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

Alexandra had decided to refuse the glass of champagne that Jack was offering her until she spotted Véronique looking disapproving so she took it, although she knew it would make her feel tired. They were gathered in the salon and she was perched on a little settee a little way away from the others. She was plotting her escape.

‘The thing is’, said Jack, walking about in front of the fire, still bubbling with enthusiasm, ‘we need to have the wedding quite quickly, before my brother emigrates, so he and his family can come.’

‘We want to come too!’ said Stéphie. ‘So do the kittens. Milou doesn’t care. He’s a boy. They don’t care about weddings.’

‘You and Félicité will be my bridesmaids,’ said Penelope. ‘You will wear very pretty dresses and have flowers in your hair.’

‘I thought weddings, after your first, were usually simpler, more austere affairs,’ said Véronique, determined to suppress everyone’s joy.

‘Not in this case,’ said Penelope.

‘No, indeed,’ agreed Jack. ‘This is going to be a very grand celebration!’

Stéphie was jumping up and down. ‘I didn’t know old people got married. It’s very exciting.’

‘It’s very rude to refer to people as old,’ said Véronique.

‘Why?’ asked Stéphie. ‘Is it bad to be old?’

‘It’s better than the alternative,’ said Jack.

Penelope’s laugh in response was very like a giggle. She seemed to have turned from the strict grandmother to a woman in love in an instant.

‘The sooner these children go to school, the better,’ muttered Véronique.

‘What do you mean?’ asked Henri

‘I think you need to be at school, chéri,’ said Véronique. ‘I know your mother thinks you – I actually mean Félicité and Henri – should go in January.’

‘We’re not going to that school,’ said Félicité firmly.

‘No,’ Henri agreed, ‘we want to go to the school our friends go to.’

‘Children!’ said Antoine, quiet but firm. ‘This is not the time to talk about schools. We are talking about Penelope and Jack’s wedding.’

‘She started it,’ said Stéphie quietly, looking accusingly at Véronique.

Her father gave her a look which spoke volumes.

‘Maybe Stéphie and I should—’ Alexandra was on her feet, frantically thinking of some urgent activity that she and Stéphie could instantly embark on.

‘Don’t go,’ said Jack. ‘We want to talk to you about our wedding.’

‘Yes,’ said Penelope, looking at Antoine. ‘We want to have it in the old orangery.’

‘Of course,’ said Antoine, looking extremely surprised. ‘But it is not in a state for celebrations. Is there any particular reason?’

Penelope and Jack looked at each other and Penelope definitely blushed.

‘Erm – well …’ said Jack. ‘We met in Saint-Jean-du-Roc before the war. We were both on holiday here. The chateau was empty at the time and we got into the grounds where a wall had broken down.’

‘It started to pour with rain,’ said Penelope. ‘And we decided to take shelter in the orangery.’

‘I see,’ said Antoine. ‘But still, it’s not fit for anything like a wedding.’

‘Far better to have a nice lunch in the local auberge,’ said Véronique.

‘It will be fit for a wedding by the time Lexi and I have finished with it,’ said David, having shot a glance at Véronique, which, had she been looking, would have put her in her place. ‘We might ask Félicité to do a mural.’

Félicité looked pleased. She had been somewhat abashed by the mixed reception her mural in Véronique’s room had received.

‘That will be up to Antoine,’ said Véronique icily. ‘Everyone seems to have forgotten that the chateau is his. He may not wish to have the wedding here.’

Jack looked embarrassed. ‘I’m so sorry. It’s just—’

Antoine raised a hand. ‘I have already said, the chateau and its occupants would be delighted to host your wedding, Penelope and Jack,’ he said, having sent Véronique a look that Alexandra wished she could read. ‘Now, more champagne. Let us toast the orangerie, in the hope that it will be beautified in time. And, Félicité, I think a mural would be a very good place to start!’

Like a conjurer, David produced another bottle of champagne and filled the glasses.

‘To the orangerie,’ said Antoine raising his, ‘and to my dear mother-in-law Penelope and her lucky fiancé, Jack!’

As soon as she decently could, Alexandra escaped to her bedroom, ostensibly to wrap presents, actually to lie on her bed and wonder what she should do. She knew that Véronique was here with Antoine, and knew she should leave, and was wondering when and how she should go about this, when Stéphie came in, one kitten sitting on her shoulder, the other in her arms.

‘Oh, here you are! I’ve just been downstairs, outside Papa’s study.’

‘Why were you there, Stéphie?’ Alexandra asked, thinking there couldn’t possibly be a sensible reason.

‘I heard Papa and Véronique talking.’

For a second, Alexandra fought with herself. She knew she should reprove Stéphie for listening to other people’s conversations, but she was struggling. ‘You know you shouldn’t listen outside closed doors—’

‘So don’t you want to hear what Véronique said?’

Alexandra exhaled. ‘All right, tell me. I can see you really want to.’

‘She said that Papa should dismiss you.’

Alexandra gasped. Surely she hadn’t done anything bad enough to get her the sack. ‘Did she say why?’

‘She said that you’d let “the children”, although you didn’t let me,’ – Stéphie appeared to be a bit resentful about this – ‘attend a party that was quite unsuitable. And you let Félicité paint on the walls.’

‘And what did your papa say?’ This was the important bit. Alexandra knew perfectly well that Véronique would do anything to get rid of her.

Stéphie seemed disappointed. ‘He didn’t answer. I looked through the keyhole and could only see his mouth, which was in a line. He opened it as if he was going to say something but I didn’t hear. Milou woofed because one of the kittens bit his leg and so I had to run away up here.’

Alexandra didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want to tell Stéphie off for doing something she would certainly have done herself and they had already done together, but she didn’t think she could just leave it either.

Stéphie seemed to understand her dilemma. ‘Lexi, I know you think I shouldn’t have listened, but you are pleased to know what Véronique said, aren’t you? And sometimes you have to listen at doorways to find out important things no one is going to tell you because you’re just a child.’

‘That’s very true,’ said Alexandra, who’d done a fair bit of eavesdropping herself growing up. ‘But we shouldn’t do it unless it’s really important. Now let’s go and help David with dinner.’

As she followed Stéphie and her kittens downstairs, she felt she hadn’t really handled the situation; she’d just let it ride. Maybe Véronique was right: she was a bad nanny.