Chapters (79)
- COVER
- About the Author
- Also by Jo Thomas
- DEDICATION
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- FIFTY
- FIFTY-ONE
- FIFTY-TWO
- FIFTY-THREE
- FIFTY-FOUR
- FIFTY-FIVE
- FIFTY-SIX
- FIFTY-SEVEN
- FIFTY-EIGHT
- FIFTY-NINE
- SIXTY
- SIXTY-ONE
- SIXTY-TWO
- Epilogue
- Acknowledgements
- RECIPES
- Lavender shortbread
- Apricot jam sponge cake
- Lavender lamb
- READ MORE
- Prologue
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- THIS IS JUST THE BEGINNING
‘May I?’ I ask the girl, who is scowling at me. She thinks about it, then gives a curt nod. I take his crumby one.
‘Bonjour,’ I say. I waggle his chubby fingers and, again, can’t help smiling. ‘What’s his name?’
‘Tomas,’ she replies.
‘Bonjour, Tomas,’ I say. ‘I think I have something that belongs to you.’ I reach into my pocket and pull out the item that’s brought me here and hold it up, by the chewed ears. A soft, worn, light blue-and-white toy rabbit.
‘Monsieur Lapin!’ The girl’s face softens and she nearly smiles, but not quite. Tomas’s face erupts into joy and he kicks his legs happily into his mother’s side and reaches for his rabbit.
‘You dropped it, when you …’ I search for the right words. ‘When you left the market.’
‘When I stole from you. I’m sorry. I just wanted … It was for Tomas. There is not much money left after I pay for this place,’ she says. I wonder how anyone can charge money for this sweltering hell-hole. ‘He was sleeping, and I wanted to find something for him. Sometimes the stallholders are throwing things away. Sometimes … I … take.’ She lifts her chin again. ‘I’m not proud of it. I don’t take what I think the stallholders will mind losing. And your biscuits looked so good.’
I feel a ridiculous sense of pride.
‘And, let’s be honest, you had a lot left!’
She’s teasing me.
Suddenly I laugh. ‘I did!’
‘But they tasted really good,’ she says. ‘Tomas loves them.’
‘Well, Tomas, come by next week and I’ll give some to you,’ I say, holding his little hand, and he points again at Ralph, who gives a little bark of agreement. Tomas giggles into his mother’s neck and, once again, the sound echoes round the hole in my heart where I wish my own child had been.
‘Is it just you?’ I ask, in awe of how she’s managing to bring up a child in this place.
She nods. ‘Just me and Tomas.’ She’s letting me know that she and Tomas are just fine.
‘Okay,’ I say. There’s nothing more to be said or done here. I’ve returned the soft toy to its grateful owner and there is no way I’m going to reprimand her for the few biscuits she took. Next week, I’d love her and Tomas to come by so that I can give him some. I turn to go.
‘Merci. Thank you,’ says the girl, quickly and quietly. ‘And, again, I’m sorry I stole from you.’