‘We must take the tape off the little horse when we get back,’ said Alexandra, in English. ‘And see if he’s mended now.’
‘He’s a girl!’ said Félicité crossly.
‘Is he? You can’t always tell with horses. What’s her name?’
‘Alice!’ said Félicité, obviously going for the first name that came into her head. ‘And I noticed at lunch that you suddenly spoke very good French for an English nanny!’ She was accusatory now.
‘I know! It’s amazing how quickly one picks up the language when you’re actually living in the country,’ said Alexandra.
Félicité suddenly developed an interest in the passing hedge, but Alexandra could tell that she was smiling.
When they got home Félicité and Stéphie rushed up to get Alice the horse. Everyone went to the kitchen and while Henri got the range going, Alexandra peeled off the sticking plaster.
‘There we are,’ she said. ‘That’s quite a nice repair, although I say so myself.’
‘It’s OK,’ said Félicité, although Alexandra could see she was pleased.
‘It’s wonderful!’ said Stéphie, and flung her arms round Alexandra’s neck and hugged her. ‘Thank you!’
Alexandra suddenly felt quite tearful.
Chapter Six
The next few days went well and Alexandra was beginning to feel another three weeks or so would be fine. She hadn’t heard back from her relatives to say she had to rush to Switzerland and she found she enjoyed the pace of French provincial life. The only slightly worrying thing was that Maxime had telephoned to say that the nanny who was looking after her mother would not be returning. That, however, Alexandra decided, was a problem for Antoine to deal with; she couldn’t help.
She was in the kitchen writing labels for some pear jam she had made to use up the quantities of fruit she and the children had picked the previous day. Her feeling was, as a nanny, she should get her charges to do practical, outdoor things when she wasn’t reading with Stéphie or looking in the library for things she thought Félicité and Henri might like. She was just doing this last task, feeling pleasantly domestic, when the loud jangle of the doorbell followed by a volley of deep, terrifying barks from Milou broke the silence.
She looked at Félicité to see if she knew who it might be. She shrugged.
‘No one ever calls round,’ said Henri. ‘We’re too far away from other people.’
‘Not far enough, obviously,’ said Alexandra, putting down her pen. She was wearing one of the off-the-shoulder dresses in a bright print that she’d bought at the market and had tied up her hair in the sash that had come with it. A glance in one of the mirrors she passed showed a peasant in festival clothes – the opposite of the sophisticated young woman she had been in London. She’d also gained a bit of tan from being outside watching Henri and Stéphie climb trees.
So she was put out to be confronted by the two extremely elegant and formal women who had asked her who she was at the market. Although she was wearing her pearls, the real ones as opposed to a long string of fat, fake ones which had gone with her other luggage to Switzerland, she still felt a bit like a farm hand, not a proper nanny.
‘Can I help you?’ she asked politely in French.
‘May we come in?’ asked Grand-mère, speaking English.
Alexandra didn’t think she could say no so she opened the door wider. She was ushering them into a salon – a room that would have been lovely had it been used more frequently – when Henri appeared. Stéphie wasn’t far behind and then came Félicité.
‘Children,’ said Grand-mère. ‘I’m pleased to see you.’
Alexandra wanted to get them all settled so moved ahead and opened the French windows so that light filled one end of the room.
‘Do please sit down.’ She gestured towards the sofa and chairs. ‘Can I get you some refreshment?’ She continued in English. ‘Would you like coffee? Tea? A cordial of some kind?’ What did you offer middle-aged women at this time of day, which she guessed (the charming French timepiece on the mantel had stopped) was late morning.
‘A glass of wine would be acceptable,’ said Grand-mère.
Alexandra flew along the passage to the kitchen, grateful that she’d found a few wicker-covered demijohns filled with rosé in a larder. Henri had explained this wine was produced on the estate and just for people who lived there. She found a jug and filled it. There were good glasses in a cupboard in the salon, which she hoped weren’t too dusty. She found a tray and added a jug of water; she was fairly sure Félicité would ask for wine and she wanted to be able to dilute it. Possibly Henri, too. She had let them have well-watered wine a couple of times and she was aware Félicité might well try to show her up as a bad nanny.
When she arrived back in the salon, Félicité, Henri and Stéphie were sitting in a row opposite the two women. Alexandra realised she didn’t know either of their names and hoped it wouldn’t matter. One of the benefits of English was that you could go quite a long time without ever mentioning someone’s name. They didn’t know her name either, she assumed.
The wine-pouring seemed to take a lifetime and while it was performed no one spoke until Félicité said, ‘Can I have some?’
Alexandra put an inch of wine in the bottom of a glass and filled it with water. ‘Here you are.’
‘Mademoiselle,’ said Grand-mère imperiously. ‘Do please sit down. We need to consider your position here.’
