...and on her journey of self discovery she met many interesting people...
I haven't told you the story about Rose and the French waitress Bergamot.
Rose lived for some time in a cozy apartment overlooking the canal. When she moved in it was only partially furnished and didn't have pots or pans or any other kitchen utensils. One of the first things Rose did was to set up her cooking area, but as they say, "Rome wasn't built in a day", and it took a few days before she had everything just the way she wanted it.
On her first evening in her new flat, feeling hungry, she set off to find some nearby establishment where she could eat. She turned left when she came out the door of the building where she was making her new home and she walked along the waterside. After walking a few hundred yards and passing several little boutiques and quaint gift shops she began to think she should have gone in the other direction. She was turning on her heels when the evening breeze brought the sound of French Canadian singer Felix Le Clerc to her ears with the faint smell of fresh coffee on it's tail. She followed the sound and soon came to a restaurant whose doors were thrown open onto the banks of the canal. Climbing roses and wisteria hug from the eves and a small hedge of bay trees stood to either side. Rose was drawn inside, passed the white cast iron tables and chairs that were positioned in the open air, her eyes took a few moments to adjust to the dimmed light, which seemed to be coming mostly from a big old skylight in the ceiling.
First she saw her smile, broad and cheerful, with a quirky lift to one side of her mouth. Her eyes were almond shaped and lined with thick black lashes. Her hair was very dark too and loosely tied in a bun at the back of her head. "Bonjour, Madame" she greeted Rose, "I am Bergamot, how can I be helping you on this today?"
Rose smiled back at her. "I would like a table for one please. May I sit outside?"
"Of Course!" Bergamot lead Rose back outside and carried a menu with her.
Rose chose the "Pommes Dauphinoises" and Cabillaud aux Courgettes or sliced potatoes baked in a garlic cream sauce and Cod with courgettes (zucchini).
Bergamot was a wonderful waitress, quickly setting the table and bringing a basket of fresh bread. Each time she came to Rose's table the two women exchanged smiles. The food was delicious. Rose ate and enjoyed the scenery, the ducks paddling in the lush foliage that grew along the banks of the canal, a stray cat asleep on the roof and French music playing in the background. Rose was ready to order her coffee and Bergamot was there in an instant clearing the plates away. When she brought the coffee, she asked "Are you well Madame?" Rose was a little surprised and before she could answer Bergamot sat down on the chair opposite her. "You are worried about me?" the French waitress asked, her head was cocked to one side and her eyes were opened wide. Rose didn't understand. Finally Bergamot explained that she was feeling Rose was sad and was worried about her. They both laughed out loud at the way Bergamot had mixed up her pronouns.
Rose found herself telling Bergamot her life story. It was getting late into the evening and the restaurant was very quiet. Bergamot persuaded Rose to crack open a bottle of wine for herself to celebrate her breaking free from the chains of marriage. Rose sipped her wine as she watched Bergamot wait the last of the nights tables. Bergamot seemed so confident at her job, chatting to customers and making them laugh and feel at ease. Eventually she swept the floor after placing all the chairs upturned on the tables. The music played on and Rose was lulled into a trance. By the end of her shift Bergamot's hair had fallen out of its bun and was scattered across her face. It was so black that it blended almost perfectly into her black cotton work shirt, which by now was open at the neck and rolled up at the sleeves. Every few minutes, when she had a little time for a break she would come back a sit by Rose and tell her some funny story about a particular customer or tell her about some problems the chef was having in the kitchen. Her English really cracked Rose up, especially when she tried to curse, "he has a big head full of shit" she said about one leery man who had just left the restaurant having eaten his fill, Rose nearly fell off her chair laughing.
Once the doors of the restaurant were closed Bergamot opened another bottle of wine and invited Rose up to her bedsit which was above the restaurant. Rose thought she should be getting home, but then remembered that she had neither coffee pot nor coffee or a morsel of food for breakfast in her fridge. So in the end she happily agreed.
Half way through the second bottle of wine Rose started feeling dozy. She was sitting on Bergamot's big soft sofa with her shoes off and her legs curled up under her. Bergamot was showing her photographs of her family in France and telling her funny stories about her misspent youth. Bergamot had showered and changed and was wearing a natural off white linen shirt and khaki green linen slacks. She smelled like fresh oranges. Seeing how tired Rose was she offered her to stay the night, "will you like to stay on top of the night?" Rose corrected Bergamot and then they both fell around laughing. When Rose stopped laughing and wiped her eyes she realised that Bergamot had been staring at her. Bergamot's eyes were a gorgeous amber green colour and as Rose's eyes met hers she was sure she saw Bergamot's cheeks blush. Bergamot bit her lip and then she leaned in slowly and hesitantly kissed Rose on the lips. Rose was stunned at first but Bergamot pulled back a little and then leaned in to kiss her again, even more tenderly. Bergamot's lips were soft and full and Rose, not knowing if it was the wine or the heat of the evening, found herself responding to her warm sensual touch. Bergamot pulled Rose to her feet and led her to her bed where they lay with each other and made love. Rose had never caressed another woman's breasts until this night, and she found the sweetness of Bergamots skin filled her with desire. The taste and smell of wine and soft woman's' sex was the last thing in Rose's mind as she fell asleep that night. In the morning she woke up wrapped in strange black silk sheets and found Bergamot had already gone to work. There was a note on the table, "come down to the restaurant for a cup of coffee before you go home", that morning for the first time in her life Rose took cream in her morning coffee.
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