Page 71 of Vianne
Today, the article came out in Le Petit Marseillais . I awoke to the sound of the telephone ringing from the front of the shop. I got up and ran to answer it. The ringing stopped before I could reach it, but a few seconds later, the phone rang again.
‘Good morning. Xocolatl?’
‘This is Chloe from Le Vert Galant. I’d like to place an order.’
‘Er, yes. Of course. How did you hear about us?’
‘I saw the piece in the paper.’
‘Just one moment, madame .’ I took down her details on the pad and promised Guy would get back to her.
Le Vert Galant is a hotel and golf club ten minutes’ drive from the Vieux Port.
They often host corporate gatherings, and wanted some gifts for their special guests.
In this case, twenty gift boxes and an assortment of chocolates and petits fours for a dinner on 22 December.
An excellent start to the season, and just what Guy was hoping for.
I couldn’t wait to tell him, and to read the article.
The fact that orders are coming in on the back of the newspaper piece – less than two weeks before our grand opening – seems to him almost too good to be true.
But all we needed to succeed was a little more visibility. Now we have that, things will change.
I washed and dressed, then went downstairs, where Guy was making coffee. There was a pile of fresh croissants on the table, along with some fruit, and a silver pot of hot chocolate. Stéphane was outside, feeding the cat, and Mahmed was feeding boxes of beans into the mechanical grinder.
‘Hear that, o ye of little faith?’ called Guy to Mahmed, when I told him the news. ‘We have our first order! Le Vert Galant wants our chocolates!’
‘Great,’ said Mahmed from the back room. ‘Believe it when we see the cash.’
Guy laughed. ‘Come in, and have some coffee. I’ll get the paper. Let’s read what it says.’
Le Petit Marseillais is a free tabloid, consisting mostly of local news, adverts and human interest stories. Our story is there on the lower front page, under the appointment of a new mayor and a stabbing down by the docks:
New Chocolaterie in Le Panier
Did anyone say chocolate? Ghislain Lacarrière and his partner Sylviane are passionate about the stuff.
All kinds of delicious confections from cacao beans from the forests of West Africa and Peru.
Why is their process different? Lacarrière says: ‘We make all our chocolate from bean to bar, which ensures its quality. And we’ll be opening to the public on 4 December, with a preview of our Christmas stock, and the chance to sample creations like Nipples of Venus, Sea Salt Truffles and Montezuma’s Revenge.
’ As a gesture of goodwill, Lacarrière is offering 40 per cent off every order he receives before then.
And the opening of a new boutique should create a welcome boost for the community, which has suffered a decline in recent years.
But can a chichi chocolate shop survive alongside the old bistrots of the Vieux Quartier?
And will the curse of Allée du Pieu – a curse that locals believe caused the fire that ended the previous business – turn out to be a blessing?
The piece is flanked by the shop’s name and contact details, plus a photograph of Guy and me, taken inside the shop. I am wearing a sweater and jeans, my hair loose over my shoulders. Guy has his arm around me, smiling at the camera.
‘You look like a couple,’ said Stéphane, reading over my shoulder. ‘ And they got your names wrong.’
‘And what’s this about the forty per cent?’ said Mahmed. ‘You never mentioned that to me.’
Guy shrugged. ‘It’s just for a week, man.
And look at our first order. It’s Le Vert Galant, Mahmed.
If they like what we do, they could end up being a regular customer.
Hotels serve chocolates all the time. After dinner; special guests; on the pillow every night.
Think of it as an investment in the future. ’
Mahmed seemed about to say something else, but was interrupted by the ringing of the phone. ‘Let me get that,’ said Guy. ‘Might be another order.’
Mahmed said nothing. His colours were bleak as a winter sky. I poured a cup of chocolate and took a croissant from the pile. ‘It’s only a week.’ I echoed Guy’s words. ‘And the orders are a good sign. It means the campaign is working.’
He gave me a sideways look. ‘You think? I think it means forty per cent less money than we were expecting. And I know that when you start off by giving discounts, it makes it much harder to persuade customers to pay full price.’
‘You could just try being happy for him,’ said Stéphane unexpectedly. ‘I mean, you could just try, for a change.’
Mahmed looked at him, surprised. ‘I’m sorry?’
Stéphane put down his coffee cup. His mild face looked surprisingly harsh. ‘I mean that he’s happy. He’s doing what he really loves, for the first time in his life. Let’s all just support him, instead of questioning everything.’
I braced myself for an outburst. Mahmed’s patience with Stéphane has never been especially great.
And recently he has been so withdrawn, sullen as a thundercloud.
But this time he simply shrugged and said: ‘Perhaps you’re right.
Let’s get the grand opening over with, and then we can think about the accounts. ’
And at that, he sat down at the table and poured himself some chocolate. ‘This is good,’ he told me, and smiled. At last , I thought. It’s working.