“I’m sorry,” I said, unsure whether this would work or not. “That’s not what I meant…” I knelt down. “You know how ill she is?”
She glanced up. “Thierry said she was sick, but he’s so happy to see her, he’s like a little boy. He’s spent the last week doing his physiotherapy exercises, after he’d told his doctor he absolutely wouldn’t do them. He’s been eating veg and making plans and…I haven’t seen him so alive in a long time.” She looked up at me. “He’s going to leave me.”
“Of course he’s not going to leave you,” I said, thinking privately that if he ever was, her genuine bad temper would have driven him away a long time ago.
“Listen to me,” I said, sitting down next to her on the curb. “You know and I know that Thierry is an optimist, yes?”
She laughed a tiny bit. “You could say that.”
“Doesn’t really like facing life’s difficulties.”
“He does not,” she said. “Like his own blasted belly.”
I smiled at that too. “You have to know,” I said, “Claire is really sick. Really, really sick. She shouldn’t be here. She should be in a hospital.”
The reality hit me.
“No,” I said slowly. Claire hadn’t said anything; the true state of her health was between her and her doctor. But gradually I realized what I was saying was true, took in the full enormity of it.
“No,” I repeated. “She shouldn’t be in a hospital. She should be in a hospice.”
I looked at Alice to make sure she realized the importance of what I was saying, although it was for myself as much as her. “Alice, coming here…this is the last thing Claire is ever going to do. Do you realize that? She’s going to go back to the UK, and then…”
I hated to say it and bit my lip.
“And then she is going to die,” I said.
Alice’s eyes went wide.
“Really?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Oh God,” said Alice. “Oh God.”
She fell silent, obviously thinking about how recently she had nearly lost Thierry.
“He never told me,” she said.
“He may not know. She’s keeping it quiet,” I said.
“Even if he did, he would pretend it wasn’t happening,” said Alice and we both smiled.
We sat a while longer, watching Benoît lump up over the arch of the street.
“So,” I said eventually.
“So just let them get on with it,” she said ungracefully. “Is that what you want me to say? Butt out, Alice?”
I thought about it. “Yes,” I said. “But not for long. He is yours, I think. Don’t you?”
She half-smiled. “I doubt anyone else would put up with him.”
I smiled at that as she headed back to the van.
“That goes double for his son by the way,” she shouted, but I pretended not to hear her.
Frédéric arrived too, kicking away his cigarette and petting Nelson Eddy the dog.
“Good day,” he said. “Ready for a full day’s work?”
I watched as the grille rattled up. “Sure,” I said.
By 8:00 a.m., I was completely hazy with tiredness, and we’d already had to throw away two full trays of milk chocolate oranges because I’d overcreamed them and they tasted like chocolate yogurt. Benoît was muttering, and Frédéric was looking very agitated and asking me what Alice had said, which of course I didn’t repeat. For some reason, I had promised to gen up on hazelnuts over the holiday. Of course I’d done nothing of the sort, but with le tout Paris aware that we were reopening today, it was a bit too late to start. I halfheartedly started roasting the nuts, Frédéric coming fussily over my shoulder to pull out the green ones. Then I turned around too quickly when he startled me and knocked the second copper vat so it sputtered and started spitting out chocolate all over the floor, which I then skidded in and got a flashback so quickly I burst into tears. Frédéric did his best to be sympathetic, but I could tell it was only making him more agitated, and Benoît muttered something to himself along the lines of how he’d never had a woman in the kitchen before and this was absolutely why, when suddenly I heard a noise on the roof of the greenhouse.
Nobody could get back there without going through the shop. All three of us jumped. Someone was crouching on the roof! The shadow was plain above us, an ominous mass above our heads.
“Merde,” said Frédéric, jumping back to the sink and grabbing the huge knife we used to chop melon and pineapple.
“Who’s there?” I shouted, my voice quivering. There was no response. I was glad the boys were there. We moved toward the window. A large dark shape hung there, ominously, then it moved. Suddenly, with a slump and an enormous noise, it jumped down into the courtyard beyond. In a second, Benoît had opened the back door and we’d all piled out on top of the crouching figure.
“AARGH! ARGH! STOP IT! GERROF!” it shouted, and I realized it was Laurent.
“Stop it, stop it, everyone,” I said, standing back.
“I can’t believe you’re attacking me again,” said Laurent, shaking himself off.
“Try not breaking and entering into our workshop then,” I said, breathless and annoyed. “What the hell were you doing up there?”
“Nobody would answer the front door. What the hell were you doing in here?”
Nobody grassed me up for my noisy boo-hooing, fortunately. Laurent looked at me, then glanced at the floor.
“Uhm,” he said, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, after last night. I clammed up. It was rude.”
“I’m used to you being weird,” I said unhappily.
“I know,” he said. He sighed, then suddenly switched to English. “This is hard…I am trying, Anna.”
“I’m trying to get done for assault and battery,” I said, but the joke was lost on him.
“Frédéric, can you get us two coffees?” he said. Frédéric, amazingly, went and did it without complaining. Benoît, muttering, went back to mop up the workshop. I shivered a little; it was chilly out here in the little courtyard that got no sun. We accepted Frédéric’s coffee with thanks. I glanced at the clock, a little worried.