CHAPTER 33
We set out the tables and chairs with care for our last supper. There is still the smell of smoke in the air from the fire last night, a reminder of yesterday, but also a reminder to live for today. The mistral did a good job of clearing away the dust as she blew her way out of town, waving goodbye to the chaos she’d caused once more. The skies are clear and blue today, and a fresh start lies ahead, like a clean page in a diary.
Everyone has a job to do, except me. I’m under orders to sit in the shade of the chestnut tree with a glass of homemade lemonade. A jug of it has been put at my side.
‘Over a bit to the left with the bunting,’ I call to Jen and Maria. They look at me. ‘What? I can’t help it! And I am taking things easy!’
Earlier today, after a night in my own bed, I walked with Fabien to the bistro … or what had been the bistro. Now it’s a burned-out shell, the roof fallen into what was Henri’s sitting room above the restaurant. L’expérience lies in ruins.
‘It was never about the building,’ I said to Fabien, who was pushing his hair off his face. I gaze at his square jawline. ‘I shouldn’t have let it be about the building.’
I looked at the ruin.
‘No. Henri’s not only here, he’s everywhere in this town,’ Fabien said.
‘And that’s what we must celebrate, every day. He brought people together. Made them feel safe and supported. Made us the community we are. Our past, present and future.’
‘He did.’ He squeezed my hand.
‘He’ll always be part of us all.’
At the brocante, we light the candles, put on the record player and set the table for whoever wants to join us in our final supper. Ed, Maria and Jen are serving all of Henri’s specialities that I’ve talked them through, with their own twists and side dishes. Keith has been baking with Stephanie, making lavender sourdough and little biscuits to go with lavender ice cream. Graham is on wine duty, making champagne cocktails with Henri’s brandy. Fabien is rigging up lighting, so the walls of the brocante are uplit, creating wonderful areas of light and shade. And there are speakers so the music plays loudly, with JB’s help.
‘They can shut us down after tonight, if they like.’ I laugh.
Oh, and Keith has helpers in Tomas and little Louis, who adore him. He is making sure they help with the baking and laying the table. They are both determined to hand around the baskets of bread.
Now, we just have to hope people come for our final supper club. In some ways it feels like the wake after the funeral, as if yesterday we said goodbye to Henri and today we celebrate everything that was good about him.
And as the church bells ring out for seven o’clock, they arrive – the mayor, Carine, Serge, the shopkeepers, Adèle from the bakery, Samuel and the regulars at the riverside, who helped bring in the harvest. Fabien visited them and insisted they come.
We even run out of chairs and have to find more in the warehouse. There are bundles of lavender hanging from the walls and stems in vases on the table, filling the air with their soothing scent, helping to clear it of the fire.
As we start to serve, I notice everyone is helping, taking long platters of sharing starters to the tables. There is the oven-baked Camembert, soft and melting, drizzled in honey and sprinkled with thyme, little terracotta pots of chorizo and prawns in garlic and olive oil, bite-sized onion bhajis, more of the duck rilletteand cornichons with baskets of bread that Louis and Tomas hand around. There are bowls of spicy salsa made from ripe tomatoes and lemony guacamole from avocados bought that morning on the advice of Renard, at peak perfection.
When we have shared, passed, dipped, scooped and popped the last piece of bread into our mouths, everyone helps clear the tables.
Then we put out platters of spicy merguez sausages, lamb cutlets in garlic and rosemary, and barbecued vegetable kebabs, all cooked by Ed. Jen and Maria serve salads, crunchy carrot and celeriac, dressed in homemade mayonnaise, green salad, dressed in olive oil, red wine vinegar, garlic, mustard and a little sugar, as Henri showed me. There are big bowls of steaming new potatoes, in melting butter and showered with chives. Maria has made ratatouille, of aubergine, courgettes and tomatoes, cooked in peppery olive oil and garlic with herbes de Provence. There is something for everyone, cooked by everyone. Graham has even helped with custard tarts for dessert.
I sit quietly, drinking in the atmosphere. There is a wonderful sound that carries over the courtyard, the music, the conversations, the laughter, the memories and stories of Henri, who is still very much at the heart of our table. We are here. We are at home. It’s not about where you are, it’s about who you are. It’s about where we’ve come from and where we’re going.
Fabien looks at me and smiles. I smile back. Life may have hard times for us ahead, with the bistro gone, but Henri was right: don’t wait for life to stop being hard to be happy. I am happy. Whatever the future brings, I know that this is where I belong, and that Fabien and I belong together.
We eat and drink, then toast a terrific harvest.
‘To friendship old and new.’ Ed lifts his glass and holds it up to everyone around the table.
‘To Henri, for bringing us together, as he always does,’ says Fabien. Maria and Ed are holding hands under the table where they think no one can see them.
We raise our glasses again, and as we do, I spot a figure standing by the gates. I catch my breath. Everyone turns to look in the same direction.
The figure hesitates and I wonder if he’s going to leave.
Fabien is the first to stand and speak. ‘Come in. Everyone is welcome here.’ He holds out a hand.
‘Yes, come in, join us,’ I say, wondering how he’ll respond.
He looks around the group, who have fallen silent. Even the record has ended.
We shuffle up on the bench to make space for him, and my eyes prickle with pride. He steps forward and accepts a glass of wine that Graham has poured for him. ‘It’s just the local stuff,’ says Graham.
‘It’s fine. Perfect. Merci.’ He takes a sip and stiffly, with a gash on his forehead, he hands a cardboard box to me. ‘Crème caramels … like Henri used to make, on a Saturday night for me,’ he says. ‘Henri. Papa.’
I take the box from him, open it and peer in. Everyone is watching me. A smile grows across my face as I reach in and take one out. ‘Hardly like Henri used to make!’ I laugh at the beautifully crafted little morsels, breathing in their caramel scent, with other miniature desserts, beautifully crafted.
‘Well, a blend of the two of us. The classic tastes and flavours, and the flair of the new,’ he says, with a respectful nod.
‘The past, the present and the future,’ I say. It’s perfect.
‘There really is room for both of us in the town. All of us,’ I tell Zacharie, as he sips his wine.
‘I know. I’m sorry. I behaved badly. I was angry, letting the past cloud my judgement of what is right here, under my nose. The love for my father is real. I’m sorry,’ he says, turning to Rhi, who stands. ‘Would it be all right if …’ She doesn’t let him finish before she’s hugging him hard and he slowly, as if taken a little by surprise at first, hugs her back in a clumsy but still well-meaning gesture.
‘Please join us,’ I say, and Fabien brings another chair, placing it next to mine.
Graham tops up the drinks and Ed repositions the record player arm so Edith is singing ‘La Vie En Rose’. We clink glasses, ‘To Henri,’ and sip.
Then Zacharie says, ‘The bistro is gone. Once the insurance comes through, I’ll be looking at new premises. We could always talk about some ideas, working together in a new venture.’
‘Ah, it’s good of you, but I don’t think that’s going to work now,’ I say. ‘I’m not sure I’m a Michelin-star sort of cook. But that’s okay. Like I said, there’s room for everyone.’
‘There is.’ He nods and smiles.
‘You could carry on with the supper club here,’ Fabien says. ‘My profits have never been so good! However, you will be taking things a lot easier from now on,’ he says to me.
‘I will.’ I laugh.
‘And I apologize for my behaviour, both of you,’ says Zacharie. He holds out his hand to me, and I shake it, then to Fabien, who accepts it and shakes. They both know it’s what Henri would have done.
‘However,’ I look around the table, ‘the autumn is coming. Maybe we could do the supper club next summer, but in the meantime, I was thinking about events catering, weddings, christenings, first communions, even moving into catering for film crews or food festivals. Anywhere that needs us to feed people.’
Keith and Graham, Maria, Ed and Jen all look at each other and smile.
‘That sounds amazing!’ says Graham.
‘Brilliant,’ says Jen.
Maria’s phone pings. She looks at it. ‘It’s Marco. He’s heading for the airport tomorrow and wants to know if I’ll be joining him to travel home.’
She looks at Ed. ‘Well, I have to be going back, so …’ She trails off.
‘You could stay,’ I say. ‘If you wanted to. All of you. Us. Working as a team. Doing what we do now. It’s a leap of faith. I don’t know what work we’ll get, but if we managed to pull this off, I’m pretty sure we can set ourselves up as an outside catering company. We can call it Henri’s At Home! Chez Henri!’
And they nod in agreement.
‘I’d like to stay on here for a while,’ says Keith to Graham. ‘Find ourselves somewhere to rent. Somewhere I can create a home for us.’
And Graham beams. ‘Perfect!’
‘We should let Bobby know,’ says Graham, picking up his phone, his hands shaking with his excitement.
‘What about you, Jen?’ I say.
‘Well, I was going to offer you a lift to the airport, Maria, but, actually, it’s time for a rest. The van and I should stay exactly where we are. I’d like to think my travelling days are over, that this is where my journey ends. I can’t run for ever. I messed up and there’s no going back, but that’s not to say I don’t still have a future. Like you say, don’t wait for it not to be hard to be happy.’
Then I look at Ed.
Maria’s phone is beeping again.
And I know Ed is torn. If he could find a way of staying with Maria, of not hurting his parents …
Maria looks at him. ‘There’s nothing I want to get back to Australia for right now,’ she says aloud. She’s talking to Ed. She types a message and puts down her phone. It rattles with replies but she ignores them and smiles. She has her wings and she’s using them. ‘I don’t know where I come from, but I do know that I’ve found myself here. And I like that. So this is where I’m going to stay.’
We give a little cheer, and Ed is wide-eyed.
Then Zacharie gives a little cough.
‘Well, it’ll be a while before l’expérience is open again, so perhaps if you need a chef, I could join the team …’
‘It’s up to the team,’ I say.
‘The more the merrier,’ says Jen.
‘Of course!’ say the others.
I can’t help but beam. These people who never even met Henri feel part of his world.
Everyone is smiling, except Ed, who is checking his phone. His flight is booked for tomorrow and I know he’s working out just how long he has left here.
‘Talking of weddings. There’s one wedding that needs to take place here …’ Fabien says quietly to me. ‘What’s it to be?’
I nod, with no hesitation, then kiss him. He stands and wipes tears from his eyes.
‘I know one event I’d like you all to cater for,’ he says. ‘Del and I are getting married. And we have a baby on the way. I couldn’t be more excited about our future. So, we need you all here for that.’
Stephanie and Carine jump up to hug me, and Tomas joins in, as does little Louis, who hasn’t a clue as to what’s going on but doesn’t want to be left out.
JB is shaking Fabien’s hand and slapping him on the back.
Our family.
And then I hear a ringtone on a FaceTime call.
‘There, it’s easy. Nothing to be scared of,’ says Maria, standing by Graham.
‘I always email. I haven’t done this before.’
‘It’s simple,’ she says. ‘And you’ll be able to see him.’
‘I don’t think he’ll answer,’ says Graham.
‘Don’t worry, we’ll try him again tomorrow,’ Keith reassures him. ‘He might be busy, seeing friends.’
Suddenly the ringtone changes.
‘Dad! Dad?’
‘Hello, son,’ says Graham, his face full of love. ‘Are we interrupting?’
‘Not at all. I’ve just never known you to FaceTime before! You always email. Is everything okay?’
‘A friend, Maria, showed me how to do it,’ says Graham. ‘Everything’s fine.’
‘That’s brilliant! You two look amazing!’
‘We feel it!’ says Keith. ‘We’ve got some news. We’re going to stay on a bit in France. Find a house to rent.’
‘Make a home.’ Graham beams.
‘In that case, I’d better come and see you soon.’
‘We’d love that.’
‘Because there’s someone I want you to meet,’ he says. ‘This is Alexandra, my girlfriend.’
Keith’s hands shoot up to cover his mouth.
‘I’m sorry I haven’t been home of late. I’ve been a bit busy,’ we hear him say. ‘We met in the lunch queue at uni and haven’t been apart since. I just didn’t want to say anything before we were … y’know … official.’
‘Oh, my God! That’s wonderful! Hello, Alexandra! I’m Dad.’
‘And I’m Dad,’ says Keith.
‘I’ve heard all about Bobby’s two dads. He’s so proud of you,’ says Alexandra. ‘You brought up the man I’ve fallen in love with so that must make you pretty special. I can’t wait to meet you in person.’
They talk animatedly together and to the young woman with Bobby on the screen. Then Graham turns to us. ‘Everyone, this is our son, Bobby.’
‘And his girlfriend, Alexandra,’ says Keith, a blubbering mess.
‘And this is the brocante where we’re holding supper club!’ Keith takes the phone and holds it up for Bobby to see.
‘It’s exactly how you described it in your emails, Dad,’ he says to Keith. ‘Sorry, I should have sent more back. But I loved getting them. I felt I was there! I can’t wait to visit the new house.’
‘And bring Alexandra.’
They blow kisses and we all shout goodbye as they finish their call.
We sigh, the music plays, and Keith tops up everyone’s glass when a woman standing by the gates, waving, catches my eye.
‘More customers?’
Fabien shrugs. ‘No idea.’
‘Budge up, everyone! Make room. There’s plenty of food left,’ says Jen, welcoming them in.
This time it’s Ed’s jaw that drops. ‘Mum, Dad, what are you doing here?’ He stands and walks towards them.
I look at Fabien, who shrugs again.
‘Mum, Dad? You don’t fly! You don’t even leave our town!’
‘They do a lovely panini on the plane! Even had a glass of wine.’ His mum is smiling, her cheeks rosy.
‘And we thought maybe we should come and see this place that seems to have caught your interest,’ his dad says, clearly proud of himself and his wife for having made the trip. ‘We thought we’d meet you before you travel home. Just in case you were feeling worried about coming back or anything.’
‘Actually, Mum, Dad, there’s something I need to tell you,’ Ed says.
‘It’s all right, son. We know – we’ve always known,’ says his dad.
‘What?’
‘That you’re different,’ he says. ‘Not like me and Mum.’
‘Hang on, I don’t know if you’re on the right track here.’
‘I’m just saying we need to accept you for who you are.’
‘Are you gay?’ says his mum. ‘Because I love you just the way you are.’
‘No, Mum, I’m not gay!’ Ed blushes. ‘Sorry,’ he says to Graham and Keith, who laugh.
‘I didn’t think so. But Jean down the road said she thought you were and that’s why you didn’t go through with the wedding. I told her she was wrong. I said to your father, “We need to go and tell him we love him whatever. He’s got no reason not to come home.”’
‘I’m not gay,’ Ed says quickly, ‘but I do want different things. I know you want me to come home. But …’ he takes a deep breath, ‘… that’s not where I want to be.’
For a moment no one says anything. The candles in the courtyard burn brightly in the warm summer’s evening.
‘No, son. We know. And maybe it wasn’t you that needed to come home, but us that needed to learn to spread our wings. I’m sorry. We realize now we were trying to get you to be what we wanted you to be, not letting you be yourself. With us only having you, we’d put everything on you and that wasn’t fair. Sorry.’
His father gulps and Ed steps forward and puts his arms round his father, who is taken aback, but then embraces Ed. I have a feeling it’s the first time they’ve hugged like this, but maybe not the last.
His mum puts her arms around them both.
‘We were just so proud, what with your degree and a lovely girlfriend, but it’s not about what we want. We don’t want to see you unhappy. You have to follow your dreams. Like we did. They’re just different dreams.’
‘Now, come and join us,’ says Ed. ‘There’s plenty of food, a lot of which I made.’
‘You? Cooking?’ says his mum. ‘Well, that’s a turn-up for the books.’
‘I always thought you’d be creative. Your nan was a smashing cook!’ says his dad. His mum nudges her husband in the ribs, looking cross. ‘And your mum, of course!’
Keith helps seat them around the table and puts out knives and forks. Ed and Maria head to the kitchen where I can see they share the kiss they’ve been wanting to do since they first met.
More food is laid out, sharing plates and main courses, everyone helping again. The music and the conversation start again. Just as lively as before, with Ed’s mum and dad being introduced to the mayor, Carine sitting with Zacharie and Samuel, and hearing about Henri’s riverside project.
I look around the table. Everyone is here, the past, the present and the future, and that’s all down to Henri. It’s not where we are but who we are because of him and who we’re with. Wherever there’s a table, Henri will always be with us. I chink glasses with Rhi, and watch Fabien dancing on the old rugs with little Louis and Tomas, harmonica in hand. This is my future. We may not know what it will hold, but it is my future and I am happy.