L'amour Actually (43 page)

  'But I don't know anything about
rosé
,' I stammered, completely flabbergasted at the turn of events.

  'I seem to remember you know how to drink it though.' Tracey smiled at me. 'Look, are you up for it or what? I can afford to pay for whatever help you need to get you started. If you need to go on wine tasting courses and learn more about
rosé
, you can. Might even come on a few with you.'

  I laughed. 'You know you are supposed to spit it out.'

  'Pah! Spitting's for lightweights. We'll drink it and still be the last ones standing. Well?'

  I flung my arms round her and squeezed her so hard that she had to cry out for me to stop. A million different thoughts were careering round in my brain. Just when I thought the dream was over, I'd been thrown the most unexpected lifeline. Not only that, but a friend I thought I'd lost was back in my life again, and for good now. Everything had finally fallen into place. It had been a long time coming but I had got there in the end.

  'Tracey Tarrant, you are a bloody marvel. I'll even buy your new album.'

  'Too right you will.'

  'But I won't have to play it in the café will I?'

  Tracey laughed and signalled to the waiter. 'A bottle of your finest champagne,
monsieur
. We're celebrating.'

The sun shone down from a clear April sky. It was almost a year to the day since my arrival in France. I opened up the doors of the café and went outside to watch the little village slowly come to life. It was my favourite time of the day. I waved to Claudine, who was just putting out her sandwich board advertising today's specials. She had never left. Instead she had bought a franchise from a bigger supermarket chain and her once dingy store was now a bustling little monument to French gastronomy and local produce. It had taken a threat to sell the shop to developers to turn it into flats to make the good people of Rocamour realise how important their local shop was. Next to the supermarket, a new arrival in the village had opened a little gift shop. Valérie, the owner, called out
'bonjour'
as she unlocked her shop and I called back at her to come over for a coffee later.

  I started to wipe down the new spotty oilcloths that adorned each table and arrange the little white jugs of wild flowers, putting the chairs straight as I went. Finally, it was the moment to unfurl the awning. I wound it down and slowly the words came into view. La Vie en Rosé. Tracey had been right. The locals didn't get it, assuming that it was just a misprint by the foreigners that now ran the café, but we didn't care. We had spent time trawling round the local vineyards sourcing wines for our stock. I wasn't an expert by any means but I knew what I liked and hopefully our guests would like them too.

  'Morning,' said Jack, coming out of the kitchen wiping his hands on his apron. 'Here's the menu for today.'

  I looked at it. 'It all sounds delicious, chef.' We were fully booked for lunch so it was going to be busy.

  I swept the terrace, then, when I was finally happy that everything was in order, I stood back and looked around me with a growing sense of pride. The café was unrecognisable from the place it had been before. The old tables and interior had gone to be replaced by shiny bistro tables and lashings of Farrow and Ball paint, imported at vast expense from Paris. It was probably more of an English person's view of a French café but every time I went inside, I loved the way the light reflected around the room on the antique furniture that Tracey and I had sourced at various
brocantes
over the past few months. Tracey, despite her Essex roots (and my preconceptions), turned out to have a good eye for furniture. My phone beeped and I took it out of my pocket. It was a text from Tracey.

'Lots of love and luck on your first day of trading. Trace and Nate xxxx'

I smiled and quickly texted back a thank you.

  Basil rubbed around my legs and I picked him up and buried my face in his fur. 'It's just the two of us now.'

  He purred and rubbed his head on my cheek. I looked around me. Everything was ready. Jack came out of the kitchen, beaming from ear to ear.

  'Ready boss?' he asked, winking at me.

  'I like the sound of that. And yes, I'm ready.'

  'Right, we have twenty covers for lunch and another twenty booked for this evening.'

  'Fabulous. Good old Chummy calling in the troops.' I think she had press-ganged everyone she knew into booking a table for our opening day.

  Jack went back into the kitchen and I sat down at a table to take a quick breather before the lunchtime rush started. Stéphane and Claire were busy behind the bar and enjoying the prospect of helping me get the café up and running again. They had been absolute stars, cheerfully imparting their wealth of knowledge of the business, genuinely delighted that the café was going to stay open. Who'd have thought, when I had lunch here on my first day in France, that I would one day end up running it. I had set out on this journey full of hope, enthusiasm and a healthy dose of naivety. Now, a year later, I had found love and lost it, discovered strengths I didn't know I had and learned more about myself than I could possibly have dreamed of. Best of all, I had found my place in this little rural community that had stolen my heart.

  'Hello, you,' called a voice I hadn't heard in a while. I waved to Sam and she waved back enthusiastically.

  'Sam, how lovely!'

  She kissed me on both cheeks and sat down, taking out a notebook and pen. She'd called me to suggest writing a review of the new café. Basil wound himself around her ankles, purring loudly. Bending down to stroke him, she smiled at me and said to him quietly, 'You're living dangerously. Don't you know her history?'

  'Stop,' I chided her playfully. 'Seriously, I didn't think your boss would let you come today.'

  'Nothing like a bit of notoriety to sell papers,' she said, laughing and picking up her pen. Right,
mademoiselle la patronne
, tell me your story.'

There are so many people I want to thank that this is going to sound more like an Oscar acceptance speech.

  Firstly, I'd like to thank everyone at Summersdale and beyond, especially Jen, Abi, Abbie and Lucy for taking on this novice writer and leading me through the publishing journey with such enthusiasm and kindness. It has been a thoroughly enjoyable experience.

  I'd also like to thank all my friends in the UK and France for all their support and encouragement and especially to Victoria Butcher who came up with the fabulous title. My children, to whom this book is dedicated, who put-up with half empty lunchboxes, un-ironed school uniforms and ready meals while I toiled over my laptop for what must have seemed like forever. I have to thank my parents, who encouraged me to start my blog in France, from which this book grew, and nagged me to write my experiences down, even if it was only meant to be for posterity. And I can't forget my lovely friend, neighbour and photographer extraordinaire, Christo Nicolle for the lovely publicity photos he took.

  And finally, to everyone who buys or reads this book. If it makes you smile at least once I'll have done my job. Thank you.

Melanie has loved writing since she was big enough to hold a pencil. The advent of the blog gave her an outlet for her creativity and somewhere to tell the rather plentiful funny stories about her life and the many adventures she has had. Parts of her blog about her life in France were reprinted in the
'Femail'
section of the
Daily Mail
in 2009.

  She is a serial mover, having now moved over twenty times in her life including spells in Bahrain, Ireland, Cyprus, Portugal and most recently, France, where she spent five years trying to understand the intricacies of the French bureaucratic system – and largely failing. After a career that included magazine publishing, Arts funding, celebrity PR, product placement and a brief stint as an air stewardess, she now lives in Wiltshire where she is an expert on the location of any cow in the county (and sheep and pigs too).

  Melanie raises Orpington hens, has two amazing children, a lovely husband, a deaf cat with odd-coloured eyes, his very needy brother and the world's stupidest Lurcher puppy.

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