‘It must be very good news indeed,’ she said, more soberly now. ‘He is like a miser with that wine.’ She let out a weary sigh and, with what looked like great effort, hauled herself to her feet. ‘Have you eaten? I was at the market this morning.’
‘No, there wasn’t time,’ he said, immediately feeling guilty. He should have been more evasive. Solange looked as if finding food was the last thing she needed at the moment. ‘When he gets here, I’ll tell you all about … everything.’
She nodded. ‘Have you seen Marthe?’
‘No, I’ll go tomorrow morning.’
‘There’s brandy in the cellar.’
She exchanged a weak smile with him.
‘I think the only reason she tolerates visitors is because we bring her illicit goods,’ joked Luc.
‘But of course,’ replied Solange. ‘Would you like something to eat?’ She waved a vague hand at the fridge.’
‘No, it’s fine,’ he said and was immediately outed by his stomach grumbling in protest.
With another one of her weary sighs, she shook her head. ‘Take a seat out in the courtyard.’
‘I don’t want to put you to any trouble…’
Her mouth pursed and she straightened, an unexpected spark of steel in her eyes. ‘The day I can’t put a plate of food together, Luc Brémont…’ With more animation than she’d shown since he’d arrived, she waved him outside.
A few minutes later she emerged with a tray bearing a plate of cheese, a basket of rustic white bread, a dish of olives and some slices of richly coloured saucisson, along with four champagne coupe glasses, which she put on the bistro table in the shade of a wisteria that was just about to bloom.
‘And before you say anything, I like these glasses. No doubt, like Alphonse, you look down on them.’ These traditional glasses had long fallen out of fashion. ‘The champagne will not be in them long enough. Sometimes,’ she said wistfully, her eyes going dreamy, ‘there is joy in using beautiful things instead of practical things.’
Luc smiled. She’d always been very particular about presentation and appearances.
‘Yvette is on her way,’ said Solange. ‘Alphonse texted her to say you were here.’
Luc smiled dutifully, although not without a frisson of alarm.
‘Luc!’ He rose to greet her a few minutes later, as she hurled herself into his arms, making him grateful that she had her mother’s build rather than her brother’s.
‘Yvette.’
She cupped his face with a tanned hand. ‘You’re still so handsome.’
‘Thank you,’ he said, relieved to see the twinkle in her eye and one from the diamond on her finger. This was obviously her news.
‘Who’s the lucky man?’
She held up her hand to admire the sparkling engagement ring. ‘Bernard. I’m not sure you would remember him. He was always away for the summers and was in the year above me in school.’
Luc shook his head. Although he’d spent his summers here, he didn’t know many of the local children apart from Alphonse and Yvette.
‘You’ll meet him soon. He’s in Brittany this week. Me and Maman are going down to join him tomorrow for a week. You’ll have to fend for yourself.’
‘I’m so sorry, Luc,’ said Solange apologetically. ‘If I’d known you were coming...’
Guilt pinched at him. He really should have let Solange know he was coming. ‘I shall be fine. You do remember it was you and Marthe who taught me to cook.’
‘See,Maman. He’s a big boy now. And what news from you, Luc? How long are you staying this time?’ There was a slight mocking inflection in her voice, reminding him that she’d once had feelings for him and that he’d always disappeared at the end of the summer.
He looked up to acknowledge Alphonse’s approach. The other man was clutching a dark green bottle with the tenderness of a mother with her firstborn.
‘I’m staying for a while.’ He paused before making the announcement, ‘My father has finally agreed that we can produce champagne.’
