‘Well, do you?’
‘No. It’s such a shame that Papa seems to.’
Alexandra deliberately didn’t look at Félicité. She didn’t want to see pity or anything like that in her eyes. ‘Make a list of what paint you need. Have you an idea what you’d like to do?’
Félicité shrugged. ‘I’d need to think about it for a bit. Then I’ll get David or Jack to take me to buy what I need.’
‘Good idea. We’ll count you having to work out how much to get as a maths lesson.’
Félicité laughed, obviously delighted that her idea had been taken up so positively.
As Alexandra and Félicité walked back through to the main part of the chateau together, Alexandra reflected she was mad to let Félicité undertake a project like this when she herself was so busy and couldn’t help. But she was delighted by Félicité’s enthusiasm and her newly discovered love for art and design.
Four days before Antoine and Véronique were due to arrive back, David, Alexandra, Henri and Stéphie set about decorating the hall.
According to the children, usually no one did much about decorating the house at Christmas beyond setting up the crib. Antoine was always away until the last moment and whoever was looking after the children had their own houses to think about. Thus, when Alexandra, aided and abetted by David, announced they were going to be ‘decking the halls’ in a major way and explained what this entailed, everyone was excited. And while Milou just got in the way, the kittens obviously thought the whole venture was for them. They ran up every ladder, chased every spray of ivy and turned the curtains into a climbing frame and raced each other up and down them at great speed.
Henri and David went into the chateau grounds with saws and axes and buckets to gather greenery while Alexandra and Stéphie arranged the crib. It was set on a beautiful table in the hall, and the old clay figures and the newly carved wooden ones jostled for space in the stable. The baby Jesus was hidden behind the crib, to be put there at midnight on Christmas Eve. The Three Kings (on camels, with several donkeys, some the size of elephants) were on another table. They wouldn’t join the stable scene until Twelfth Night.
After they’d found every vase, pot and jar – anything that held water and might be useful for greenery – Alexandra lit the fire. The weather had turned really cold in the past week and Alexandra had had to borrow a couple of old sweaters from David to wear on top of her boiler suits to keep warm.
When the greenery arrived, everyone went a little crazy and only recovered when all the receptacles had been filled and the banisters, the picture rails, every picture and mirror in the hall had been draped. The pots were distributed so every room (including the loo) had at least one vase of greenery including bay, rosemary or winter-flowering viburnum filling the air with fragrance.
The salon was perfect, with candles in every candlestick and candelabrum that could be found. Cushions were plumped, furniture was arranged just so and Stéphie had declared that, from now on, no one was allowed to go in and sit down. All the best vases were there, looking stately and festive and smelling wonderful.
The hall was much less formal. There was greenery in buckets, branches of pine trees in chimney pots. It had a medieval feel to it, and was just a bit crazy.
The four of them, David, Alexandra, Henri and Stéphie, were just admiring their handiwork when Jack came in through the front door.
‘Good Lord!’ he said, having taken in his surroundings for a few seconds. ‘Is it Christmas or is David putting on the Scottish Play, and this is Birnam Wood?’
‘It’s Christmas,’ said Stéphie indignantly. ‘Anyone can see that!’
‘Sorry!’ said Jack. ‘I got confused for a minute.’
Then Félicité appeared; she had been painting her mural. ‘It’s very … lavish,’ she said, looking doubtful. ‘Not like we usually have it at all.’
David and Alexandra looked at each other. ‘We should probably get hold of some tinsel,’ said David.
‘Or baubles, at the very least,’ Alexandra said.
‘No, no! It’s perfect!’ said Jack hurriedly. ‘Don’t add another thing. And the smell is wonderful! Oh, and Henri? I met Jules from your music group in town.’ He produced an envelope. ‘He gave me this for you.’
‘What is it?’ said Stéphie.
Henri had opened the envelope. ‘It’s an invitation to a party. The day after tomorrow. It says, “Please bring your pretty older sister.”’
Alexandra’s sprits slumped a little and she hoped Félicité and Henri would both declare they didn’t want to go. She would have to ask Antoine and imagined speaking to the chain of command on the telephone until she got to Véronique. She would either say no on Antoine’s behalf or refuse to let her speak to him. And of course they couldn’t go without his permission.
‘A party?’ Félicité’s eyes lit up.
‘Yes,’ said Henri, looking at the invitation. ‘It’s from a boy who’s at the school we might go to.’
Alexandra became more anxious, especially as Félicité looked as though she definitely wanted to go. Could she forbid it? But maybe it would be fine. It might be a formal party, overseen by strict parents. That would be fine, she could surely say yes to that. But then again, if the boy was at the school Antoine had been thinking of sending his children to, the party wasn’t likely to be formal.
‘Can we go, Lexi?’ asked Félicité, who, Alexandra noticed, had bright pink paint in her hair.
‘When is it?’
