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

It was Christmas Eve and Alexandra and her three charges were squashed in the back of the car. They were off to have dinner – le réveillon de Noël – with Penelope.

Alexandra had suggested she should take the other car, with the children, and Véronique was keen on this idea. Antoine, however, decided they should travel as a family. Alexandra decided he still thought of his children as small. It wasn’t a very long journey, after all.

Jack was already at Penelope’s, and David had an engagement of his own for the evening. Alexandra wasn’t terribly looking forward to the gathering. Véronique was being dreadfully possessive of Antoine and Lucinda was bound to be very maternal about her children. While there was nothing wrong with this, of course, it seemed to Alexandra to be a rather artificial sort of love and it set her teeth on edge. Also, when Véronique and Lucinda got together they seemed determined to condemn Alexandra as the nanny and while there was nothing remotely to be ashamed of, she found being haughty in the face of their disapproval quite tiring.

However, everyone seemed to be on their best behaviour. Penelope’s old friend Gérard was there as well as a couple of older gentlemen; Alexandra suspected that Penelope invited everyone who was likely to be on their own. Christmas Eve was the big day of celebration in France, which was why she and David could do an English Christmas on 25 December.

Eventually, Gérard and the more elderly members of the party went home and everyone was called into dinner. Penelope told Alexandra that the old people were very happy to have a drink but didn’t want a long and heavy meal which would stop them sleeping. ‘And although traditionally we should be eating this meal after Midnight Mass, I couldn’t have managed that even as a young person.’

‘Nor could I!’ said Alexandra. ‘Is there anything I can do to help?’

But Penelope had engaged some young women from Saint-Jean-du-Roc as waitresses and Alexandra’s help wasn’t required.

Everything was going well, if slightly boringly, when Stéphie suddenly remembered something.

‘Papa? You never told me what happened to the truffle? The one that Milou found in the forest?’

‘Oh, chérie!’ said Antoine. ‘I am so sorry. So much has happened since then. I sold it to my friend – the one who taught us all about truffle hunting that day. I got quite a lot of money for it, and next season, we will hunt for more!’

Stéphie clapped her hands delightedly. ‘So you will never go away to work again?’

‘Stéphie,’ said Véronique in a voice like honey, ‘your father is an important man. He cannot stay at home and look after you.’

‘And although I did get quite a lot of money for the truffle, all thanks to you and Milou,’ Antoine added, ‘it wasn’t quite enough for us to live on. Although in the years to come we will find more truffles and earn more. There just isn’t quite enough right now.’

Stéphie exhaled, obviously feeling thoroughly cheated. ‘Well then, Papa must marry Lexi. Then she’ll get her fortune and there’ll be plenty of money!’

Alexandra wanted to disappear into her chair and it was obvious that no one else at the table was happy either. Several people started to speak at once but it was Véronique’s voice that cut through the hubbub.

‘Stéphanie! You must not tell lies! Alexandra is not a fairy princess with a fortune to solve everyone’s problems.’

‘Yes,’ said Lucinda. ‘I think rather too much has been made of this fortune. It’s probably not very much at all.’

‘She definitely gets it when she marries,’ went on Stéphie, her clear voice audible to everyone. ‘I heard her talking about it on the telephone to her friend.’

Alexandra got up and left the room. She wasn’t easily embarrassed but now she was ready to die of it. ‘Indigestion!’ she said when she got to the door, hoping this explanation would satisfy the party.

Penelope found her five minutes later, leaning over the washbasin, her hands at her temples, hoping to soothe the headache that suddenly felt like knives. If only they’d come in two cars as she’d wanted, she could have gone home.

‘Oh, Penelope!’ she said in English. ‘What can I do? This is a disaster!’

‘Phff!’ said Penelope, also in English. ‘Why a disaster? A little girl has mentioned something everyone knew about anyway. And as for suggesting that Antoine marry you, no one will take that seriously. You have no reason to worry.’ She paused. ‘It probably was wise to let Antoine deal with the slight uproar Stéphie has created but really, child, it’s a storm in a teacup. Take a few moments now and then come back in. No one will be surprised if you’ve had une petite crise de foie – it’s traditional. I’ll find you a Vichy tablet. Eat it and then join us in a few minutes for the pudding.’

‘I do hope you’re right,’ said Alexandra.

‘My dear girl, I would be disappointed in you if you were bouleversée by such a small social upset. I’ll see you shortly.’

When Alexandra went back into the dining room everyone was eating and chatting merrily. Stéphie got up and ran over, flinging her arms round Alexandra’s waist. ‘I’m so sorry, Lexi! I didn’t mean to embarrass you. Papa said I did?’

Alexandra hugged her back. ‘Don’t worry, darling, I just needed a moment because I had a pain in my stomach. Do you know …’ Alexandra crouched down so only Stéphie would hear what she wanted to say next. ‘Grand-mère gave me a tablet and I ate it, and then I burped!’ She gave this word so much emphasis that Stéphie giggled. ‘I feel much better!’ she added. ‘Now, are the desserts delicious?’

They went back to the table together and Alexandra accepted a macaron, offered to her by Jack with a small bow and a big wink. She didn’t say no to another glass of champagne either.

Alexandra was up early on Christmas morning. She hadn’t slept well and now wanted a soothing cup of hot chocolate. She had spent a lot of the night wondering how soon she could leave the chateau; Stéphie’s question had made her feel very exposed. And when she wasn’t worrying about that, she worried about how to make Christmas Day special for the family. There were no favourite routines for this day as they usually completed all their celebrations the night before. She wanted to produce an English Christmas for them.

There was still the crib to look at and complete. Stéphie had been asleep when they got back the previous night and everyone had felt it was a shame to put the baby Jesus in place without Stéphie there.

There were presents to be opened. Although Penelope and Lucinda’s presents had been given and opened after supper, Alexandra, Jack and David had insisted on holding theirs back to make Christmas Day more like it was in England. Antoine withheld his, too, and so did Véronique.

Alexandra was whisking hot chocolate in a saucepan when David appeared. He was wearing his Noël Coward dressing gown and was sleepy but determined to wake up.

‘Happy Christmas, honey,’ he said. ‘How was your evening?’

Alexandra told him, including every detail, every blush and slightly exaggerating her rush from the room. She found that telling David made it all less awful somehow.

‘My poor little chicken!’ said David. ‘How crushingly embarrassing for you. And I don’t think that even I knew that about you getting your inheritance on your marriage. I thought you had to wait until you were twenty-five.’

‘I only found out about it myself when my cousins came, and I wouldn’t have then if I hadn’t overheard them talking about it. Stéphie was with me, and she now seems to have got into the very bad habit of listening at doors. But, as she frequently reminds me, I started it.’

‘But Penelope rescued you? She grows on you, doesn’t she? When I first met her I thought she was all prunes and prisms, to quote my favourite writer – starchy as all get out. But since she and Jack have been reunited she’s really softened.’

‘She was very kind. When I was lying in bed during the night, thinking about it, I thought it was so embarrassing I would have to leave, but now, well, maybe Penelope is right. It was only Stéphie saying something she shouldn’t.’

‘That’s my girl!’ said David.

‘And how was your evening?’ asked Alexandra, taking a sip from her foaming cup.

‘Delightful,’ said David in a way that did not invite further questioning but set Alexandra’s heart at rest; at least that had gone well!

‘So, Christmas!’ she said.

‘Yes! I didn’t get up at this ungodly hour for my health. I need to make a proper plan.’

‘David! You’ve been making plans for days!’

‘Never finalised them. Too many variables. Do you know traditionally they have thirteen desserts in Provence?’

‘Yes, I have been told several times, but we’re doing an English Christmas, so we don’t have to do that. It would be far too filling, anyway. So? What are we having?’

‘I found a lovely recipe for a tart with walnuts and caramel, and I’ve done a bûche de Noël – or a chocolate log as my gran would have called it. I thought the kids could decorate that if things get boring.’

‘On Christmas Day? That shouldn’t happen, should it?’

‘You know as well as I do about the longueurs of Christmas Day. I know we’ve always had fun since we got together but really? Having to wait until teatime to open your presents? The mad aunts and uncles who have to be invited because they’ve nowhere else to go? The Queen’s Speech?’

‘Well, I have experienced Christmases like that, but mostly, I’ve been in the mad aunt class. I had to be invited to other people’s Christmases because I had nowhere else to go. The Swiss cousins always arranged it. Sometimes I had fun and sometimes I didn’t.’

‘Well, this Christmas is going to be fun, for the children, anyway!’ said David. ‘So …’ He produced a hardbacked notebook. ‘I have a potential plan. It’s breakfast. A walk. Must have a walk on Christmas Day. Light lunch before our visitors come: they’re invited for about three; we’re planning to eat dinner at six. So when should we open presents?’

‘Oh goodness, I don’t know. The children have had some presents. They’ve got their stockings. Penelope gave them to me, filled and wrapped, and Antoine put them on their beds after they’d gone to sleep. Maybe we could wait until everyone is here?’

David wrote this down. ‘So, light lunch after the walk, then charades, then everyone else—’

‘Charades?’

‘Of course! It’s traditional! Proper charades when you act out half a word and then act out the second half. Lexi, darling, you have played charades, haven’t you?’

‘Yes, but I think it might be hard in two languages—’

‘Nonsense! Ah! Here’s Stéphie! Happy Christmas, darling!’ he said.

‘Happy Christmas,’ said Stéphie sleepily. ‘I brought my stocking down. Are the others up? We always open our stockings together.’

‘Tell you what, I’ll make some more hot chocolate and then we’ll wake them,’ suggested Alexandra.

‘We don’t need waking,’ said Félicité. ‘The kittens got into my bedroom and jumped on my face.’ She was holding her stocking, a beautifully embroidered velvet example which she put on the table. ‘Where’s Henri?’

‘Here. Wretched cats!’ he said. He had his stocking too.

‘Hot chocolate all round, then,’ said David. ‘Is the baker open on Christmas Day, do we think?’

Henri nodded. ‘For a short time.’

‘I’ll go!’ said Alexandra, glad of an excuse to get into the fresh air. It was surprisingly cold but she wanted to feel the air on her face and help her head to clear.

She got back to see everyone singing round the crib, in the hall. The last notes of ‘Away in the Manger’ to a different tune to the one she knew were dying away. Henri had accompanied it on his penny whistle.

‘That was delightful!’ she said, wondering if it was a family tradition and how lovely it was. ‘Do you do that every year?’

‘We needed to keep ourselves busy while we waited for our croissants,’ said Véronique with a smile that didn’t fool Alexandra for a tiny second. ‘Now that our breakfast has finally arrived, let us go through to the dining room. It is a special day, we should celebrate!’

‘Happy Christmas,’ Antoine said to her, in English, kissing her cheek.

‘Happy Christmas,’ she said back, wishing that Véronique wasn’t standing beside him.

Having found a basket for the croissants, viennoiserie and bread, Alexandra went through to the dining room. The table was set but Stéphie hadn’t had a chance to bring out all the little accessories to make it festive. So instead of a cosy breakfast in the kitchen, with the fire in the range crackling, and the coffee maker bubbling on the stove, the children’s opened stockings covering the table with toys, they had it sitting formally round the table of a chilly room.

‘Well,’ said David, after refilling cups of coffee and hot chocolate. ‘As you all know, Lexi and I have claimed today as English Christmas Day, and so we will follow the timetable.’

Although he was usually the most easy-going soul, Alexandra noted that his training as an actor allowed him to speak with great authority when he wanted to. It meant that Véronique said nothing and everyone else paid attention.

‘So, we’re going for a walk. We don’t have to go far, but we need to get out into the fresh air. Then we’ll have a light lunch, perhaps a glass of champagne, and after that we’ll play a parlour game or two. Our guests are invited for three o’clock.’

His enthusiasm was such that Alexandra wondered if he’d ever had a part as a games teacher; it made her smile.

‘But it’s so cold!’ said Véronique. ‘I was led to believe the climate was better in the south.’

‘Wrap up warm,’ said David bracingly. ‘You won’t feel it once you get going. Everyone meet by the front door in twenty minutes!’