Chapter 12
‘Maman has decided she would like to have our Christmas trees early this year,’ Brigitte said, walking into Hervé’s shop the morning after Monique’s words had riled her.
‘Ready for when Albert and Marc arrive. And I have decided I would like one for the shop too,’ she added.
‘I don’t suppose you have any tinsel, do you? ’
Hervé shook his head. ‘Sadly, no tinsel. Monique’s tree for the sitting room was two metres last year, I think,’ he said, opening his order book and flipping through the pages. ‘Oui, two metres. And the one for the terrace, three metres. Same size for both this year, I assume?’
Brigitte nodded. ‘Yes, please.’
‘And the two-metre size for the shop?’
‘I think a metre will be big enough. I’m not sure where I’m going to place it yet. Oh, you’ve got fairy lights. Can I have a box of those too, please,’ and she pointed to a pile of decorative lights placed temptingly near the Christmas trees.
‘I can deliver yours around midday,’ Hervé said. ‘When would be the best time for Monique?’
Brigitte shrugged. ‘As late as possible, make her think I’ve forgotten to do it. I’ll pay you for the lights now, but the three trees can go on her bill.’
‘Wow, she really upset you last night, didn’t she?’ Hervé said.
‘Let’s say she hit a nerve. I can’t wait for Albert and Marc to arrive, hopefully she’ll be so busy trying to run their lives that she’ll forget about mine.’
‘Doubtful, but you can hope,’ Hervé said, grinning at her. ‘She’s unlikely to change a habit of a lifetime now.’
‘I can always move out, I suppose, once Albert is here. I wouldn’t be leaving her on her own then. I’ll see you later, and thanks.’ Brigitte gave him a brief smile as she left.
As she unlocked the shop shutter, her comment about moving out, half made in jest, came into her mind, and she glanced up at the windows of the apartment that was above the shop.
Two floors, a sitting room with a balcony, two bedrooms, a large kitchen-diner and a decent-sized bathroom.
Because access to it was only through the shop, it had remained empty ever since she’d opened Vintage Vignettes.
You couldn’t have tenants coming and going through the shop.
She had fleetingly thought about living there when they had first acquired it, but Monique had dismissed the idea almost instantly, saying it would just create more bills.
No, far better for her to stay living at home.
Maybe it was time to put an end to that arrangement?
* * *
A busy morning and a last-minute customer at noon meant that Brigitte was ushering the woman and her unruly toddler out of the door when Hervé arrived with the Christmas tree.
As he stepped inside, she locked the door with a sigh of relief.
‘Some people. Thanks for bringing the tree. What’s in the box?
’ she said, noticing a cardboard box balanced on the pot.
Hervé ignored her question. ‘Are you going to put the tree in the window?’
‘Hadn’t really thought about it. I might keep it in the shop,’ Brigitte said. ‘It’s small enough to go on the table. I’ll decide later.’
‘I’ll put it down over there then.’ Hervé nodded to the corner.
‘It will be out of the way until you decide. I can always come back and place it where you want.’ Straightening up, he glanced at her as he picked up the cardboard box.
‘I thought as we enjoyed a slice of socca together last night, I’d push my luck and bring lunch with me today.
Fancy a pan bagnat? With tuna, not anchovies, I hasten to add. ’
Brigitte smiled. After all these years, he’d remembered her aversion to what was practically a prerequisite in salads and pizzas in the South of France.
‘Sounds good. I’ll make some coffee, but first I need you to come upstairs with me.
I could do with some – not advice exactly – your opinion about something. ’
‘Lead on.’
Brigitte led the way upstairs and opened the door at the top.
It was quite some time since she’d been up here and her first thought as they wandered through the basic kitchen-diner with just a sink in the corner, and then the next room, was that this floor was more spacious and lighter than she remembered.
The other two rooms up the second shorter flight of stairs were a good size, and Brigitte had forgotten one of them had French doors out on to a small rooftop terrace.
The bathroom at the end was old-fashioned but quite acceptable.
‘Are you thinking of renting it out?’ Hervé said.
‘Non, that is impossible. The only access is through the shop.’ Brigitte hesitated. ‘I was thinking maybe I could live up here. I’m sure I could make it into somewhere comfortable and where I’d be happy. It would be nice, too, to have some of my own things around.’
Hervé looked at her surprised. ‘Your maman upset you that much last night?’
Brigitte rubbed her face tiredly. ‘She made me question why I’m living at home at my age.’ She turned and made for the staircase. ‘Come on. Let’s have lunch and you can tell me I’m mad for even thinking about moving in here.’