Solange shrank a little in her seat, before answering. At first her words were a little hesitant, especially as Yvette kept interrupting her. Then Yvette slammed her hand on the table, shouting. Her mother shook her head and tried to reason with her. Hattie looked at Alphonse, who’d returned to see what the commotion was; she was hoping for some enlightenment but he was earnestly reassuring Solange, who looked close to tears.
‘Pah!’ spat Yvette, rising to her feet and thrusting her chair out behind her. With angry, jerky movements, she gesticulated at her mother and then Alphonse, her hand catching one of the champagne glasses. It crashed to the floor and Solange’s eyes suddenly turned furious. ‘Yvette!’ she snapped and jumped to her feet, remonstrating with her daughter. Even though Hattie couldn’t understand a word, she was pleased to see Solange standing up for herself.
Her daughter snarled at her and then marched off into the gardens, her head held high.
Hattie sat there, her heart pounding, not knowing what to do, as tears filled Solange’s eyes and Alphonse went to comfort her. A sense of dread filled her. She’d never been good with disagreements, part of the reason she’d stayed with Chris for so long. This had been loud and angry and even though she’d not been directly involved, she felt a little shaky. Poor Solange’s face was pale but she kept her chin up and was talking to Alphonse, calmly.
‘I want to ask if everything is all right, but clearly it isn’t.’ The language barrier frustrated her.
‘A family dispute,’ said Alphonse, his mouth tightening. ‘I’m sorry. Yvette is a bit displeased withMaman.’
‘So I gathered.’ She turned to Solange and gave her a gentle smile. ‘Are you okay?’
Solange wiped away the tears, her mouth firming into a straight line. ‘Sadly, I am used to Yvette’s tantrums. She takes after her father. He was a difficult man to live with sometimes. I am sorry she has disturbed our meal but no matter.’ She rose. ‘I shall go and see if Fliss would like any help or would like me to remove my son.’
‘What was all that about?’ asked Hattie watching the other woman’s straight-backed retreat, tension knotting her stomach.
‘A difference of opinion,’ said Alphonse sitting down heavily.
‘Quite an extreme reaction,’ she observed, something in her gut telling her that it wasn’t the whole truth.
‘Yvette’s always been volatile,’ said Alphonse. ‘Once –’ he paused with a noticeable shudder ‘– when me and Luc wouldn’t let her go fishing with us, she filled our shoes with worms.’
‘Urgh!’ said Hattie imagining it all too clearly. ‘Poor worms. That’s horrible.’ He was clearly trying to lighten the mood.
‘Not as bad as leaving a grass snake in my bed.’
Solange, who was bringing out a dustpan and brush, raised her eyebrows at him. ‘And what did you do to deserve that?’
Alphonse attempted to look innocent, failing miserably, and Hattie surprised herself by laughing. ‘Now the truth comes out.’
‘The boys pushed her off a log into the river,’ explained Solange.
‘Marthe made us peel potatoes for a week for that one,’ he said, his lips drooping mournfully, ‘and I think she probably helped Yvette catch the snake.’
‘It was her idea,’ said Solange with a wry smile and both she and Hattie giggled, the earlier mood lifting.
‘Sorry,Maman, I will have a word with Yvette,’ said Alphonse.
‘She’s stressed about the we—’ Solange broke off as Fliss appeared carrying a large white soufflé dish. A golden, crisp cheese crust rose above the sides. Hattie’s mouth watered, even though she was still feeling nauseous about Luc’s earlier disappearance.
‘That smells divine,’ she said, glad of the diversion, knowing she was a coward but she really did hate any kind of conflict.
Conviviality soon returned as everyone praised Fliss’s soufflé and Solange’sboudin blanc– local sausages, served with greens and dauphinoise potatoes.
‘These are lovely.’ Fliss dissected one of the white sausages. ‘What’s in it?’ she demanded, waving a piece on her fork.
‘It’s a white sausage,’ explained Alphonse, suddenly enthusiastic as if he were pleased to be able to help. ‘A Champagne Ardenne speciality made from minced pork, breadcrumbs, cream, marjoram and sage. I takeMamanto the butchers in the town of Rethel specially to buy it.’
‘It has always been Alphonse’s favourite,’ said Solange, with a fond smile at her son.
By the time they finished dinner, the temperature had cooled. Alphonse had gallantly been in to load the dishwasher and tidy up. ‘Would anyone like another glass of wine? he asked when he returned. He turned to Fliss. ‘I think you’ll like the bottle I brought with me.’
‘I’ve had enough for this evening. I shall leave you young people to it,’ said Solange and, kissing everyone on both cheeks, melted away into the dusk.
‘I wouldn’t mind another glass, although shall we go inside? It’s getting a bit chilly,’ suggested Fliss.
‘I think I’ll head up to bed,’ said Hattie. ‘I’m still quite tired after my cold.’
