David behaved just as any grandmother or mother would wish. He was polite, charming but not too informal. When he and Grand-mère had finished their exchange he said, ‘Now where’s Jack got to?’
‘He’s in the music room,’ said Henri. ‘I’ve prepared a piece for you to hear.’
Alexandra noticed Henri didn’t look at anyone when he said this, unsure whom he needed to impress.
‘Maybe you’d like to play your piece now, Henri?’ said Alexandra encouragingly. He seemed very nervous and she still thought the sooner the performance was over, the better.
‘Yes,’ said Antoine. ‘Let’s go and hear him. Lucinda, I think you will be very impressed by our son.’
David excused himself and headed off to the kitchen. Félicité followed him there but Alexandra went to the music room. She’d overheard Henri playing but this was an opportunity to hear him properly. She decided to stay outside the door to listen, so his audience wasn’t too big.
Jack was at the piano. Everyone was sitting down, and Henri picked up his bow. Jack turned round to check he was ready when suddenly there was a gasp from Grand-mère. It became a cough, and she took out her handkerchief while Lucinda asked if she was all right.
From the doorway, Alexandra wondered if she should fetch water, but Grand-mère insisted she was perfectly all right, brushing her daughter’s concern away with irritation.
Alexandra happened to look at Jack and noticed that he had gone very pale and then red. Then he turned back and fiddled with his music.
‘Are you going to play or not, Henri?’ asked Grand-mère sharply.
‘We are very impatient to hear you play, Henri,’ said Antoine, smiling.
‘Yes,’ agreed Grand-mère. ‘I didn’t mean to sound so sharp.’
Félicité seemed surprised. Possibly her grandmother didn’t often apologise.
Jack started with an opening phrase at the piano, stumbling over the first couple of notes. He was obviously nervous too, Alexandra realised.
Then Henri began to play. The melancholic notes of Saint-Saëns filled the room. Alexandra stopped breathing. It was so beautiful, so moving, she felt time stand still. The boy was so absorbed in the music, at one with his instrument. His mother was staring at him as if she didn’t recognise him. Then she noticed Grand-mère. Tears were pouring down her face. Was she really ill? Alexandra waited until the last note had been played and then fled back to the kitchen, wondering if Grand-mère might need a doctor, or at least somewhere to lie down where it was cool.
Alexandra and David were outside, putting things on the table and fiddling with the table arrangements when Stéphie joined them. ‘Henri played really well but Grand-mère has gone all weird,’ she announced.
‘Oh no! Is she ill?’ asked Alexandra. She had arranged a sofa in the salon so Grand-mère could lie on it while they waited for the doctor, if he was summoned.
Maxime, who had followed Stéphanie, said, ‘Not really ill, I don’t think. She went pale and had to sit down. Lucinda is looking after her.’
‘I hope she liked Henri’s playing,’ said Alexandra. ‘It was so … moving.’
‘She wept. The Saint-Saëns is a very moving piece. It was afterwards, when Antoine introduced his teacher, that Penelope felt faint.’ Maxime sent Alexandra a reassuring smile.
‘Well, I hope she feels better soon,’ Alexandra went on. ‘Everyone’s gone to a lot of trouble over this lunch. I don’t want it spoilt by Grand-mère having the vapours.’
‘What does that mean?’ asked Stéphie.
Alexandra was very tempted to tell Stéphie she’d enlighten her later, but held firm: good nannies did not avoid questions. ‘It means people feeling a bit faint for no apparent reason. Now, have we got everything?’
‘We’d better have,’ said Félicité. ‘We couldn’t fit anything else on!’
Eventually the rest of the party came through from the music room and was seated; drinks were poured and toasts exchanged. It seemed to Alexandra to take forever. Everyone was talking about how beautifully Henri had played – everyone except Henri, who hunched down in his seat as if trying to pretend he wasn’t there.
Alexandra was at the far end, away from the honoured guests but near to David so she could help him replenish and change dishes frequently.
Things seemed to be going quite well up the other end of the table. Penelope was a bit quiet, as was Jack. Lucinda, on the other hand, seemed full of energy.
‘Of course, he’ll have to go to Paris to study. That talent will never be appreciated in this backwater of France,’ she was saying, her clear voice carrying down the table.
Félicité was thoughtful and Henri, once he’d got over his initial shyness, just seemed really hungry, ignoring his mother’s plans for his future. Stéphie was full of beans, delightedly telling everyone how she’d found some beautiful glasses in a cupboard and had helped wash and dry them. She was drinking water out of one now.
‘We have to hope they will all be intact when the meal is over,’ said Lucinda, removing the glass from Stéphie’s hand.
