‘Shall we have this lunch in the garden?’ she suggested.
‘Oh yes. Why not? We have a lovely spell of weather. It’s always better with the children’s grandmother if we can make it less formal.’ He watched Alexandra as she inspected a bunch of grapes. ‘How did lessons go this morning?’
‘Well! If you go to the library you can read a part. David likes everyone to join in.’
‘Is that a tactful way of asking me to leave you to do your work in peace?’ The eyebrow lifted again, and the curl at one corner of his mouth was irresistible.
Alexandra nodded, trying to be serious, but she couldn’t help returning his smile.
‘Stéphie!’ said David the next day, after twenty-four hours of cooking and a certain amount of shopping. ‘The table looks absolutely ravishing! Like an Impressionist painting. You’ve done a terrific job.’
They were on the terrace, under an awning of vines, dappled with autumn sunlight. It did indeed look like a painting, thought Alexandra. She wished it could have been for a party with jolly guests, old friends, people she liked. As it was, the guests were mainly people who were critical and made the children tense, and, as she knew from personal experience, anxious people were never at their best.
Stéphie, who was unaffected by the anxiety troubling the rest of the household, beamed. ‘Alexandra helped.’
‘You did all the hard work, darling,’ said Alexandra.
‘Grand-mère won’t like the flowery cotton napkins from the market,’ said Félicité. ‘She only likes linen.’
Alexandra had thought she liked linen too until she’d realised she would have to wash it. She needed to talk to Antoine about buying a washing machine. The chateau had probably managed perfectly well without one when there were more staff, but while it was just her and a girl from the village – whom, blessedly, Antoine had hired to help her – there needed to be more mod cons.
‘I just thought a touch of colour would be nice,’ said Alexandra. ‘And those fabrics are a very Provençal thing, after all.’
Félicité and Stéphie looked at her, bemused, for a few seconds and then went back to inspecting the table. ‘Don’t forget water,’ said Félicité.
‘The flowers are so pretty,’ said Alexandra.
‘Yes and they don’t take up too much space,’ said David. ‘There’ll be so many dishes on the table, there’s hardly room for flowers. But those little posies are just perfect.’
‘Grand-mère will say they’re weeds,’ said Félicité.
‘And we’ll say there is no such thing as a weed, only a flower in the wrong place,’ said David primly.
Félicité gave a shout of laughter Alexandra hadn’t often heard. ‘Oh, please say that, David! I can’t wait to hear what Grand-mère says in reply!’
‘They look like proper flowers to me,’ said Alexandra, seeing that Stéphie was a little offended. She tried to think of some flower names. ‘That’s a fuchsia – and isn’t that pink daisy-like thing a cosmos? And those are definitely marigolds. They look lovely!’
‘You grandmother is a starchy type, I gather?’ said Jack, arriving with two large jugs of water in his hands. ‘Still, Henri’s practised his piece for hours. He’s really gifted on the cello. She’ll be impressed by that, if nothing else. He’s almost a prodigy.’
‘Our mother will want me to play,’ said Félicité with a sigh. ‘She was disappointed with me when I was five; she’ll be even more disappointed now I’m fifteen.’
Alexandra opened her mouth to say something sharp indicating that if you wanted your daughter to learn to play the piano you should stay around to teach her, but then shut it again. She and David had had a couple of conversations on the subject. He had said, ‘I know your parents left you, Lexi darling, but they didn’t have a choice. Lucinda, of course, did have a choice, but no one ever knows what’s going on in another relationship. We shouldn’t judge.’
‘I’d be delighted to give you piano lessons, Félicité,’ said Jack. ‘Any time. It’s just Henri’s so keen with his cello. But if you want to—’
‘No, thank you,’ said Félicité. ‘I don’t like playing the piano. I just don’t want my mother being disappointed.’
‘You do have a delightful singing voice,’ went on Jack. ‘There are more ways of being musical than playing the piano. David here plays the piano perfectly well, but he doesn’t have a musical bone in his body.’
‘Do you mind?’ said David. ‘That’s an outrageous thing to say! Now I must go and check on the food. We could put some of it out now if we keep it covered. Do we know if our guests are likely to be punctual?’
Alexandra was about to say she didn’t know when Félicité replied, ‘I expect my mother will be late. And she’ll come with Grand-mère so they’ll both be late.’
‘That’s fine,’ said David. ‘I wasn’t doing a soufflé but good to know I can let the daube just bubble away. It may be too hot to eat it anyway, in which case we’ll just have cold meat and salad now, and have the daube another time.’
Alexandra followed David back into the kitchen. ‘You’ve gone to so much trouble, David,’ Alexandra began, feeling guilty that David, who was here to teach, was doing so much of the cooking, which she felt she should be doing.
‘You know I love doing it, Lexi,’ David said. ‘I love all the amazing produce, and I’ve got the kitchen to work for me now, so it’s a joy! And I think this is going to be very difficult for everyone, particularly the children.’
