Epilogue
Christmas Eve
I pull up in the bakery van outside the boulangerie from a last round of visits to the four villages that used to depend on vending machines for their bread and now wait for Dolly and me to arrive each day.
The machines have been covered with black sacking, no doubt waiting to be moved on to other small villages that don’t have a local boulangerie any more.
Claude’s is closed and standing empty, after he tried to upscale his side hustle and sell drugs from under the counter at the shop.
It wasn’t long before the gendarmes got wind of it – it seems that Claude wasn’t so close and friendly with the local police force as he claimed he was.
A cheer went up when he was charged, while angry parents and shopkeepers alike celebrated getting rid of him and his clients, and vowed to boycott the shop.
I’ve visited some of the nearby farms and hamlets that I regularly deliver to and received gifts of wine, homemade paté and local cheeses to wish me a happy Christmas.
I can’t wait to share them with Laurent and Madame B.
Everyone in France is getting ready for the big Christmas Eve dinner.
They’ve been preparing it for weeks, and I’m no exception.
I have everything planned and ready at the mill.
There is a table in the middle of the room, covered in a white cloth with red candles and dark green ivy trailing down it.
A huge tree stands beside the millstones, decorated with red and gold baubles, lights and holly decorating the mantelpiece over the fire that is laid and ready to light.
Festive cards are strung up either side of it with Christmas wishes from back home, including one from Pete and Mandy with a snowy golf buggy and a little Jack Russell in a Santa hat driving it on the front.
It’s a big tree for just Laurent, me and Madame B.
But why not? I thought. We have the space.
I switch off the Christmas music I’m playing from my phone on the van’s dashboard, then duck out beneath festooned paper chains and bunting.
I pick up the empty baskets and make sure the side hatch is secure, then step out into the cold, dark, crisp Christmas Eve.
The church bells are pealing and people are on the steps, greeting each other with kisses and wishing each other ‘ Joyeux Noel .’ The lights are twinkling in the square, multicoloured bulbs strung between the plane trees – it was a spectacle in itself watching Gilles and the others with the tractor putting them up. It couldn’t feel more festive.
I look to where the tabac once was and wave at the new owners of the wine shop and deli, selling meats and cheeses from the local area.
They wish me a joyeux Noel and I tell them I look forward to seeing them at the mill for drinks tomorrow – Christmas morning – with Gilles and his wife and the others from the village. And Bertrand the mayor, of course.
I look back at the boulangerie with its newly painted sign, Annie’s in gold, shining brightly, making my eyes sparkle with a few tears for a friend who should still be here. ‘Because she couldn’t be,’ I told Laurent, when I finally settled on a name.
‘It’s perfect,’ he said. ‘It’s your second chance, and she would be cheering you on all the way. Just as she did from the start.’
I can’t wait for Annie’s husband and the children to visit in the spring, as we’ve agreed, when the weather is warmer and they can enjoy exploring the woods and playing in the swimming hole.
The lights are on in the boulangerie and the orange glow I love to see is as bright as ever.
I head to the shop and push open the door, hearing the tinkle of the bell.
I stand for a moment, taking in the rush of warmth from the ovens, the voices and laughter.
Suddenly, the room falls quiet and I hear, ‘Mum!’
‘Surprise!’
Maddie, Jake, and Becky! I rush forward and hug them tightly. ‘You’re here!’ I say, with a crack in my voice.
‘Well, we knew you wouldn’t be able to get away now you have the bakery van.’
‘Dolly,’ Madame B corrects.
‘Dolly.’ Maddie laughs. ‘So we came to see you!’
‘Oh, this is wonderful.’ I look at Laurent. ‘Did you know?’
He shrugs. ‘I may have had an idea. Maddie wanted to surprise you and asked if I thought it would be okay.’
‘I thought we agreed no more secrets!’ I say, then laugh. ‘Unless they’re glorious ones like this!’
I hear a pop. Madame B has bottles of crémant in an ice bucket on the table, and glasses. Tea lights flicker against the dark night outside. There are little rounds of toasted French bread topped with grilled goat’s cheese and paté.
‘A little aperitif before dinner,’ she suggests, and I think about the turkey that’s cooking in the oven at the mill, far too big for the three of us. And there’s a B?che de Noel, a chocolate log, and, of course, a cheese board that will feed us for days to come.
Laurent is filling the glasses and handing them round. I take one and turn back to Maddie and Jake. ‘But what about your dad? Did he mind you leaving him at Christmas?’
‘No,’ says Jake. ‘He’s spending it with Mandy. Lunch at the golf club.’
‘Oh, that’s great.’ I smile.
‘He’s good, Mum. Really good. They’re enjoying each other’s company,’ says Maddie.
‘I’m happy for him, for them.’
‘And they’re thinking of mixing things up and creating a new tradition: presents after lunch instead of before!’
We laugh fondly.
‘And what about Heidi?’ I ask Maddie.
She takes a sip of the sparkling wine. ‘Actually, Mum, I’m taking a leaf out of your book, having some time on my own to find out who the real me is.’
‘Well, you know how that turned out for me!’ I look at Laurent and we chuckle. ‘And what about you two? How are plans for a full-time life in Spain going?’
‘Ah, well, that’s been put on the back-burner,’
‘It’s not for us,’ says Becky. ‘We’re slowing down a bit.’
‘Becky is pregnant,’ says Jake, suddenly.
‘Oh, what lovely news,’ I say, and hug them both.
‘Not what we’d planned, but we’re thrilled – even if we are still getting our heads around it!
We’re considering how to make it all work between us.
Djing in Spain doesn’t seem quite right now …
so we’re looking for new opportunities. A bit more of a settled life.
I just want to be the best dad I can be.
In fact, this is just the sort of place I’d love to bring up our child.
Especially being close to family. I’m beginning to realise that matters. Being part of a community.’
And I hug my two children all over again.
Madame B coughs. ‘Well, I won’t be baking for ever, and with your mother driving the bakery van and Vivienne running the shop, it won’t be long before we’ll be looking for an assistant to learn the savoir faire and help with the baking …’
Jake looks at me. ‘Really?’
‘If it’s okay with Madame B, it’s fine by me!’
‘I’d love that!’
‘You’d be brilliant, Jake,’ says Becky.
‘Yes, please,’ he says. ‘I mean, oui, merci !’
‘Well, this might just be the best Christmas present ever,’ I say. I lift my glass. ‘To health and happiness.’
And the church bells continue to ring as the families head home for their Christmas Eve feast.
‘To a wonderful day with you all tomorrow. Madame B, is the mayor bringing you to the mill for drinks?’
‘He is,’ she answers, and I swear I see sudden pink in her cheeks.
‘What about you, Mum?’ Maddie asks. ‘You seem happy!’
‘I couldn’t be happier,’ I say. ‘I won’t ever be French, but I’m not defined by being British any more. I’m just Juliet, and I’m loving being on this journey with her.’
Laurent pulls me close and drops a kiss on my lips.
‘ Merci ,’ I whisper. ‘For everything.’
‘And you,’ he says quietly, and I feel the heat from his body close to mine and know I’m exactly where I want to be, in the bakery, with the ones I love.
And as I look through the window, with Annie’s name in gold across the glass, I smile at the Christmassy square.
I look above the church, and a shooting star arcs across the dark, diamond-studded sky.
I make a promise to keep seizing the day, not to let anything stop me living it to the full.
I’ll make the most of what I have, loving deeply, every single day, for as long as I live.