They heard the wedding party long before they saw the horse-drawn carriage enter the orchard. Shouting and cheering heralded the arrival of the group as it wound down the lane from the village. Hattie wondered at the docile nature of the poor horse, who seemed oblivious to the bells and whistles and general cacophony of the high-spirited crowd.
As the carriage drew to a stop, Bernard hopped down and held up his hand to guide Yvette down. Hattie beamed. Yvette looked as beautiful as every bride. A simple white sleeveless dress emphasised her slender form and contrasted sharply with her bright red hair piled on top of her head. The thread of tiny white orchids winding through her hair and a large spray of crocosmia in her hands completed the picture, making her resemble a wood nymph, perfectly at home among the apple and cherry trees.
As everyone swarmed around the couple, kissing them and offering congratulations, Hattie recognised Patrice from the shop, the grumpy florist, who was actually smiling today, the butcher, Marc from the bar and Pierre the gardener along with lots of other faces that were familiar. It made her smile, thinking of the friendly community that she had become part of.
‘Hello, Hattie.’ As always Luc dropped the H but it was the mere sound of his voice that sent goosebumps racing over her skin.
‘Luc.’ She smiled up at him, as always unable to stop her immediate response to him. Would familiarity ever dull that quick jump of delight?
‘It all looks wonderful. You’ve done a beautiful job. Congratulations,’ he said with a swift smile. She very nearly blurted out that she’d changed her mind and was going to stay but Alphonse joined them at that moment, munching a vol au vent with great delight.
‘I think I might have to marry her, you know,’ he said convivially taking a bite and watching Fliss move among the guests. ‘Great cook and she’s got one gorgeous arse.’
‘As good a reason as any to marry someone,’ said Luc with a wink at Hattie.
‘I think so,’ said Alphonse, chewing as if he were seriously considering the idea. ‘After all, with Yvette married off now, I’ve no reason not to.’
‘And yet another good reason,’ said Luc before adding, ‘And they say romance is dead.’
‘Exactly,’ said Alphonse before marching off towards Fliss to snag another canapé.
Luc shook his head, laughing. ‘I despair.’
‘I need to take this around,’ said Hattie indicating the tray in her hand, even though she’d have far rather stayed with him.
‘And I ought to check in with Marthe.’ Luc loped away towards his aunt whose wheelchair had been placed under one of the trees.
Hattie began to circulate but it was slow going, especially when she was dying to speak to Luc properly. Everyone was in such a good mood, they wanted to chat and share their views on the wedding.
‘Hattie, ah, the wedding it was beautiful,’ Pierre the gardener told her in his quiet shy way, speaking in slow careful French. She was quite pleased with her growing fluency.
‘The flowers in Yvette’s bouquet are gorgeous,’ she told him and watched as he flushed with quiet pride before taking an onion galette from her tray.
‘It is my honour to see flowers give so much pleasure. They suit her colouring,non?’
‘They do,’ she agreed.
‘And these, they are quite beautiful. You have such an eye,’ he said indicating the little posies suspended from the branches of the trees. ‘A beautiful idea. I would be happy to grow flowers for you all the time, you know.’
‘Thank you,’ said Hattie, realising that he was bestowing quite an honour upon her. She wondered what the château gardens would be like in spring. Those gorgeous eucalyptus trees would smell divine in the scented wreaths and table centrepieces in the winter months. In December she could create the most marvellous festive decorations… She grinned to herself. ‘I must take these round.’
‘But of course.’
She moved on to a small crowd gathered around Bernard, who immediately drew her into the circle. ‘Do you know Hattie? She is Luc’s girlfriend and she did this.’ He pointed to the trees.
‘It’s beautiful,’ said Patrice from the village shop. ‘Such a pretty idea. You are very clever. So original. I don’t think I’ve seen anything quite like it.’
‘Mm,’ said Hattie smiling but wondering if there was some sort of conspiracy going on.
‘You should stay, you know,’ said Bernard, without any preamble and attempt to dress his words up. Maybe she preferred his blunt approach. She gave him a slight smile – after all, you couldn’t be rude to the groom on his wedding day – but she was starting to wonder if the whole village hadn’t been discussing her affairs and were ganging up on her.
‘Ah, Hattie.’ Solange greeted her a minute later, kissing her on both cheeks. ‘These are my friends Dorothea and Leonora, Yvette’s godmothers.’
Hattie greeted the two very elegant woman, both in smart dresses and heels. She asked after the bride and Solange’s eyes sparkled with happy tears. ‘She did look beautiful.’ Dorothea and Leonora nodded and they discussed the dress for a moment before Leonora added with a naughty wink, ‘Bet you’re glad to get her off your hands.’
‘Am I ever,’ laughed Solange. ‘Now she’s Bertrand’s firecracker.’
‘He’s more than man enough,’ said Dorothea with a laugh.
