough to see the slow but inevitable drop in the number of pregnancies. When the Regional Health Agency (ARS) decreed the closure of all maternity wards handling fewer than 300 births a year, I knew full well we’d soon be facing that reality. And what about you?
What are you up to?"
Louane: "I joined Gwendal on the farm, but I’m not a farmer at heart; so, I set up a small business collecting breast milk for the Rennes University Hospital."
Soazig: "I’m not surprised you bounced back so quickly—knowing your character—and I’m sure you’ll succeed."
As she enjoys the excellent coffee Soazig has offered her, Louane gets to the heart of the reason for her visit.
Louane: "Do you know Malo, the forester who manages the maritime pine forest in Saint-Armel?"
Soazig: "I think I met him at some friends' place, yes."
Louane: "He manufactures and supplies cellulose pulp to the eco-friendly diaper factory we used at the maternity ward. The factory owner told me your facility is also a customer of his."
Soazig: "Yes, that’s right. I found his products to be of very high quality back at the maternity ward, and when I arrived here, I wanted to introduce a bit of eco-consciousness by switching to eco-friendly diapers.
It was a struggle to get the group that owns this nursing home—and several others—to agree to it, because, naturally, they cost more."
Louane: "I’d love to offer them to some of my best clients who suffer from postpartum urinary incontinence, but the price is a bit steep for my fledgling business."
Soazig: "I can help you there, because the ARS—following various scandals involving certain nursing homes—imposes minimum quotas on us for food and supplies like diapers, on top of staffing ratios based on the number of residents. So, I have to buy more diapers than before,