‘No, I have.’ I smiled.
She smiled back at me, suddenly looking impish. Eyes sparkling, she waved the parcel at me. ‘I can open him?’
‘Of course you can. It’s your present.’
Well, you learn something every day as they say. I certainly did. I learnt that when you feel thoroughly upset and jangled and at war with everything, all you need to do is make a teenager happy, and lo and behold, the world looks pretty damn good again.
‘Where did you get that gorgeous pashmina?’
This was Emma, arriving home shortly after me and plunging into kitchen life at the Villa Matisse with her trademark unbridled energy. Luc was bringing up the rear, but while looking possibly unbridled, it was certainly not with energy. Instead he looked thoroughly tired and not a little pissed off.
‘Alix give him to me.’ Nicole began pirouetting round the kitchen, twirling her pashmina above her head like the sail on a yacht and singing a pretty little French song under her breath.
‘Wow. Great choice, Alix. That colour looks fabulous on her.’
I pointed out I’d only chosen the same fuchsia pink asthe puffer coat Emma herself had given Nicole.
‘Is that so?’ exclaimed Emma hurriedly with one eye on her father. ‘I really wouldn’t know.’
‘Please don’t bother yourself with subterfuge,’ Luc said tiredly. ‘I know you fondly imagine your dear old dad never knows what’s going on, but I can assure you I’m not quite past it yet. It’s entirely up to you if you wish to give your clothes away.’ He cocked an ear as Nicole went on singing and spinning in a billow of pink.
‘Ohé! Ohé! Matelot!’
‘Well, it’s some years since I heard that,’ he said. ‘A little French children’s song about a ship that never sailed and a sailor whose crew mates are planning to eat him.’ He laughed. ‘They go on to discuss what sauce to serve with him.’
‘Matelot navigue sur les flots.’
Emma shuddered. ‘How macabre.’
‘Ohé! Ohé! Matelot!’
‘Oh, a healthy dose of horror never did any child any harm,’ scoffed Luc.
‘I don’t know about that,’ argued Emma with a dead straight face. ‘I remember when you took me to seeWinnie the Pooh and the Honey Treeand Piglet’s house got flooded, I was quite traumatised.’
Luc gave a solemn nod. ‘I know. I was too. In therapy for months.’
They both roared with laughter.
‘But seriously,’ said Luc. ‘If you consider Grimms’ Fairy Tales, for instance, they were exactly that – grim. It’s only this prissy age that wants to launder everything. Spoils all the fun.’
I was on the point of agreeing with him when he nodded his head towards me.
‘However, talking of the macabre, I take it that ironmongery you’re wearing round your neck is courtesy of Jules?’
I bit my lip.
‘Thought so,’ he snapped. ‘Trust him to choose something so bloody outlandish.’ He turned on his heel. ‘I have some emails to write.’
As the door closed behind him, Emma looked at me, but before she could speak, I said quickly, ‘Actually, your father’s got a point. Itisa bit outlandish – on me at any rate.’
‘Mmm. Not quite right for you maybe. Looks a bit like a dog collar on you somehow.’ Emma considered me with her head on one side. ‘I think you’ve got too much hair for it – lovely hair,’ she added hastily.
‘Don’t panic, dear,’ I said drily. ‘I get the picture.’
‘But hey, did Uncle Jules really give it to you? Have you been on a hot date with him or something?’
‘More lukewarm, I’d say.’
