Page 66 of Vianne

I found no sign of Stéphane outside. He must have gone to fetch supplies.

Glancing into the decrepit hangar round the back of the shop, I could see that he must have been doing some bodywork on the van.

The air still smelt of hot metal and solder and primer paint, the van doors were open, but Stéphane was nowhere to be seen.

Old Madame Li, the grandmother of the family next door, was putting out rubbish at her back door.

More building debris, by the look of it, tied up in a black plastic bag.

She gave me a nod as I went past, but I thought she looked suspicious.

I remembered my gift of chocolates, thrown away unopened, and her granddaughter saying that Mahmed had reported them to the health inspector.

I was still not ready to believe that Mahmed had been responsible, but I could see why they might not be inclined to be friendly.

I smiled at the grandmother, and said: ‘The takeaway looks great now. When do you think you’ll reopen?’

She gave me a sharp look and shook her head. ‘ Ne comprends pas. ’

I made an expansive gesture, indicating the takeaway, the alley, the chocolaterie. ‘Everything’s coming together,’ I said. ‘Soon, we’ll be one of the most chichi parts of the Panier Quarter. Neon signs, arcades, a line of customers this long—’

I thought I saw a flicker of something like humour cross her face.

Her French might not be perfect, but I thought perhaps she understood me better than she would have me believe.

I smiled and drew a finger-sign across the palm of my left hand, sending a little carousel of lights tumbling against the wall.

A pretty . More than a pretty, in fact. A glimpse of things as they might be; a taste of possibility.

Madame Li seemed to pause, a ladder of colours climbing her face.

Imagine a neon sign, right there, a bowl of noodles in flashing red. Imagine the scent of roasted pork, and garlic, and sizzling vegetables. Imagine the customers crowding the street; faces rosy in the glow of many lights. Imagine the money coming in; the luck of the family turning.

Madame Li’s face opened up like a flower in a glass of tea. ‘Luck,’ she said.

I nodded. ‘Here. I made these for you.’

I pulled out one of my little sample boxes from my bag.

Green tea truffles, with darkest chocolate and fleur de sel : a flavour that reminds me somewhat of the rising tide in Normandy, where Maman and I spent a summer once, and where I ate crêpes wrapped in paper, with butter and fried sausages, while the waves crept closer and the gulls circled hopefully overhead.

Slowly, Madame Li took the box.

‘Try one,’ I said.

She took one, sniffed. ‘ Cha ,’ she said.

I nodded. ‘ Cha .’

She nibbled the edge of a truffle. I thought of the sea, and my mother, and the taste of crispy-edged crêpes , and the scent of the rising tide over the salt flats. Madame Li closed her eyes. I waited. Finally, she opened them again, and looked at me directly for the first time.

‘What do you think?’ I said.

She smiled. I thought she might have said something then, but just at that moment I saw Mahmed at the end of the alleyway.

His long hair had fallen loose over his face, and I thought he looked unsteady, as if he had been drinking.

That surprised me – I’ve never seen Mahmed drink more than a glass of wine with a meal.

A trail of colours flamed in his wake; lurid orange; garish green; angry, complicated red.

Madame Li vanished into the back of her shop as if she’d seen a hungry wolf.

I saw her peering out at us through a tiny window.

I said: ‘Mahmed, Guy was looking for you.’

Mahmed gave a kind of growl. ‘Something wrong?’

I explained about the spoilt batch.

‘ Heh . That figures,’ said Mahmed. ‘Something needs fixing. Ask Mahmed. Job needs doing. Ask Mahmed. Fair enough. I have to earn my keep somehow.’

‘You know it’s more than that.’

He shrugged. ‘If you say so.’

He walked by, hard-faced, towards the chocolaterie. I started to go after him, but something by the bins caught my eye: it was Pomponette, who had been missing since before Hallowe’en, looking as well-groomed, well-fed and content as if she’d never been lost at all.

‘ Pomponette! Where have you been?’

Pomponette sauntered up to me and nudged my ankle with her nose. I picked her up and stroked her. ‘Let’s get you back inside, shall we? Stéphane has been looking everywhere for you.’

The cat began to purr as I carried her back into the shop. Closing the door behind me, I thought I could still see Grandmother Li, watching from her window, her face as grey and crumpled as a tea ball out of water.