by Jo Thomas
We all look at it, written on a paper bag from the greengrocer.
Dear Del, Thank you for giving me and Tomas a home. Tomas has been so happy since he moved here. This is the kind of life I dreamed of for him. I cannot give it to him. But you can. And so I have decided to leave and let him have a life with someone who can do better than me. Please tell him I love him and have done this because I love him and want the best for him. Do not try to find me. This is for the best. Stephanie. x
‘She’s gone!’ Rhi looks at Tomas. ‘Without Tomas!’ He smiles a crumby smile and my heart cracks wide open. ‘Because she thinks you can give him a better life. She thinks she has nothing to offer.’
‘There’s a girl whose confidence is at rock bottom,’ says Lou, shaking her head. ‘You can’t rely on a man to fill the hole in your life.’
‘You can’t rely on a man full stop!’ says Rhi.
‘I don’t think that’s necessarily true,’ I say. ‘You’ve never trusted a man since Michael left you, and you don’t let anyone close enough so you can’t get hurt,’ I say.
They start to argue, but we all know now is not the time. Maybe I shouldn’t have said that, but it’s true. None of us has got it right.
‘You were the only one with a man and you dumped him,’ says Lou.
‘Not now,’ says Rhi, sensibly, and we all bite our tongues.
‘But I do know that I’m to blame for her feeling like this. She looked to me for advice. And after the business with Fabien …’
‘What business with Fabien?’ asks Lou, straight to the point again.
‘Nothing,’ I say. ‘She asked my advice about JB and I told her to go for it. I thought she was being so strong and brave when actually she was cracking under the strain. We have to find her.’ I shove the note into my back pocket. ‘I may not be a mum, but one thing I do know,’ I say, gesturing at Tomas, ‘is that everyone needs their mum.’ Mine had probably given me the strength to do what I’ve done here. She always made me feel that everything would turn out okay in the end. And if it wasn’t okay, it wasn’t the end, she used to say. Stephanie doesn’t have that person. She needs to know it will all be okay in the end. She needs to be with Tomas. And I need to swallow my pride. I need to talk to Fabien.
THIRTY
The three of us and Tomas hurry into town, Rhi, Lou and I taking turns to carry him. Tomas refused to leave Ralph behind, so he’s come too, bounding along the riverside path, darting this way and that, each of us taking turns to hold the lead and be towed along. I have no doubt where I need to go first. All my instincts lead me there, despite my promise to keep my distance. There is only one person I need to get to right now.
‘Fabien!’ I call, as I hurry up the road to the brocante, hot, out of breath and terrified something dreadful has happened to Stephanie, a young woman who thinks she has failed at everything in life, and who has been rejected by everyone she ever cared about, her mother, Fabien and now JB. I try to think back to when I was that age. Seventeen and foolish. I can’t say I’m particularly sensible now. I’ve separated from my husband to live in an empty house and am scraping a living selling lavender bakes and desserts. Plus I’ve taken in a vulnerable girl with her child because I couldn’t leave her where she was. Now I’ve made her life a thousand times worse. However, although I may not be any more sensible now than I was at seventeen, I have learned to take account of my gut feelings. And right now they’re telling me to find Stephanie – fast.
Fabien is with a young woman, about his age, who is looking at a damaged but beautiful dappled-grey rocking horse. He turns to me, his eyebrows raised in surprise. Tomas cheers, delighted to see him.
‘Fabien! I need your help,’ I say quickly. ‘It’s Stephanie!’
He excuses himself from the customer, who looks miffed, and hurries over to us. He grasps Tomas’s outstretched hand, and kisses it. My heart somersaults and breaks a little more. Why couldn’t JB have felt like this? If he had, maybe Stephanie wouldn’t have run away and Tomas would still be with his mum. She is all he needs. One good parent is better than no parent, as I know.
‘She’s disappeared,’ I say quickly.
‘Disparu.’ Lou finds some school French and clearly thinks I need help explaining.
‘Leaving Tomas!’ Rhi joins in.
‘I’m really worried about her,’ I tell Fabien, gazing into his green eyes and knowing he understands without my having to say any more.
‘She left a note,’ Rhi is still explaining.
‘She thinks she can’t offer Tomas anything, that he’s better off without her.’
I am racked with guilt. I only wanted to help – and now I’ve forced a young mum to do the worst imaginable thing and walk away from her son, because she thinks she’s worthless. Tears slide down my cheeks. I heard somewhere you cry different tears for different types of sadness. These aren’t the same as the ones I wept on the night I spent in the house after Ollie left: they were for my failure, as a wife and mother. These tears are of sadness, loss and grief, like the ones I cried when Mum died, just months ago. I feel helpless, lost and utterly wretched.
‘I have to find her, Fabien. I have to put this right,’ I say. I wipe my face with my forearm. Tomas hands me Monsieur Lapin, which makes me cry and smile at the same time.
‘Okay, don’t worry.’ Fabien reaches out a hand and hesitates – I think he’s going to wipe the tears and my insides thunder with excitement. Instead, he lays it on my shoulder in a friendly, reassuring way. It’s not half as intimate as touching my face, and my heart starts to slow. Now he ruffles Tomas’s hair gently and speaks quietly to him, telling him that everything will be okay. Tomas holds Monsieur Lapin to my cheeks. The stuffed rabbit smells of lavender. It smells of home. Like a hug from my mum. Now I need to find Tomas’s mum so he can have one of those hugs too.
‘I’ll message Carine. If Stephanie is hiding in any of the empty houses, or holiday rentals, Carine will know. She can put out feelers. She has many … contacts,’ he says. I think he’s referring to her lovers. ‘She is even … close friends with the mayor. They will all look out for Stephanie and contact Carine if they see her.’ He finishes sending the message. ‘In the meantime, we will go and see Henri. He’ll be able to tell us more. He knows most of the stallholders in the market, the shop owners and—’
‘Henri! Good idea! He might have seen her.’ I spin round and head out of the courtyard, as Fabien apologizes to his customer, who tuts and flounces out. He pulls the gates to the courtyard shut behind him and locks them.
I head across the road and through the worn stone arch, then down the narrow street, as fast as the shiny warm cobbles will let me, towards Henri’s bistro where the awnings are out and tables laid, the paper cloths flapping in the constant breeze.
I hurry to the restaurant, still carrying Tomas, my arms aching. I don’t want to pass him to Rhi or Lou – I can’t let him down. I say hello to Henri, accept his kisses and explain what’s happened. Henri nods and listens.
‘I’ll speak to people. Put the word out. She won’t have gone far,’ he says reassuringly. ‘Give me your mobile number. I’ll text if there’s any news.’
‘What should I do? Where can I start looking?’
‘Remember what it was like to be seventeen,’ he tells me. ‘She’s hurt. She’s angry, with you, with the world. Give her time. She’ll come round.’ He looks at me kindly, then wraps his arms around me and Tomas, and I let him, taking strength from him. ‘And she may be seventeen and angry, but she’s also a mother and she loves this one. She won’t stay away for long. She won’t leave him, no matter what she’s saying. Don’t worry. We’ll make sure she’s safe.’
I don’t ask who he means by ‘we’, but I trust what he’s said. I study his face. Stephanie was right: he looks tired. There are dark circles around his lined eyes.
He pushes his white hair off his forehead. ‘Go back to Le Petit Mas, in case she comes home and wants to see Tomas,’ he tells me.
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sp; ‘If you see her, tell her I’m sorry,’ I say. ‘Tell her to come home.’ This is home. He nods, understanding, and briefly hugs me again. I turn to see Fabien looking straight at me, making me blush.
We walk back to the main road. Fabien says goodbye and starts to cross the street to the brocante, pulling out his keys to unlock the doors.
‘Thank you, Fabien,’ I say.
‘She’ll turn up. Try not to worry. Henri knows,’ he says, and unlocks the gates. Suddenly I feel a huge distance between us and it’s not just the road.
We turn silently towards the river. There, outside the swanky bar that Ollie loved, are Cora and her friends.
‘Cora! I’m looking for the young woman, Stephanie, who’s staying with me,’ I say quickly, before they can kiss us all. I need to spread the word, and fast.
‘Oh, yes.’ She nods politely, clearly snubbed by my having cut out the formalities.
‘Have you seen her? She has blonde hair, and is very slight,’ I blurt.
‘Ah,’ says Cora, slowly and deliberately, infuriating me. ‘I heard you had one of those homeless people staying with you.’ She smiles but it doesn’t reach her eyes.
‘Um, Stephanie isn’t homeless. She lives with me and works for me.’
Her eyebrows shoot up. ‘Lives with you? I assumed she was doing some kind of community service, payback for what she did to you.’
My hackles rise and I bite my lip.
‘And who’s this little chap?’ she asks, reaching for Tomas, who pulls away and nestles into my neck.
‘This is Tomas,’ I say impatiently.
‘Oh, and is he visiting too?’ She looks at Rhi and Lou.
‘No,’ says Lou. ‘He lives at Le Petit Mas.’
‘Sounds like quite a commune you’ve got there!’ Cora smiles again. ‘Just, well, you don’t need me to tell you to be careful.’
She sips her café au lait.
‘What exactly do you mean by that?’
‘Well, a leopard can’t change its spots, dear. Once a thief, always a thief. Whatever you might think. Whatever your good intentions …’
I am now fully fuelled on rage. ‘Stephanie is not a user or a thief. She’s a hard worker and a great mother.’
‘Really?’ says Cora. ‘Then where is she now and why are you out looking for her? What kind of a mother leaves their little boy? I’m just looking out for you, Del. We have to stick together out here.’
I won’t listen to this woman. Stephanie is a good mother. It’s me that’s in the wrong. ‘I am sticking together, Cora, with my community. We’re all living in the same town. We’re all residents here.’
‘Of course, of course. Stay, have a drink with us,’ she says, pulling out a chair. ‘I can see you’re upset.’
I shake my head. ‘Sorry, I have to go. Sorry to have interrupted your coffee.’
‘Call me if you want a get-together,’ she calls after me, and I find myself rolling my eyes.
We pass the clearing where the few people there raise a hand and wish me a good day.
‘How come they all know you?’ Rhi asks.
‘Um, I’m not really sure,’ I say. ‘I did leave them a plate of biscuits once … Come, let’s go home. We’ll wait for Maman there,’ I say to Tomas.
‘Maman?’ he says. His mouth turns down and tears fall. I hope Henri is right and she comes home soon.
THIRTY-ONE
That night, I lie awake, Ralph at my feet, listening to Tomas sleeping and calling for Maman. I have no idea what to do when he wakes, other than sing him the song my mum used to sing to me. I’m just winging it, like the rest of my life right now. And when I’m not soothing Tomas or worrying about where Stephanie might be and how she must be missing her little one, my thoughts flick to Fabien. I remember how he looked at me when I was hugging Henri. What was the expression in his eyes? I felt as if he was on one side of the river and I was on the other, and although he was trying to tell me something, I couldn’t hear him because of the distance between us. Was it just a silly kiss? I don’t want to be his fling with an older woman …
Stephanie, where are you? I get up and walk to the window, looking for signs of light in the gypsy caravan. But there are none. I gaze up at the dark sky, scattered with stars, and hope she’s safe. I even find myself asking Mum to keep an eye on her, and trying to explain how Stephanie came into my life, how I feel responsible for the chaos I’ve caused but also how much I’ve come to care for her and Tomas.
Morning comes, and Tomas is up early, with the birds and the cockerel. I had just dropped off to sleep. He runs down to the kitchen, with Ralph protecting him on the stairs, then he’s out of the door and staring at the gypsy caravan, wanting to find Maman and tell her about his sleepover with Ralph. My heart plummets. Just for a moment, like Tomas, I’d hoped she would be back.
The bakery van turns up and I tell Simone that Stephanie is missing. She’s already heard and is keeping an eye open. She hands Tomas a pain au chocolat and refuses any money, wishes me luck and hopes Stephanie will be home soon.
We spend the day at Le Petit Mas, waiting. Rhi decides that she and Lou should start painting the bedrooms. I’m not sure that Lou has ever held a paintbrush. Only the ones she uses to put on her makeup.
I am going to put in the lavender plants, once I’ve made Henri’s desserts for the day. I get Tomas to stand on a chair next to me and throw the flour on to the work surface. I miss Stephanie being here, making me read out the recipe in French and correcting my pronunciation.
‘Non, répétez,’ she would say, sounding like a French schoolteacher. In return, I made her cook, like Mum used to do with me, showing her and overseeing her as she broke eggs into a bowl, missed and scooped up the egg as it ran over the work surface.
‘Merde!’ she would say, and I’d raise a disapproving eyebrow, telling her to relax when she cooks instead of worrying, and watching the pride on her face when she pulled out a tray from the oven. Biscuits and pastries made with lavender … and love.
Tomas and I make basic shortbread for Henri. I can’t be more adventurous, not with Stephanie missing. Looks like we’re back where we started, only worse off, with both of us more miserable than we were before we met, both wishing for things in our hearts and losing them. What will happen if Stephanie, God forbid, doesn’t come back? What will happen to Tomas? I scoop him up and hurry into town, leaving Ralph behind. He flumps, dejected, on to the cool tiled floor.
‘Henri?’ The bistro is still closed when I get there. I knock on the glass of the door, with its dark-wood surround, and try to look in through the window, which is half obscured with French lace. ‘Henri?’ I shout up at the windows above the bistro, the shutters still closed. ‘Henri?’ I call again, sliding the box of biscuits on to an outside table that, unusually, wasn’t put away when he closed last night.
The shutters open. ‘Oui, j’arrive!’ he calls.
I breathe a sigh of relief.
‘Sorry, I slept over,’ he says, rubbing his hair and his unshaven face.
‘Overslept!’ I manage to smile.
‘Yes, yes!’
‘I brought the biscuits. I hope they’re okay. Is there any news?’
‘The customers love the biscuits, with café and ice cream. Do you think you could try lavender ice cream?’ he asks.
‘Of course,’ I say, not thinking about ice cream at all. Within no time he’s dressed and opening the front door.
‘I’ve seen Stephanie,’ he says.
‘Oh, thank God!’ My body feels as if all the air has been let out of it and wants to collapse in a heap on the floor. ‘Where is she? Is she coming home?’
He holds up a hand. ‘Give her time. She’s angry and hurt, but she’s safe,’ he says. ‘She’ll be missing the comfort of her own bed and this little one very soon.’ He kisses Tomas’s hand.
‘Thank you, Henri,’ I say. ‘Please tell her I’m sorry. And tell her how much Tomas is missing his maman. He needs her. Please tell her to come home.�
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He puts a hand on my shoulder. ‘Go home. Wait for her,’ he says, and coughs. ‘Summer cold!’ he mutters, then turns into the restaurant and opens the blinds, ready for business.
I walk back up the cobbled street and find myself heading in the direction of the brocante, wondering whether to pop in on Fabien, share the news that Stephanie is alive, but not home yet. I look at the open gates – but what can I say? She’s still gone. And whatever happened between me and him had a part in making her leave. I have to stay away and, with all my strength, I turn, catching a glimpse of him as I do, and walk towards the river, feeling the divide between us growing wider.
The sun is hot now. I’m desperate to get back to the cool of the house. I walk along the shade of the riverbank, past the clearing, but there’s only one person there, sitting under the tree. I recognize him. He’s here more often than not. He has the long beard and long hair. He nods as I pass, watching me go. Tomas is chasing butterflies.
Back at Le Petit Mas, Rhi and Lou are sitting outside the kitchen, with glasses of rosé in their hands, which are covered with white paint.
‘To be honest, we weren’t as good at painting as we thought we might be!’ says Rhi, after I’ve told them the news about Stephanie. They lead me upstairs like guilty children.
‘I don’t know how all these TV programmes make it look so easy!’ says Lou. ‘You’d think anyone could buy a château and pick up a paintbrush …’
We stand in the doorway of the room Lou has been sleeping in and they’ve been painting. To be honest …
‘It looks dreadful!’ I say. We wince, then start to laugh, a release, and find we can’t stop. Tomas joins in, then stands on the paint tin’s lid and walks white footprints across the floor.
‘You can see all the cracks still!’ says Rhi.
‘I like the cracks,’ I say. ‘They add character.’
‘Isn’t that where the light comes in?’ asks Lou.
She’s probably right. It’s going to be a while before this place could ever be ready for B & B guests. Anyway, right now, I like it being just us. ‘It makes it what it is, cracks and all.’