Chapter 45
The next nine days passed in a flurry of hard work for Brigitte.
There were trips with Hervé and lots of laughter as they turned the apartment into her new home.
Hervé was like a man possessed, he was so determined to get the apartment habitable in time for Brigitte to move in before re-opening Vintage Vignettes.
With Monique still being difficult at home with snide remarks every time she saw Brigitte removing more of her things, Brigitte herself was getting desperate to leave.
Once every room had been stripped of its wallpaper or had its walls washed, doors and window frames sandpapered ready for painting, floors scrubbed and vacuumed, Hervé insisted they had a day out and drove them to the largest brocante in the area, where they gently bickered over some of the items Brigitte wanted to buy.
At one point, Brigitte joked that they were like an old married couple.
She couldn’t quite decipher whether the raised eyebrows Hervé gave her at that moment was a good thing or not.
Sometime during the week, though, she decided that once life settled back down into its normal routine of running Vintage Vignettes, and she was used to living in the apartment, she’d maybe cautiously raise the subject of Hervé’s moustache, try to work out if the time would ever come when he might shave it off, without raising his suspicions about why she was mentioning it.
Deliveries that arrived over the course of two or three days were left in the shop with Brigitte’s buys from the brocante.
Once the apartment was ready, Hervé enlisted Marc’s help in getting the larger items upstairs and then together he and Brigitte arranged them the way she wanted.
Of course, there were still things she would add over time, like a bed for the second bedroom, some small lamps, and a dishwasher, but newly decorated and even with the small amount of furniture she had, it felt good.
Brigitte moved into the apartment and immediately organised a house-warming party for the following Saturday evening.
* * *
Before everyone arrived, she looked around the sitting room and gave a happy smile. But she knew without Hervé’s help she’d have struggled to do it, she really owed him. One last check on the platters of food she’d prepared and Brigitte went downstairs to wait for people to arrive.
Mel, Marc, Evie and Rudi arrived virtually together and Brigitte sent them on upstairs, instructing Marc to pour the wine, whilst she waited for her maman, Albert and Hervé to arrive.
Whilst she waited, she realised she would have to get different locks and an intercom on the shop door, otherwise she was going to be continually coming downstairs to answer the door.
When Albert arrived on his own, she was disappointed that her maman had decided not to come.
Albert shrugged his shoulders. ‘No apology, I’m afraid. Monique simply said she didn’t feel like being sociable.’
‘You’re here, thank you. Hervé’s not arrived yet, but he can let himself in as I gave him a key to make life easier when we were renovating.’
Hervé, when he finally arrived, was carrying a big bouquet, a welcome to your new home card and wearing his red beret as usual – but minus his moustache.
A fact that caused Brigitte to catch her breath in surprise and stare at him wide-eyed, but the party was already in full swing and Marc chose that moment to call out to her for something.
Hours later, she stood in the shop doorway saying goodnight to everyone, until only Hervé was left.
‘I think everyone enjoyed themselves,’ Brigitte said brightly. ‘I know I did. Fancy a nightcap with me to celebrate before you go home?’
‘You go and organise one and I’ll lock up again, can’t leave it open,’ Hervé said. ‘Small cognac for me, please.’
* * *
Brigitte woke early the next morning, alongside a pillow that still bore the indentation of Hervé’s head.
Her first conscious thought as she remembered the night before was ‘Oh God what have I done?’ Last night, their friendship had definitely become one with benefits – but was there a possibility that something more than even that had taken its place?
The only way to find out was to ask the question.
Getting up she slipped her arms into her silk robe and wandered downstairs. She could hear Hervé in the kitchen on the floor below, whistling softly to himself.
‘Good morning.’
‘Oh. You are up. I was planning on surprising you,’ Hervé said, spooning coffee into the cafetière.
‘You did that last night,’ Brigitte said, smiling at him. ‘There is something I need to ask you.’
Hervé turned to look at her. ‘What?’
‘Why have you shaved off your moustache?’
‘I heard you hated it.’
‘That’s what you and Marc were talking about on New Year’s Eve, wasn’t it?’ Brigitte said flatly. ‘I asked him not to tell you.’
‘He said that he was breaking a promise to you, but he didn’t care if you gave him hell over it. His excuse for telling me was that he, like me, knows we are made to be together, you and I.’
Brigitte gave a rueful nod. ‘So now I have to thank him for interfering.’
‘But I do not understand why you didn’t tell me yourself?’ Hervé said. ‘We’ve always been able to talk about everything with each other. Why not that?’
‘Because you liked it, it made you happy. I had no right to ask you to shave it off simply because I have this phobia about large moustaches and disliked it.’
There was a short silence as Hervé stared at her meaningfully. ‘I need you in my life more than I need a moustache on my face,’ he said quietly. ‘That’s why I am so happy that Marc broke his promise to you.’
‘So am I,’ Brigitte said. ‘But I have no intention of letting him know that.’
‘Come here,’ and Hervé pulled her into his arms and held her tight. ‘I have to tell you, though – the red beret is non-negotiable,’ he said, before silencing her with a kiss.