‘Hello,’ she said. ‘I hope you don’t mind me letting myself in. I came in via the terrace. I’ve brought round some prospectuses for Antoine to look at. Schools for Félicité and Henri,’ she clarified.
There were a couple of shocked seconds before Alexandra and David sprang into life.
‘Would you like some tea?’ said Alexandra, hoping Lucinda would say no. David had brought some from England but it wouldn’t last forever.
‘Oh – no, thank you,’ said Lucinda. ‘But some hot water with a slice of lemon would be lovely.’
‘What about a piece of cake?’ asked David, a knife hovering over it.
‘I never eat cake,’ said Lucinda looking surprised to have been offered it. ‘Did you make it, David? Why?’
‘I made it,’ said Alexandra, trying to sound insouciant. ‘I felt like making one and I thought the children might like it.’
‘Oh, please don’t give it to Félicité! She’s all right now but if she got fat, her life would be a misery.’ Lucinda smiled quickly. ‘Well, not a misery perhaps, stuck here in the country where no one will see her, but girls at boarding school can be very cruel.’
‘So why would you send her to one, then?’ Alexandra realised too late that she was just the nanny and wasn’t paid to have opinions.
‘She’s got to be educated! And not all the girls she’ll meet will be bitches.’
Alexandra went to find a lemon for Lucinda’s hot drink. She might not like her, but she felt that Lucinda did have a point. It was important that Félicité had a proper education.
Alexandra’s cake was greeted far more enthusiastically by Antoine and the children, who saw it before they saw Lucinda, who was sitting impatiently at the table.
‘Cake!’ said Henri. ‘I love cake!’
‘You live in a country where they produce the most beautiful gateaux,’ said Antoine. ‘Why the excitement about something that looks quite a plain confection to me?’
‘In France we have gateaux; this is cake. They’re not the same,’ said Henri. ‘Grand-mère makes us English cake sometimes.’
‘Tsk,’ said Lucinda. ‘I must ask her not to do that. It’ll make you fat.’
‘Can I have some, Lexi?’ asked Stéphie.
‘Of course.’ Alexandra picked up the knife that was ready. ‘What about you others? Antoine? It’s an English speciality. A Victoria jam sponge, as seen in the very best English homes.’ She had decided to overlook his remark about it being a plain-looking confection.
He laughed. ‘In which case, I would be honoured to try it.’
‘Do you call Alexandra Lexi now, Stéphie?’ asked Félicité, accepting the cake she was offered, in spite of the dark looks it produced from her mother.
‘Yes. She doesn’t mind,’ said Stéphie.
‘Can we all do it?’ asked Henri. ‘Alexandra is rather a long name.’
‘Phff!’ said Alexandra shrugging her shoulders. ‘Comme vous voulez, mes enfants,’ she said in French.
‘You get more Gallic every day,’ said David, very amused. ‘What have you children been up to today? Be prepared to write an essay about it tomorrow.’
‘We went to see a friend of Papa’s,’ said Henri. ‘He had a son. We all went truffle-hunting with their specially trained dog.’
‘Was the son your age?’ asked Alexandra. ‘Did you play together?’ She felt sorry for Henri, who never had other boys to spend time with.
Henri snorted and looked at his older sister. ‘He was eighteen. He was more interested in playing with Félicité!’
Alexandra saw a blush creep up Félicité’s neck until it reached her cheeks.
‘There are girls too,’ said Félicité quickly, ‘but they were out. Which was annoying.’
‘More to the point,’ said David, apparently unaware of Félicité’s reaction to the mention of the boy, ‘did you find any truffles?’
