‘Although they’re not as grand as the ones in the hallway,’ she added, immediately winning the housekeeper over, as a rare smiled brightened Solange’s solemn face. ‘Did you arrange those? They’re beautiful.’
‘I did. We’re very fortunate. Pierre, the gardener, keeps us well stocked with cut flowers. I find working with flowers … peaceful.’
‘Me too,’ said Hattie with chatty friendliness. ‘My granny is a big flower arranger. They just brighten up a room, don’t they?’
To Luc’s amazement, Solange’s face brightened even more. ‘They do.’ She looked at Hattie’s basket. ‘You have been shopping,’ she said before giving Luc an accusing glare as if he should have taken her.
Good God, the Ferrier women had it in for him today. He wanted to hold his hands up in surrender, which he might have done with Yvette – she could more than stand up for herself – but Solange, since her husband’s death, bruised easily.
‘Yes, I got a bit carried away by all the wonderful cheese.’
‘You should go to the market. They have an even better selection.’
‘I’d love that.’
‘If you like I will take you one day. The flowers there are quite wonderful, although don’t tell Pierre I said that.’
‘I won’t,’ said Hattie.
‘If you like I can ask my son to bring you fresh croissants in the mornings from the boulangerie.’
‘I wouldn’t want him to go to any trouble. I’ve been cycling to the village every day for a coffee and just to sit and enjoy being in France but I’m starting to get a bit busier now.’
‘No, now that I’m back he will bringing them for me and this is on his way to work.’
Luc folded his arms. No one had offered him freshly baked croissants. As if reading his mind, Solange gave him a gentle smile. ‘You live here. Hattie is a guest.’
‘A working guest,’ interjected Hattie. ‘And I have a lot to do, so if you’ll excuse me. I’ll just put this lot away and get to work. Nice to meet you, Solange.’
Solange nodded and turned to Luc, speaking in French again. ‘She seems very nice.’ She sighed, wringing her hands. ‘What are we going to do?’
‘I don’t know,’ replied Luc because it was the truth. He watched as Hattie began unloading her shopping and he turned on the kettle for something to do. He didn’t have a damn clue what to do.
When he turned round Solange had drifted out of the patio doors.
‘Is everything all right?’ asked Hattie.
‘Mm. Would you like a coffee?’ Luc stretched up to retrieve the coffee beans and was grateful for their loud clatter in the electric grinder which prevented conversation, if only briefly.
‘Yes please, that would be lovely. That all sounded very dramatic.’
‘Yvette is … volatile.’
‘So I saw,’ said Hattie rubbing her arm again. ‘I don’t want to pry but if that was a small difference of opinion, I’d hate to see what a big one would be like.’
‘Sorry about that. She’s a little upset about … some news she’s had.’ Should he tell Hattie about the date clash?
Hattie nodded and continued putting her shopping away.
It seemed natural for the pair of them to gravitate to the breakfast bar and sit side by side, drinking their coffee.
‘Can I ask about something?’ Hattie put her coffee down and gave him a direct look.
‘Yes,’ he said, in the sort of clipped voice which actually meant to anyone that chose to hear that he really meant ‘No’.
‘You said Solange is the housekeeper. What does she do? I mean, for example, she doesn’t do the shopping – you said you stocked the fridge. I’d have thought that would have been something she would do.’
‘She does lots of things,’ said Luc a little desperately, not wanting to be disloyal to Solange. She’d been with the family for the whole of her working life. In fact, shewasfamily.
