Page 40 of The Strawberry Thief
I took my time at the till, allowing the scent of my new batch of chocolate to filter through from the kitchen. Freshly groundCriollobeans; a dash of black pepper; a pinch of salt; then tamarind, vanilla and a generous measure of Armagnac.
‘Nice of you to befriend Yannick,’ I said. ‘Rosette seems to like him. Pity about his mother, of course, but he can’t be held responsible.’
Reynaud gave a guilty grin, which made him look surprisingly young. ‘I don’t like to speak ill of anyone—’
‘Oh, do, Reynaud.Pleasedo.’
He said: ‘It does me no credit, of course. But people like Michèle Montour bring out the very worst in me. Do you know, she actually came to my house to demand Narcisse’s confession? And when I quite naturally refused—’ He broke off the end of the sentence, and I wondered what he had meant to say.
‘I can believe it,’ I said with a smile. ‘She’s been trying to buy Rosette’s wood. She offered me ten thousand euros. Then, when I refused, she threatened to contest the will.’
‘She told me that, too,’ admitted Reynaud.
‘Perhaps you should have a word with Ying,’ I said. ‘You know, the solicitor? And when you do –’ I opened the door to the kitchen, allowing the scent ofcacaoto flow through ‘– you might just ask her about the new shop.’
‘The new shop?’ Reynaud’s eyes had already moved towards the half-open kitchen door. The volatile scent ofcacao, sharpened by alcohol and spice, was tantalizing.
‘The new tattooist’s shop,’ I said. ‘I assume the Montours let it out. Pity they didn’t consider the needs of the community, rather than just letting the place out to the first person who came along.’
He nodded, his eyes still on the kitchen door. ‘Michèle says she was led to believe that she was letting it out to a local artist.’
‘That doesn’t surprise me at all,’ I said. ‘She probably knew she wouldn’t get the lease if she told them the truth. Perhaps she has a history with her previous landlord. And now she’s encouraging children to hang about the place,’ I went on. ‘No wonder people are talking.’
‘Are they?’ Reynaud looked vaguely alarmed. The scent ofxocoatlwas almost overwhelming now.
‘And you must be disappointed,’ I said. ‘After all the work you’ve done to bring the two halves of the village together, this must really concern you. Quite apart from the outrage from the more old-fashioned of our villagers, a tattooist’s in the square is more than likely to cause another rift between us and the Muslim community.’
I was being less than subtle, I knew. But the scent of the bean was at its strongest now, and I wanted to sow what seeds I could before its charm began to wane.
‘What is that you’re making?’ he said. ‘It smells so different. So strange.’
I smiled. ‘It’s a new recipe. I’m hoping to perfect it by Easter.’
He shook his head as if to clear it from unpleasant dreams. ‘I’ll look forward to trying it then,’ he said.
I handed him his change. ‘Come again soon.’
‘I will. Thank you, Vianne.’
And then he was gone, purposefully across the square, where the blossom from the almond tree was already starting to fall like snow.
6
Friday, March 24
Mimi stayed in the bedroom all night. I heard her crying to get out, in a voice like a stray cat. Tante Anna ignored her, and so did I – at least until Tante Anna had gone to bed, after which I crept to the bedroom door and tried to comfort Mimi.
At first I couldn’t make her hear me. She was making too much noise. But then I thought of pushing a note underneath the door – Mimi couldn’t read, of course, but I knew she would see the note, and maybe come to investigate. And so I drew a picture of myself, in pyjamas, sitting outside the bedroom door, with Mimi on the other side, and Tante Anna, asleep in bed, and pushed the picture under the door as far as I could send it.
Mimi stopped crying. I heard the sound of her bare feet approaching on the polished floor. Then came the whispering sound of the note as she picked it up, and the little crowing sound she always used to make when she laughed.
‘Shh,’ I said. ‘It’s me, Narcisse. Can you hear me?’
The sound again.
‘I can’t let you out. The door’s locked, and Tante Anna has the key. But I’m here. You don’t need to cry.’
The crowing sound again, and a scuffle as she moved as close as she could to the door, and sat down on the polished floor.
