CHAPTER 31
I start to run down the street.
‘Oh, no, oh, no!’ I’m repeating, as I stumble over the shiny cobbles.
I can see smoke billowing from the front windows. The air is now thick with the smell of burning.
Outside, a few diners are staggering, leaning on each other, catching their breath and watching the smoke as it builds inside the restaurant. The wind is whipping it up. The fallen brazier has set alight the awning and flames lick up the walls to the shutters above.
Suddenly there’s a bang, and flames appear from the roof. People around me jump backwards, diners who are coughing and clinging to each other, along with kitchen staff and waiters.
‘Who’s in there? Is everyone out?’ I shout. I can see the sous-chef, but there’s someone I can’t see. It seems everyone is out, except one person. I can feel the anxiety in the air.
‘Zacharie! Where is Zacharie the chef?’ I ask.
Behind me the whole group from the supper club have arrived and are standing watching the scene unfold, holding each other’s hands. There is a hand on my shoulder. I don’t know whose it is.
‘Fabien – where’s Fabien?’ I look around all the faces, trying to spot him.
‘Not back from Serge’s?’ says Graham.
‘Are you sure he’s not back?’ Keith says. ‘He’s not in there, is he?’ His panic is growing.
‘You don’t think he’s gone in to help the chef, do you?’ I hear someone say.
‘What if he saw the fire and didn’t go to Serge’s? He could have come straight here! Fabien!’ I shout. ‘Zacharie!’ I try to push through the crowd. There’s another bang.
‘No,’ says Graham, grabbing my arm, holding me back. ‘You can’t!’ The group closes around me for comfort, support and my own protection. The seconds tick by.
‘Has anyone called the pompiers?’ I shout.
‘They’re on their way.’
I hear footsteps.
The mayor has appeared from one direction and Carine, running in her kitten heels, from the other.
‘Is everyone out?’ says the mayor.
‘I don’t know where Fabien is! And no one has seen Zacharie the chef, Henri’s son! Fabien! Zacharie!’ I shout.
Suddenly sirens are blaring and the growing crowd moves back. Adèle from the bakery arrives and touches my arm. ‘I heard …’ She’s looking up at the building as the flames increase. The neighbouring shopkeepers have gathered, and I can see familiar faces from the riverbank slipping off their hats and bowing their heads. More and more people are arriving at the scene as word spreads. Henri’s is burning down.
The wind whips and twists and fans the flames, reaching higher and higher.
‘Where’s Fabien?’ I try my phone but my eyes are blurred as I punch in his number.
Suddenly I can feel him. ‘I’m here!’ he says, out of breath from running. Behind him, moving slowly, is Serge. It seems the whole town is here to watch Henri’s bistro burn.
‘Is anyone in there?’
‘Zacharie, Henri’s son!’ I shout. The air is full of agitation and anxiety.
‘Zacharie is in there?’ Fabien moves forward.
‘No! Fabien, don’t!’
Stephanie arrives with JB. They are carrying the children. ‘What’s happening?’
‘It’s Zacharie. We think he’s still in there.’
‘Idiot!’ Fabien says, and again steps forward.
‘No! Fabien!’
‘But I have to help!’ he says.
I couldn’t love him more than I do right now for his selflessness, but I am not about to lose him to the fire. I tug at his arm. Frustrated, he looks back at me but doesn’t pull away.
‘Let the firefighters do their job,’ says Stephanie, firmly. He understands. He means too much to us. He looks back at the door, and as he does, it opens. Plumes of smoke pour out. Then Zacharie is there, coughing and spluttering, barely able to stand.
The firefighters and medics move in to support him and the items he’s carrying. Under his arm is a stack of the pictures that, I’m guessing, used to hang along the wall of Henri’s. He looks at me, tears streaming down his face. It looks like a small boy is still inside Zacharie, just wanting to remember his father for the good times, not the bad.
Suddenly there is another huge bang and we all step back as the front window blows out, with the last of the l’expérience signage, and the pompiers get to work dousing the flames. We move back. And with them is Rhi, tears running down her face. She walks to the front of the gathered group, with us behind her. The firefighters move us back, but we don’t leave. No one is leaving.
‘It’s the end,’ I hear myself say.
‘Or maybe a beginning,’ Fabien says, and I fall against his chest. He hugs me hard and kisses the top of my head. He’s here. And I know I have everything I want and need.
In the distance I can hear music from the brocante, carried on the wings of the mistral wind.
‘Je Ne Regrette Rien’ by Edith Piaf.
‘Au revoir, Henri. Merci pour tout,’ says Fabien, and everyone around us says, ‘Au revoir,’ and ‘Merci.’
Don’t wait for things to get better, to be less complicated. Learn to be happy right now.I hear his words as the sparks and flames rise higher. And then, as I lean against Fabien, my head swims, my knees give way and my whole world goes black.
‘Medics!’ I hear, then no more.