‘Where did you learn to cook?’
Pausing before he took another mouthful, he lifted his head. ‘Right here, with Marthe and Solange. And they learned from theirmamies.’ At her puzzled look he qualified. ‘Grandmothers.’ He gave a sudden smile. ‘I was a very reluctant kitchen assistant at first. I didn’t see why I should have to help in the kitchen. But Marthe insisted that I chopped vegetables and helped.’ He grimaced. ‘I was a spoiled brat. It took me a long time before I even admitted to myself how much I enjoyed the camaraderie of the kitchen and being included as part of the team, especially when Alphonse and Yvette joined us. In the winter months it would be like a cosy party in here. The old range, it used to be there –’ he pointed to the alcove, which was now full of shelves with potted plants and recipe books and antique kitchen utensils ‘– and it heated the room. Alphonse and I would take turns putting the wood in, feeling like we were the men of the house.’
‘It sounds idyllic,’ said Hattie.
‘I guess it was, although I’m not sure I would have agreed at the time. Coming here was very strange at first. I was only seven. Dumped here because my parents had each booked a holiday and had forgotten to tell the other.’
Hattie blinked. ‘Didn’t they go on holiday together?’ she asked wondering if she was terribly naïve and unsophisticated. In her world families holidayed together.
Luc huffed out a laugh. ‘Rarely together. But at the same time, frequently.’
‘And they didn’t take you?’
‘I think I might have been in the way. They usually went with other people.’
‘Oh,’ said Hattie. It said so much about his parents’ marriage.
‘I hated coming here at the beginning. Especially the first time. No one told me what was happening. I was left in a strange house, in the country, with an old woman I didn’t know and I had no idea when or if I might go home. I was terrified.’ He gave a sudden grin. ‘But I wasn’t going to show it so I was a little shit.’
He pronounced it ‘sheet’ which made her smile.
‘I was rude, disrespectful and deliberately naughty but Marthe … she never lost her temper. She never held back from pointing out when I’d behaved badly, but she didn’t punish me. Just sat me down and told me my behaviour was not acceptable.’ He gave Hattie a smile. ‘I always knew where I was with her. She never lied to me and after a while this became home. Here I always knew what to expect.’
‘It sounds tough.’
Luc laughed. ‘Yeah, really tough. All this to run around in. With friends my own age. Being fed and looked after. This saved me – otherwise I might have turned out like my parents.’
‘Do you not get on with them?’
‘I get on fine with them but they drive me insane. I’ve lost count of my father’s mistresses, although my mother at least has a long-term boyfriend. They’re restless. Always on the move looking for the next thing that will entertain them, make them happy. It’s exhausting and for a long time I played by that tune. But now I want to stay put, build something here. This is my home and I’m staying. Unlike my parents, I’ve found my place in the world.’
The conviction in his voice made her a little sad. ‘I envy you. I’m not sure I have.’ She wasn’t sure she even had a home anymore. She could always go back to her parents but she hadn’t lived there since she’d gone to university. It seemed a terrible admission of failure. Originally she’d stayed in Manchester and got a job for an events company in the city, sharing a house with some uni friends, but then Chris had a breakdown and she’d changed jobs to go and live with him. In hindsight that hadn’t been the best thing but what else could she have done at the time? He needed help. He’d had to give up his job and could barely get out of bed. So she’d left a job she’d loved, taken a demotion and moved in with Chris and his mum.
Luc offered her a gentle smile. ‘There’s no hurry. There’s nothing wrong with having an adventure.’ He topped up her wine glass. ‘What do you think?’ He lifted his own glass and held it up to the light.
‘It’s good,’ Hattie said, vague again because, while grateful for the change of subject, she didn’t want to show her ignorance. She didn’t have the first clue about wine.
‘It’s a hundred per cent semillon,’ he said, swirling the wine around in his glass.
‘Really,’ said Hattie, taking a quick sip to avoid saying any more. It could have been a hundred per cent turnip peelings for all she knew. ‘So you make champagne here.’
‘Not yet but we will. For the last few years, we’ve been selling the grapes. This year, after the harvest, we will make the first wine at St Martin for fifteen years.’
‘So champagne and prosecco, what’s the difference. Is one French and the other Italian?’
For a moment there was shocked silence as Luc looked at her with the most appalled expression on his face and then he smiled. ‘You’re teasing me. I can see I am going to have to take you in hand while you’re here. You don’t know anything about champagne, do you?’
‘No,’ said Hattie, deciding she’d go along with him. As far as she was concerned, one was a lot more expensive than the other but they were in essence the same. ‘But I’m willing to learn.’
‘I shall take you on a champagne tour in Reims. That will only scratch the surface but it’s a start.’ He shook his head again. ‘But never use the words prosecco and champagne in the same sentence again. For that you can do the washing up.’
She grinned at him. ‘I was planning to anyway.’
ChapterNine
Her cousin was growing impatient. Gabby kept pestering for pictures of the interior of the château, even though over the last week Hattie had sorted out the order of service, found local printers, liaised with the new caterer, sourced the pale green and white table linen that her cousin had decided upon, ordered a dozen polaroid cameras for guests to take pictures during the wedding, and arranged for a huge cork board to be made to display the polaroid pictures during the reception.
Hattie had been able to oblige with lots of exterior shots but she couldn’t put it off any longer. It seemed Solange wasstilltrying to contact her usual cleaning crew, so Hattie had decided to make a start, hoping it might prompt the other woman to pull her finger out. She’d been working her socks off to try and bring the château up to scratch and had barely seen a soul. Luc seemed to go out with the lark and hadn’t been home for dinner once since that first night, and Solange occasionally drifted within sight in the distance but rarely came close enough for Hattie to talk to, probably because she was sick of Hattie asking if she’d heard from the cleaners yet.
