Hattie guessed at the grand old age of ninety-five she probably slept a lot. At the sight of his unhappy face, her earlier thoughts of putting some distance between them faded. There was something wrong, she could sense it, and it just wasn’t in her nature to turn her back on someone in need. She held out her glass to him. How had she thought she could stay away from him?
‘Peaches eh?’ he asked, his fingers brushing hers as he took it from her.
‘Mm,’ she said airily, still rather pleased with herself.
He sipped and nodded with approval, a sudden wicked light glinting in his eyes. ‘You must have a good teacher.’
‘Oh yes,’ she said, ‘but there’s always more to learn.’
ChapterTwenty-Eight
When Luc walked into the kitchen that evening, he felt so much better. There was a hell of a lot to be said for shower sex and for a woman as generous and giving as Hattie. His heart swelled as he sought her out across the room, where she was leaning back against the counter chatting away to Fliss. Even though she’d instinctively known he was worrying about something, she hadn’t pressed him or pried for information. Instead she’d applied herself, rather thoroughly he might add, to taking his mind off things. He sighed with pleasure at the memory but it was more than good sex, so much more.
As if she read his thoughts, Hattie looked up, caught his eye and smiled before glancing away. Was she as aware of him as he was of her? He couldn’t help his gaze drifting towards her whenever she was around. He should have told her in Paris that he loved her but then his father had thrown a curve ball. Knowing of her previous relationship, he’d been biding his time, but now it was racing away. He didn’t want her to leave but would she want to stay?
He swallowed the fear. Knowing her history with her ex had made him wary of telling her how he felt. He needed to choose the right moment. It wasn’t now.
He sniffed appreciatively. ‘Dinner smells good.’ Not just that but there was a cosy atmosphere in here that he wasn’t used to. Something was different. For one thing, someone had taken a bulb out of the three pendant lights above the central island, which softened the light, while two fat creamy candles glowing in large hurricane glass vases gave the room a warm, homely golden light. These considered touches created a warm welcome, inviting a body to relax and stay a while. Quite a contrast to when he’d first come here as a boy and those memories of quiet evenings with just him and Marthe. At first, he’d found it intimidating sitting in here, especially with the dim lighting and scary shadows that danced on the high walls before the kitchen was modernised several years ago. Now the room shone with subtle gold light that was reflected by the cream paintwork of the cabinets. It made him breathe more easily, although he still wondered how his parents had abandoned him with so little thought or preparation. He wasn’t even sure they’d told him they were leaving him, which in hindsight seemed rather cruel. Now he felt happiest here, but it had been a long time coming. Tonight, for some reason, it felt more like home than ever before. Perhaps because he knew he didn’t have to leave.
‘Bonsoir,’ called Solange, entering the kitchen carrying a bunch of hand-tied flowers which she handed over to Fliss. ‘This is such a treat. I can’t remember the last time someone cooked a whole meal for me. I’m so excited.’
‘I’m a terrible daughter,’ said Yvette following her. ‘I can’t cook.’
Luc had been pleased to hear from Alphonse that Yvette had apologised to her mother and taken her to lunch as well as buying her a large box of chocolates.
‘You can, just not as well asMaman,’ said Alphonse, who loomed behind Solange. As usual he looked like a shaggy bear with his overlong hair in its perpetual unbrushed state. Alphonse had always been his own man and a scruffy one at that, although Luc doubted whether, even if he dressed in a cashmere designer suit, he’d look much better. From day one it had made Luc like him all the more. He was so different from the neat, well-pressed children he was forced to spend time with at his private school or his parents’ parties.
Luc watched with amusement as Fliss shot Alphonse a disapproving glance. ‘Nice to see you dressed up,’ she said.
Luc ducked his head to hide a smirk. Poor Alphonse was wearing his best jeans. For him this was as dressed up as it got.
‘Bonsoir,’ he said, brushing at his trousers with a shrug. ‘They’re clean.’
‘Hmph,’ said Fliss, taking the two bottles of wine that he held out.
‘I wasn’t sure what you were cooking,’ said Alphonse, ‘So I brought a red and a white.’
‘That’s very thoughtful of you,’ said Fliss, regarding the labels with a nod. ‘We’re having seafood, but I’ve already opened a very pleasant Pouilly-Fuissé. Would you like a glass? Or would you prefer one of these?’
Alphonse considered her response. ‘That’s an excellent choice,’ he said and Luc could tell he was reluctantly impressed, not that he would show it. Pig-headed as ever, Alphonse was convinced that this Englishwoman couldn’t possibly know anything about wine.
‘Dinner will be ready in five minutes. Would you all like to take a seat?’ said Fliss, rolling up the sleeves of a dress which accentuated her tall, slender figure. Where she was willowy, Alphonse was stocky, and she topped him by an inch.
Luc sat opposite Hattie as directed by the neat little place cards at each place setting. In comparison to his mother’s immaculate formal table, with crystal wine glasses, silver cutlery and starched tablecloths so stiff they could be folded like card, this was charming.
‘These are beautiful, Hattie,’ said Solange examining one of the place cards, her fingers tracing the sprig of lavender. ‘Such a simple, clever idea.’
‘So…’ Yvette waved her fingers, intimating ‘fiddly’, as she was obviously unable to find the right word in English. ‘I would not have the patience.’
‘You don’t need to tell us that,’ said Alphonse, sitting next to Luc beside the empty seat awaiting Fliss. Luc, noticing the placing, looked over at Hattie and raised an eyebrow. She shrugged as if to say she was giving him the benefit of the doubt. Luc was absolutely convinced that Alphonse was attracted to Fliss. They’d make a good match. He was all bluster and noise, while she cut through the crap and gave as good as she got.
‘Are you sure you don’t want a hand serving?’ asked Hattie, looking over at Fliss, who was darting around the kitchen at speed but in a collected manner that suggested she knew exactly what she was doing.
‘No. You’ll only get in the way,’ she said, not even turning around.
A minute later the first plate was placed in front of Solange bringing with it the smell of lemon and caramelised shellfish. In no time, Fliss had served everyone and sat down in her chair. Luc watched as Alphonse examined the dish, keeping half an eye on Fliss. Three scallops were delicately arranged on a bed of bean mash, sprinkled with a herby mix of cheese and breadcrumbs toasted to a golden brown.
Fliss waited. Alphonse grinned at her and, picking up a fork, prodded one of the scallops and raked the breadcrumb mix. ‘Looks good. Nice presentation. Good colours.’
