‘Could you pass me the rolling pin?’ asked Fliss. ‘I’ll—’
Her words were drowned by the crash and reverberation of the front door of the château slamming. All three women jumped and Solange dropped the heavy rolling pin on the floor with a clatter.
‘What the…’ said Fliss.
Hattie, wiping floury hands on her apron – she’d been roped into cutting out the pastry for vol au vents – rushed out into the hall to find Luc sitting on the stairs, trying to tug off his boots and snarling under his breath. He looked sweaty and red-faced. Her heart turned over at the sight of him. Since that last morning she’d left his bedroom, they’d been excessively civil to each other and Hattie hated it. She missed being with him more than she could have thought possible.
She swallowed. ‘Are you okay?’
Giving up on his boot, he stamped his foot.
‘No, I’m fucking not!’ He paused and looked up at her with woebegone eyes. ‘Sorry, Hattie – I’m pissed off. Really, really pissed off.’
‘What’s happened?’
‘I went to see Marthe again, I was hoping I might get her to change her mind but she’s adamant that we should sell the grapes and I have no idea why. It doesn’t make any sense. I’ve been going over and over it in my head.’
‘I’m so sorry, Luc.’ Without a second thought, she came to sit down beside him.
‘I just don’t understand.’ He dropped his head into his hands, his elbows propped on his knees.
She had to fight the urge to run her fingers down the tantalising skin on the back of his neck but she couldn’t help putting a hand on his arm.
They sat there in silence for a minute until Luc glanced up and gave her a miserable smile.
‘Thanks, Hattie.’ He sighed heavily.
‘I’m really sorry,’ she repeated.
‘It is what it is.’ His mouth twisted. ‘But I’m not going to give up. I’m not. I don’t know how yet but I will make champagne, even if it’s not St Martin champagne. I’ll find a—’
He was interrupted by Hattie’s phone ringing in her apron pocket. She ignored it, even though she was desperate to answer it. At this stage of wedding planning every call was important.
Luc nudged her. ‘Hey, you’d better get that, hadn’t you?’
‘It’s okay.’
‘Answer it. I’m fine. Just throwing a tantrum. I’ll get over it.’ He rubbed a weary hand across his forehead.
Reluctantly she drew out her phone and saw who was calling.
‘Hi, Mum.’
‘Hattie…’ The static silence filled Hattie with foreboding.
‘Mum?’
‘Oh, Hattie.’ Her mum’s voice broke on a sob.
‘Mum, what is it? What’s happened?’ Next to her Luc put his hand on hers and at the gesture of solidarity she looked at him. He squeezed her hand, just to let her know he was there. She squeezed it back, surprised by how grateful she was for the reassurance it gave her.
‘It’s Gabby. She’s … she’s…’
A chill inside and out settled over Hattie. Saliva gathered in her mouth.
‘She’s what?’
‘She’s gone. Her and Hugo, they’ve gone to Las Vegas. To get married.’
