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‘I know, Mum.’ Flora smiled.
36
Six months later
The knock on the door brought Mack downstairs. It was half an hour before opening time, but someone had been knocking for a while. He walked across the shop and undid the lock on the door.
‘Colin, you’re keen.’
‘Morning, Mack. I’m sorry to make you open up early, but I wanted to get these to you whilst they were still warm.’ Colin, resplendent in camel, held up a tin. With a flourish he opened one corner. ‘Smell that.’
Mack did as he was told, the smell of warm cheese and pastry escaping as Colin held the lid up for a few seconds. ‘Oh, my goodness, you made gougères.’
Colin looked fit to burst. ‘I did. And let me tell you, there is a real art to making them.’ He explained, in detail, how his first batch hadn’t been up to scratch, his second an improvement but by no means perfect. ‘But this, my third batch, I’m pleased to say, is very good indeed.’ He gave the tin to Mack. ‘These are for you, for the party later.’
‘Oh, Colin, you didn’t have to do that.’
‘But how could I not? It’s your one-year anniversary since you relaunched the shop! How many have you got coming?’
Mack shuffled back to the counter and placed the box gently on top. ‘Flora and Johnny have organised the guest list so I’m not absolutely sure. You know, friends and family, some of our regulars, the usual suspects. It should be fun.’
‘Well, let me know if there’s anything else I can do to help. You know I’m always happy to top up glasses.’
‘I know you are, thank you, Colin. See you later, then. I think we’ve said six o’clock.’ He glanced outside. ‘If it stays like this, we’ll be able to be outside.’
‘Fingers crossed.’ Colin gestured to Mack, crossing his fingers on both hands. ‘See you later.’
Mack went to put the lock on again when Flora appeared. He opened the door. ‘Why’s everyone so early today? You just missed Colin.’
‘Oh, no, did I? Is he coming tonight?’
‘Of course, and he made these.’ Mack pointed to the counter.
Flora went over and picked up the lid, peering inside. ‘Oh, my goodness, these are my favourites!’ She reached in to take one, popping it into her mouth in one go. The flavour of warm Gruyère cheese and soft choux pastry filled her mouth, making her almost weep with joy.
‘Are they good?’
‘Have you not had one?’ She offered the now open tin to him. ‘You have to have one now, whilst they’re still warm.’
He took one and did the same, nodding at Flora as he chewed. ‘So good.’
‘Would it be wrong, Mack, to have a very small glass of something bubbly, just us two, whilst we polish off a few more of these?’
‘I have just the thing.’ Mack went to the fridge in the back, taking out a bottle. He removed the stopper. ‘We opened this yesterday. It’s new from a small grower near Avize. It’s incredible.’ He poured out two small glasses of champagne and took them back over to the counter.
Flora was now perched on the stool behind, half a dozen of the tiny cheese-sprinkled gems in front of her. She took the glass, lifted it to her nose and took a long sniff, the scent of freshly popped toast enough to make her mouth start watering.
Mack raised his glass to hers. ‘Here’s to us, Flora. Look what we did.’
She smiled back at him. ‘Here’s to you, Mack. Thank you for making me understand…’ Flora swept her gaze across the shop, searching for the right words, ‘… that life goes on.’
They clinked their glasses and for the time it took for them to drink a few sips of champagne, nothing else mattered.
* * *
Just after six that evening the shop started to fill with family and friends, the party soon spilling out into the courtyard. The warm summer air carried the scent of wisteria, and music drifted from the old record player in the corner, set up by Mack with Pip and Tom in charge of changing the record from time to time. Flora and Johnny did the rounds carrying glasses of perfectly chilled pale Provence rosé, pressing them into their guests’ hands.
Flora’s parents had arrived early to help them set up. She watched as they laid out glasses, her mother unable to help herself then from doing a little emergency weeding in the beds in the courtyard. They looked comfortable together again, Flora noted. She’d never spoken about the affair with either of them again – and hoped she’d never have to. Her father had had a lucky escape, so far as she was concerned, but more than that, Flora was surprised to discover that she admired her mother for refusing to give up. She wasn’t sure she’d have been able to do the same.
