‘I said, the day after tomorrow,’ said Henri.
‘I’ll have to think about it,’ said Alexandra. ‘I wonder if I can get in touch with your papa? Then we could ask him.’
Félicité rolled her eyes at the ridiculousness of this suggestion. ‘Papa had to telephone Maxime to tell us he was bringing his “colleague”.’ The inverted commas she put round this word were audible. ‘We’ll never be able to track him down!’
‘It’s not the same …’ Alexandra began and then stopped. Félicité’s body language was telling her she didn’t think her papa would approve. Which made her decision a lot easier. Except – Félicité and Henri were teenagers! They had very little social life. Was it fair to forbid them to go to the one party they’d been invited to?
She went into the salon, disobeying Stéphie’s instructions, and lit the fire that had been laid ready. She wanted some time to herself to think about things. Jack came in with a glass of Muscat for her.
‘Guaranteed to aid thought,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have just given Henri the invitation. I’m assuming you’re in here wondering if you can let them go to the party?’
Alexandra nodded and took the glass. After a sip of the sweet but musky wine she said, ‘Would it look crazy if I went to the party with them? I just feel they should be going to parties, having a nice time. Mostly they’re here in the chateau, happy enough, but Félicité – she needs to meet boys! She’s growing up! And Henri should meet a few girls who aren’t his sisters.’
Jack sat down opposite her and added a log to the fire. ‘I think that’s the perfect solution.’
‘The nanny going to the children’s party with them? To make sure they eat bread and butter before cake and say thank you properly afterwards?’
Jack laughed. ‘You don’t look like a nanny and you’re hardly older than they are!’
‘I’m twenty!’
‘That’s not very old. Keep your hair in that plait over your shoulder you’ve been wearing lately, put on your blue jeans, you’ll fit right in.’
‘Thank you, Jack. It’s a compromise. I’ll ask them about it. They can choose to have me along or not go. But I feel I have to give them the opportunity.’
It was the day of the party – two days before Antoine and Véronique were due to arrive for Christmas – and the house was almost ready. Every downstairs room was decorated. Presents had been bought and wrapped and put in a huge barrel brought in from one of the stables to keep them away from the kittens, who had discovered a passion for unwrapping anything with paper on it. Another huge barrel contained the Christmas tree, cut from the grounds and lavishly decorated thanks to a bargain struck in the market by David, whose ability to get a bargain was not hampered by his eccentric use of the French language.
That evening, Stéphie (who had had to be heavily bribed) was already at her grandmother’s making animals out of salt dough, a process Penelope had learnt from a German friend. So it was Alexandra, Henri and Félicité whose outfits were being given the once-over by David and Jack (who also wanted the address of the party).
Alexandra wasn’t accustomed to dressing so she wouldn’t stand out. Her style had always been a bit out of the ordinary, but tonight she wanted to look like a standard teenager. Under her leather jacket (another brocante purchase) she was wearing jeans, a black polo-neck jumper (without the outsize pearls she longed to add) with her hair in a plait. Henri and Félicité also wore jeans. Henri had a navy sweater with his and Félicité a stripey top. Alexandra and Félicité had added black eyeliner and mascara.
‘I don’t look like the nanny chaperoning her charges at a children’s party, do I?’ Alexandra asked. She had memories of uniformed nannies hovering over small children in frilly dresses in smart London houses. The nannies certainly hadn’t made the parties any more fun.
Everyone inspected her. ‘No,’ said David and Jack, horrified and amused.
‘You look fine!’ said Henri. ‘Now can we go?’
‘You just look a bit older than us,’ said Félicité. ‘I could tell people you didn’t want to be left alone in the chateau except I never tell anyone I live in a chateau unless I really can’t help it.’
Alexandra nodded. ‘I used to be careful who I told I lived in Belgravia – which is a rather grand part of London. So, I’ve got the car keys, we all know the address. I’ve got money for emergencies, in my bag and in my bra – we’re set!’
Alexandra wasn’t quite as gung ho about setting out in the dark to an unknown destination as she pretended, but logically she felt it should be fine so she was refusing to let herself worry. Getting Félicité and Henri to accept her going with them had been a bit tricky but when they realised it was either take her or not go, they’d accepted it. Alexandra was grateful they were in rural France and not somewhere where there was public transport. Otherwise she couldn’t have stopped them going without her.
Eventually they found the house, on the outskirts of Saint-Jean-du-Roc, and Alexandra found a space to put the car. Most people had not so much parked as just stopped their cars, so finding somewhere near the house was tricky.
But the sight of the cars encouraged Alexandra. She wouldn’t be the only slightly older person there. She was clutching a bag with a bottle of wine in it. According to Henri, it was expected. She wasn’t sure how French parents would regard this sort of thing so just resolved to not drink at all herself and try and limit what her charges drank. She wasn’t looking forward to the evening at all.
‘We’ll leave our coats in the car,’ she said. ‘Then we don’t have to spend hours finding them.’ The shenanigans that sometimes went on in bedrooms containing piles of coats was not something Alexandra wanted her charges to witness. ‘Is everyone ready? Then on y va!’
Chapter Twenty-three
Johnny Hallyday singing ‘Let’s Twist Again’ in French hit them as soon as the front door was opened by a black-clad boy with long hair and a pale face. He regarded them for a couple of seconds before nodding. They all went in.
It was a fairly wild party, far more grown up than the groups of girls and boys too shy to speak to each other that she’d half expected and definitely hoped for. Alexandra could tell that Félicité and Henri were half enchanted and half terrified. She felt a bit like that herself. It was so noisy, so hot, so full of young people dancing. The smell of aftershave and sweat was a heady combination. But it was too late to turn them round and take them home; they’d never speak to her again.
Henri spotted his friend and led the way to him. They exchanged some words in French that Alexandra couldn’t hear or understand.
Henri shouted to Alexandra and Félicité that they should have a drink. Alexandra wondered if she could forbid them to drink alcohol. She decided not but she’d have to keep a close eye on how much they had. As Henri and Félicité followed Henri’s friend the only thing she could do was to tag along behind.
