Chapter Twenty Four
‘Yes, I said Cannes. Why?’
When Poppy saw the fire in Camille’s eyes, she regretted her outburst immediately. She needed time to think through what had just flashed into her brain before she said anything to anyone, especially Camille. She could be totally wrong, and it was important she didn’t rush to any conclusions.
‘Poppy? What’s going on?
‘Nothing, I was just…’
Poppy knew she was useless at concealing the truth, even in the most innocent of situations, like birthday presents, or surprise parties, but that was fine. She would rather be a blabbermouth than a secret-keeper any day, and even more so after she’d had personal experience of the devastating impact secrets could have on someone’s wellbeing from both sides of the coin; the deceived and the deceiver. However, she also knew that Camille wouldn’t give up until she had wriggled it out of her.
‘It’s just that I heard someone mention Cannes recently, that’s all.’
‘Who?’
A squirm of unease meandered through her chest. ‘Stéphane.’
‘The guy at Librairie Juliette? You brother’s friend who took you out on a date?’
‘It wasn’t a… Yes, him.’
‘You think he’s doing this?’
‘No, of course not. I was just…’
Camille’s eyes narrowed as she stared at Poppy.
‘Does he write stuff as well as sell it?’
‘Actually, he told me… Oh my God!’
‘What?’
‘He told me he writes “short journalist pieces about the world around us”.’
‘Like restaurant reviews?’
‘Well, I think he said book reviews, but…’
‘Do you know if he’s at the bookshop today?’
‘Actually, I spoke to him early this morning.’
‘Really?’
Poppy rolled her eyes at Camille’s inference. ‘I’ve mislaid my notebook, and I thought I might have left it at the bookshop last night, but he said that nothing has been handed in.’
‘Do you believe him?’
‘What? Yes, of course, I do. Why would he steal my notebook?’
‘Why would he write scathing reviews about Bistro Fabien?’
‘But we don’t know that he has! The connection is tenuous at the most!’
Camille ignored her and jumped from her seat, a look of steely determination in her eyes.
‘So, let’s go and talk to him.’
‘Please, Camille, don’t you think we’re in enough trouble as it is? Olivier is livid with us for entering the competition without telling him, and Fabien might feel the same if we go charging around making wild accusations against fellow traders without a scrap of evidence to back them up. I think we should take a step back, wait until—’
‘Until what? Until Fabien leaves Paris to take up a job in a scruffy bar in Nice?’
‘No, I—’
But it was too late. Before Poppy could progress her argument for restraint any further, Camille had left the café and was marching across the street towards Librairie Juliette. Poppy grabbed her purse, dropped a few euros on the table, and dashed in her wake, desperate to make her see sense, as well as chastising herself for planting the seed in her friend’s head in the first place.
‘Camille!’
To Poppy’s relief she managed to stall Camille before she pulled open the door to the bookshop and started to interrogate Stéphane on the subject of lost notebooks and posting fake reviews on websites just for the sake of it.
‘Please don’t do this.’
‘Have you forgotten that it was you who suggested we “do the digging”?’
‘I know, I know, but before we go inside, let’s ask ourselves this. Why would Stéphane do such a thing? He barely knows Fabien.’
‘Jealousy,’Camille shot back without hesitation.
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Maybe he fell in love with you when you were on your date. Then, the super-sexy Michelin-starred chef Fabien Dumont breezes in and snatches you from his grasp and he’s devastated and wants to seek his revenge!’
‘Camille, this is serious.’
‘I’m being serious.’
‘He wouldn’t do that.’
‘How do you know?’
‘I just do. Anyway, most of the negative reviews that were posted about the bistro were from before I even arrived in Paris!’
‘Okay, it’s another reason then.’
Camille pulled open the door and stepped inside the bookshop, leaving Poppy with no alternative but to follow her.
‘Ah, salut, Poppy,’ said Stéphane, smiling as he came from behind the counter to greet her.
‘Salut, Stéphane, this is my friend, Camille Courbet. Camille, this is Stéphane, a friend of my brother’s.’ She emphasised the words “friend” and “brother” to remind Camille not to rush in with unfounded accusations that could cause untold harm to Jamie and Stéphane’s friendship.
‘Bonjour, Stéphane.’
‘Enchanté, Camille.’
Stéphane smiled a little warily at Camille, and Poppy didn’t blame him. She was giving off a distinctly assertive vibe as she stood in front of him, like a firework primed to explode at any moment.
‘I’m pleased you came in, Poppy,’ said Stéphane. ‘I have something for you.’
‘What?’ demanded Camille, her eyes glinting with suspicion.
Stéphane’s forehead creased at Camille’s surprise interjection, but he ignored her as he ducked behind the counter then handed Poppy her notebook.
‘A customer found it on a table in the Military History section last night and handed it in to my colleague who put it behind the counter for safekeeping. Simone only told me about it when she came in for her shift this morning, a few minutes after you’d called.’
‘Thank you, Stéphane, you have no idea how happy I am to get this back.’
‘Can we ask you something, Stéphane?’ said Camille, holding Stéphane’s gaze.
‘Of course,’ said Stéphane, offering Camille a cautious smile. ‘I can direct you to anything that takes your interest. Jules Verne, Victor Hugo, Alexandre Dumas, émile Zola, Albert Camus, Simone de Beauvoir, Marguerite Duras—’
‘Actually, it’s a more recent—’
To Poppy’s relief, Camille’s phone chose that moment to burst into life.
‘I think you should answer that,’ said Poppy firmly.
‘So do I,’ Camille murmured, her voice becoming softer and softer as she disappeared into the labyrinth of bookshelves so that all Poppy heard was ‘Salut, étienne’.
‘Thanks again for finding my notebook, Stéphane.’
‘De rein.’ Stéphane paused, casting a glance over his shoulder to make sure Camille was out of earshot before continuing. ‘Erm, is there something wrong? Your friend seems a little… agitated.’
‘Actually, it’s been quite a challenging morning.’
‘If there’s anything—’
Stéphane stopped when Camille reappeared, her demeanour flustered.
‘Camille? What’s happened?’
‘Change of plan. Let’s go.’
After giving a completely bewildered Stéphane a hug, Camille proceeded to all-but drag Poppy from the bookshop and guide her towards a doorway further down the street so they could shelter from the strengthening breeze.
‘What’s going on?’
‘I’ve just spoken to étienne. I told you that he promised to scour his order book for any information he could find on who sent the bouquet of flowers to Bistro Fabien, and he discovered that it was his colleague, Vivienne, who took the order over the telephone. He called Vivienne, and she remembered that it was a woman who ordered the flowers.’
‘A woman?’
‘Yes, so not your friend Stéphane, like you thought.’
‘I didn’t think it was Stéphane.’
Unsurprisingly, Camille ignored her.
‘Come on, it’s time to tell Fabien and Pascal what our digging has revealed.’