‘With hot water,’ Stephanie says. ‘Like tea.’

Suddenly Tomas shrieks and we whirl round. He’s tripped and fallen. Fabien is closest and goes to scoop him up, then carries him back to Stephanie, saying soothing words, Tomas’s sobs settling to a sniffle.

‘You have a way with children,’ I say, focusing on Tomas, not the image of Fabien holding him.

‘I have many nephews and nieces,’ he says, and my heart squeezes at the sight of him comforting the little boy. ‘But I don’t see much of them. They live further north. Families are more separated than they used to be,’ he says, and repeats it in French for Serge, who nods in agreement. ‘Serge grew up with my grandfather. Schoolboys together. My grandfather had the brocante from his own father. I joined after school but lots of our families moved away to find cheaper houses.’ Serge is talking and pointing around the farm and the fields. He holds Tomas’s hand and talks to him like a grandfather would, making him smile. Perhaps it’s only me who doesn’t know how to comfort or speak to a child. Tomas has been living with me, but I’ve had little to do with him. I’m not a natural, like Fabien, Serge and Stephanie.

Serge tells Fabien his family, too, are living elsewhere. He’d like to see more of them now his wife has passed away. He has no one to take on the lavender farm after him.

‘Would you like some plants to take with you?’ Stephanie translates for me.

‘Me?’ I say, surprised.

‘Oui.’ Serge gestures to an area where some pots are sitting in a damp patch, having been recently watered.

‘I wouldn’t have a clue what to do with them. I’m not really a gardener …’

He picks up one of the plants, then leads us to the field where Tomas is soon helping him to plant the lavender. When they have finished, Serge sits up on his haunches. ‘Très simple!’ he says. ‘Like falling in love.’

‘Simple, like—’

‘Falling in love,’ I cut Fabien off. ‘If only love were that simple. Falling in love is simple. It’s staying in love that’s the hard part.’

‘Finding it and recognizing it can often be pretty hard too!’ Fabien laughs, and my stomach flutters.

‘You will know it,’ says Serge, and Stephanie translates. I’m presuming he’s thinking about his wife and missing her. ‘You feel it in here.’ He bangs his chest. ‘Love is like the lavender when you have it in your life. It brings peace when you have it.’

He struggles to his feet, his hips clearly painful. He walks stiffly towards the plants and picks a couple up. ‘Et maintenant …’