A Wedding in Provence: From the #1 bestselling author of uplifting feel-good fiction

Antoine was due home in a week’s time when Maxime, who had become a frequent visitor, called at the chateau with a message from him.

‘He’s bringing Véronique home for Christmas,’ he announced.

The joy and excitement which Alexandra was feeling vanished like snow in the rain. ‘Oh,’ she said, handing Maxime a glass of wine. He’d already been invited to stay for dinner.

‘Yes. He didn’t want to surprise you with an unexpected guest.’

‘Considerate of him,’ said David, looking at Alexandra, who found herself blushing.

‘Why didn’t he tell us himself?’ she asked. ‘And wouldn’t she be happier staying with her friend in town?’

‘Maybe the friend didn’t invite her,’ said Stéphie.

Maxime, who was possibly feeling awkward at having to deliver bad news, sipped his wine. ‘Apparently he tried to telephone several times but no one has ever answered.’

There was a pause. ‘We’ve been busy!’ said Alexandra, still feeling affronted. ‘It’s Christmas.’

There had been a lot of shopping, and Henri’s music group was now meeting twice a week practising carols. Jack and Stéphie had started making characters to supplement the santons, the traditional clay crib figures that had been found in the attic. There weren’t nearly enough animals, in Stéphie’s opinion. They’d made a workshop in one of the old stables, out of earshot of the telephone, and so had missed Antoine’s calls. Félicité was painting a background scene with palm trees, shepherds and sheep on the hills and a heavenly host with real gold paint.

‘Does Véronique have to come?’ said Stéphie. ‘I hate the way she hugs me all the time.’

Alexandra and David exchanged glances. ‘I know!’ said David, who had completely taken over Christmas catering plans. ‘Why don’t we invite lots of people to come for Christmas? Could you come, Maxime?’

‘For Christmas Day? Yes! Christmas Eve is the important day in France,’ he said presumably for Alexandra’s benefit, who already knew this.

‘Excellent!’ said David. ‘We are having an English Christmas.’

‘Penelope is really looking forward to it,’ said Jack. ‘We all are,’ he added awkwardly. ‘But can we just invite everyone here instead of going to Penelope’s house? We just work here. We don’t own the place,’ he went on.

‘I think it’s perfectly permissible for you to invite people for Christmas,’ said Maxime, after a quick glance at David. ‘You will be doing the work and I’m certain Antoine won’t grudge extra money spent on food and wine at this time of year. As his lawyer, I give permission on his behalf!’

‘Oh, thank you, Maxime!’ said Alexandra, putting an arm round his waist and giving him a little hug. ‘If we choose who we invite we won’t feel as if we’re being invaded by Véronique. I don’t think having her in charge would be much fun.’

‘She’d want us to wear ghastly frilly dresses,’ said Félicité. ‘Like Grand-mère, although worse.’

‘Have you got dresses like that in your wardrobe?’ asked Alexandra, suddenly thinking she should know the answer. It hadn’t occurred to her to go through her charges’ wardrobes. She washed the clothes they wore and put them on their beds when they were dry.

Félicité nodded. ‘I like the colour of mine, but it’s very babyish.’

‘If you can still fit into it, we could adapt it. Otherwise, we’ll get rid of it,’ said Alexandra. She pulled her hair over her shoulder and began to plait it. ‘We’re going to make Christmas really special!’

‘Bravo!’ said Maxime, raising his glass in a toast.

‘Come on, let’s eat,’ said David. ‘Félicité? Find a knife and fork for Maxime, there’s a dear.’

Alexandra was doing the washing up and Félicité, who had become far more amenable lately, was drying, when Alexandra said, ‘Where shall I put her?’

David, who was at the table shelling walnuts for a cake he planned to make, said, ‘Well, you don’t want to end up giving her your bedroom again.’

‘You mean Véronique?’ said Félicité. ‘Isn’t there a room near where you and Jack are sleeping?’

‘There is, but it’s a bit … well, put it like this: it needs work,’ said David.

‘A lot of work?’ asked Alexandra.

‘Not sure,’ which indicated to Alexandra that he was sure, and it was in a bit of a state.

‘Let’s look at it tomorrow,’ said Alexandra and reached for the last dirty saucepan. ‘We can see what needs to be done then.’

Félicité came with Alexandra to inspect the walls of Véronique’s potential bedroom the following morning.

‘It’s a pretty room with lovely views,’ said Alexandra. ‘And it’s near a bathroom. We could ask David to share the bathroom with Jack at the end of the passage.’

‘But it has a large damp stain on the wall,’ said Félicité.

‘Yes.’

Alexandra was just considering which was less work: repainting the wall, or giving up her room to Véronique, when Félicité said, ‘I could paint a mural.’ In spite of her casual tone, Alexandra could tell she wanted to do it and was nervous in case her idea was rejected. ‘I’ve been wondering about doing one in my bedroom. I’ve enjoyed doing little ones for the doll’s house and the crib, and have been thinking about doing a much bigger one.’

‘What about paint? Where would you get it?’

‘I’d use house paint, I think,’ said Félicité. ‘I’d need some small brushes for the detail. Do you think it’s a good idea, then?’

‘Excellent!’ said Alexandra. ‘Apart from looking really good, the smell of paint would disguise the smell of damp!’

Félicité laughed. ‘You really don’t like Véronique, do you?’

‘Well, do you?’

‘No. It’s such a shame that Papa seems to.’

Alexandra deliberately didn’t look at Félicité. She didn’t want to see pity or anything like that in her eyes. ‘Make a list of what paint you need. Have you an idea what you’d like to do?’

Félicité shrugged. ‘I’d need to think about it for a bit. Then I’ll get David or Jack to take me to buy what I need.’

‘Good idea. We’ll count you having to work out how much to get as a maths lesson.’

Félicité laughed, obviously delighted that her idea had been taken up so positively.

As Alexandra and Félicité walked back through to the main part of the chateau together, Alexandra reflected she was mad to let Félicité undertake a project like this when she herself was so busy and couldn’t help. But she was delighted by Félicité’s enthusiasm and her newly discovered love for art and design.

Four days before Antoine and Véronique were due to arrive back, David, Alexandra, Henri and Stéphie set about decorating the hall.

According to the children, usually no one did much about decorating the house at Christmas beyond setting up the crib. Antoine was always away until the last moment and whoever was looking after the children had their own houses to think about. Thus, when Alexandra, aided and abetted by David, announced they were going to be ‘decking the halls’ in a major way and explained what this entailed, everyone was excited. And while Milou just got in the way, the kittens obviously thought the whole venture was for them. They ran up every ladder, chased every spray of ivy and turned the curtains into a climbing frame and raced each other up and down them at great speed.

Henri and David went into the chateau grounds with saws and axes and buckets to gather greenery while Alexandra and Stéphie arranged the crib. It was set on a beautiful table in the hall, and the old clay figures and the newly carved wooden ones jostled for space in the stable. The baby Jesus was hidden behind the crib, to be put there at midnight on Christmas Eve. The Three Kings (on camels, with several donkeys, some the size of elephants) were on another table. They wouldn’t join the stable scene until Twelfth Night.

After they’d found every vase, pot and jar – anything that held water and might be useful for greenery – Alexandra lit the fire. The weather had turned really cold in the past week and Alexandra had had to borrow a couple of old sweaters from David to wear on top of her boiler suits to keep warm.

When the greenery arrived, everyone went a little crazy and only recovered when all the receptacles had been filled and the banisters, the picture rails, every picture and mirror in the hall had been draped. The pots were distributed so every room (including the loo) had at least one vase of greenery including bay, rosemary or winter-flowering viburnum filling the air with fragrance.

The salon was perfect, with candles in every candlestick and candelabrum that could be found. Cushions were plumped, furniture was arranged just so and Stéphie had declared that, from now on, no one was allowed to go in and sit down. All the best vases were there, looking stately and festive and smelling wonderful.

The hall was much less formal. There was greenery in buckets, branches of pine trees in chimney pots. It had a medieval feel to it, and was just a bit crazy.

The four of them, David, Alexandra, Henri and Stéphie, were just admiring their handiwork when Jack came in through the front door.

‘Good Lord!’ he said, having taken in his surroundings for a few seconds. ‘Is it Christmas or is David putting on the Scottish Play, and this is Birnam Wood?’

‘It’s Christmas,’ said Stéphie indignantly. ‘Anyone can see that!’

‘Sorry!’ said Jack. ‘I got confused for a minute.’

Then Félicité appeared; she had been painting her mural. ‘It’s very … lavish,’ she said, looking doubtful. ‘Not like we usually have it at all.’

David and Alexandra looked at each other. ‘We should probably get hold of some tinsel,’ said David.

‘Or baubles, at the very least,’ Alexandra said.

‘No, no! It’s perfect!’ said Jack hurriedly. ‘Don’t add another thing. And the smell is wonderful! Oh, and Henri? I met Jules from your music group in town.’ He produced an envelope. ‘He gave me this for you.’

‘What is it?’ said Stéphie.

Henri had opened the envelope. ‘It’s an invitation to a party. The day after tomorrow. It says, “Please bring your pretty older sister.”’

Alexandra’s sprits slumped a little and she hoped Félicité and Henri would both declare they didn’t want to go. She would have to ask Antoine and imagined speaking to the chain of command on the telephone until she got to Véronique. She would either say no on Antoine’s behalf or refuse to let her speak to him. And of course they couldn’t go without his permission.

‘A party?’ Félicité’s eyes lit up.

‘Yes,’ said Henri, looking at the invitation. ‘It’s from a boy who’s at the school we might go to.’

Alexandra became more anxious, especially as Félicité looked as though she definitely wanted to go. Could she forbid it? But maybe it would be fine. It might be a formal party, overseen by strict parents. That would be fine, she could surely say yes to that. But then again, if the boy was at the school Antoine had been thinking of sending his children to, the party wasn’t likely to be formal.

‘Can we go, Lexi?’ asked Félicité, who, Alexandra noticed, had bright pink paint in her hair.

‘When is it?’

‘I said, the day after tomorrow,’ said Henri.

‘I’ll have to think about it,’ said Alexandra. ‘I wonder if I can get in touch with your papa? Then we could ask him.’

Félicité rolled her eyes at the ridiculousness of this suggestion. ‘Papa had to telephone Maxime to tell us he was bringing his “colleague”.’ The inverted commas she put round this word were audible. ‘We’ll never be able to track him down!’

‘It’s not the same …’ Alexandra began and then stopped. Félicité’s body language was telling her she didn’t think her papa would approve. Which made her decision a lot easier. Except – Félicité and Henri were teenagers! They had very little social life. Was it fair to forbid them to go to the one party they’d been invited to?

She went into the salon, disobeying Stéphie’s instructions, and lit the fire that had been laid ready. She wanted some time to herself to think about things. Jack came in with a glass of Muscat for her.

‘Guaranteed to aid thought,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have just given Henri the invitation. I’m assuming you’re in here wondering if you can let them go to the party?’

Alexandra nodded and took the glass. After a sip of the sweet but musky wine she said, ‘Would it look crazy if I went to the party with them? I just feel they should be going to parties, having a nice time. Mostly they’re here in the chateau, happy enough, but Félicité – she needs to meet boys! She’s growing up! And Henri should meet a few girls who aren’t his sisters.’

Jack sat down opposite her and added a log to the fire. ‘I think that’s the perfect solution.’

‘The nanny going to the children’s party with them? To make sure they eat bread and butter before cake and say thank you properly afterwards?’

Jack laughed. ‘You don’t look like a nanny and you’re hardly older than they are!’

‘I’m twenty!’

‘That’s not very old. Keep your hair in that plait over your shoulder you’ve been wearing lately, put on your blue jeans, you’ll fit right in.’

‘Thank you, Jack. It’s a compromise. I’ll ask them about it. They can choose to have me along or not go. But I feel I have to give them the opportunity.’

It was the day of the party – two days before Antoine and Véronique were due to arrive for Christmas – and the house was almost ready. Every downstairs room was decorated. Presents had been bought and wrapped and put in a huge barrel brought in from one of the stables to keep them away from the kittens, who had discovered a passion for unwrapping anything with paper on it. Another huge barrel contained the Christmas tree, cut from the grounds and lavishly decorated thanks to a bargain struck in the market by David, whose ability to get a bargain was not hampered by his eccentric use of the French language.

That evening, Stéphie (who had had to be heavily bribed) was already at her grandmother’s making animals out of salt dough, a process Penelope had learnt from a German friend. So it was Alexandra, Henri and Félicité whose outfits were being given the once-over by David and Jack (who also wanted the address of the party).

Alexandra wasn’t accustomed to dressing so she wouldn’t stand out. Her style had always been a bit out of the ordinary, but tonight she wanted to look like a standard teenager. Under her leather jacket (another brocante purchase) she was wearing jeans, a black polo-neck jumper (without the outsize pearls she longed to add) with her hair in a plait. Henri and Félicité also wore jeans. Henri had a navy sweater with his and Félicité a stripey top. Alexandra and Félicité had added black eyeliner and mascara.

‘I don’t look like the nanny chaperoning her charges at a children’s party, do I?’ Alexandra asked. She had memories of uniformed nannies hovering over small children in frilly dresses in smart London houses. The nannies certainly hadn’t made the parties any more fun.

Everyone inspected her. ‘No,’ said David and Jack, horrified and amused.

‘You look fine!’ said Henri. ‘Now can we go?’

‘You just look a bit older than us,’ said Félicité. ‘I could tell people you didn’t want to be left alone in the chateau except I never tell anyone I live in a chateau unless I really can’t help it.’

Alexandra nodded. ‘I used to be careful who I told I lived in Belgravia – which is a rather grand part of London. So, I’ve got the car keys, we all know the address. I’ve got money for emergencies, in my bag and in my bra – we’re set!’

Alexandra wasn’t quite as gung ho about setting out in the dark to an unknown destination as she pretended, but logically she felt it should be fine so she was refusing to let herself worry. Getting Félicité and Henri to accept her going with them had been a bit tricky but when they realised it was either take her or not go, they’d accepted it. Alexandra was grateful they were in rural France and not somewhere where there was public transport. Otherwise she couldn’t have stopped them going without her.

Eventually they found the house, on the outskirts of Saint-Jean-du-Roc, and Alexandra found a space to put the car. Most people had not so much parked as just stopped their cars, so finding somewhere near the house was tricky.

But the sight of the cars encouraged Alexandra. She wouldn’t be the only slightly older person there. She was clutching a bag with a bottle of wine in it. According to Henri, it was expected. She wasn’t sure how French parents would regard this sort of thing so just resolved to not drink at all herself and try and limit what her charges drank. She wasn’t looking forward to the evening at all.

‘We’ll leave our coats in the car,’ she said. ‘Then we don’t have to spend hours finding them.’ The shenanigans that sometimes went on in bedrooms containing piles of coats was not something Alexandra wanted her charges to witness. ‘Is everyone ready? Then on y va!’