Hattie dropped the phone, her fingers suddenly numb and useless.
Luc picked it up. Hattie’s mum’s voice was so loud, Hattie could hear her calling her name.
‘It’s Luc here,’ he said. ‘Hattie’s a bit shocked.’
That was an understatement and a half. Hattie’s teeth had started chattering for some bizarre reason.
‘Oh, bless her. God, it’s awful. My brother-in-law has got his secretary phoning and emailing everyone to cancel the wedding. He’s cancelling the train and the flights. Can you tell her?’
Luc looked at Hattie. ‘I’ll tell her. Perhaps she’ll give you a call in a little while.’
‘Tell her I love her and how sorry we are. I’ll speak to her later.’
‘I will,’ said Luc.
Hattie closed her eyes as if that might shut out the enormity of the news.
‘I think we both could do with a drink,’ said Luc. ‘Come on. I’ll get the brandy out and then shall we let Fliss know?’ He pulled her to her feet and put his arm round her, holding her tight. Like a shipwreck survivor finding wreckage, she clung to him, her teeth still chattering, unable to think straight.
As soon as he led her into the kitchen, Solange and Fliss, clearly agog with curiosity, swivelled their heads like a pair of meerkats. He steered her to the table and sat her down, his arm around her.
‘Solange, would you get the Hennessy? And four glasses.’
Without questioning him, Solange disappeared. Fliss came over to the table, her face creased with concern and trepidation.
‘What’s happened?’ she asked.
‘Take a seat,’ said Luc, his voice gentle despite the command.
Solange joined them and Luc poured a cognac for Hattie and pushed it into her hand.
She managed to lift her shaking hand and took a sip. Concentrating on the smooth slide of liquid immediately calmed her and she took a second, bigger sip and then sat back as the warmth stole through her.
‘Better?’ asked Luc, pouring glasses for the others.
She nodded, now a little embarrassed that she was being so pathetic, but it was a wonderful relief to lean on someone else for a change. Taking a reinforcing breath – she needed to do this – she said, ‘I’m afraid the wedding has been cancelled.’
‘Your cousin’s?’ asked Fliss, disbelief etched in the frown lines on her forehead.
Hattie nodded. ‘She’s run off to Las Vegas.’
‘Oh God, not the Elvis chapel. Not when she could have this?’ Fliss threw out both hands, narrowly missing her cognac. Then she picked it up and knocked it back in one before saying, ‘Well, all I can say is, I hope you like wild salmon and lemon scented mash and sorbet, Luc, because you’re going to be eating them for a long time.’
Hattie managed a mirthless laugh at that. There were 150 salmon fillets in the freezer.
‘Not to mention the ton of green beans and asparagus that are arriving tomorrow.’ Fliss leaned over and squeezed Hattie’s arm. ‘On the plus side, sorry Solange, but Yvette’s going to be very happy.’
Solange smiled dryly. ‘You think? She’s in such a spin about this wedding. I’m not sure it will register.’
‘It is a terrible shame, when you’ve all worked so hard. I’m really sorry.’ Luc’s arm tightened around her shoulders and Hattie gave him a watery smile.
‘Like you said, it is what it is. I’m sorry about the champagne too.’
Solange cocked her head.
‘Marthe has vetoed us making champagne this year,’ explained Luc.
‘Non! But why? Why would she do that? She was devastated at having to retire, giving up the brand. I don’t believe it. For what reason?’ Solange locked her hands together as if she were praying, except the knuckles were bone white. ‘I don’t understand.’
