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

Suddenly, it was mid March and the wedding was only a couple of weeks away. Time had rushed on without anyone noticing how that had happened. And in spite of everyone’s hard work there were still things that needed to be done before the converted farm buildings became comfortable, glamorous places to stay.

Alexandra had been busier than ever, doing the things that seemed to be nobody’s job – a bit of grouting here, painting a skirting board there, putting candles in the candle holders and of course buying things for the kitchens. In spite of the days ticking by remorselessly, she loved it. She was worried things wouldn’t be finished in time to receive guests, who, annoyingly, were arriving a few days before the wedding, but she had faith. David was a great ally and good at placing large mirrors, urns and in one case a bird bath in strategic places.

A couple of days before Jack’s family arrived, everyone was going to the dressmaker in Antibes that Lucinda had recommended, to have final fittings for their wedding clothes. Afterwards they were spending the night with friends of Antoine’s who had a chateau near Nice.

In spite of careful planning, when Jack, Penelope and Lucinda arrived in their car, so they could travel in convoy, no one at the chateau was ready.

‘Milou went missing last night,’ explained David to Jack through the car window. ‘Stéphie won’t leave until he’s found.’

Lucinda sighed deeply and Penelope declared she might as well get out of the car and use the bathroom. So everyone got out and Alexandra made coffee.

‘Milou is a big dog,’ said Antoine patiently to Stéphie, not for the first time. ‘He will come back. There is no need to be worried about him, p’tite.’

‘I expect he’s gone off hunting,’ said Jack.

‘He’s never done it before!’ said Stéphie.

‘Actually, he went off for a couple of hours a few days ago, and came back,’ said David.

But nothing that anyone could say would persuade Stéphie that her beloved dog wasn’t gone forever.

Eventually, Alexandra, who’d only been going to Antibes as an adviser anyway, said, ‘Stéphie, you go now, have a lovely time and don’t worry about Milou. I’ll stay and wait for him and if he’s not back by – say – six o’clock I’ll go and look for him. But he will be back by then because he’ll be hungry. You know how much Milou likes his dinner.’

‘You won’t! You’ll forget!’ said Stéphie.

‘How can I forget Milou?’ said Alexandra. ‘He’s going to keep me company this evening when David is out and you’re all away having the finishing touches added to your outfits and having a lovely time!’

Eventually, after this scenario was repeated in different forms many, many times, the two cars set off to Antibes, Stéphie finally having been convinced.

‘Are you sure you’ll be all right this evening?’ David was standing on the step next to Alexandra. ‘I’m going to an art exhibition but I could skip dinner afterwards and come back early.’

Although he never ever said anything about his love life to her, Alexandra knew that David was planning to see his friend in town.

‘I’ll be absolutely fine,’ she insisted. ‘I’ve got quite a lot I want to do today and am secretly very grateful to Milou for getting me out of the dressmaking trip. Now I can finish grouting the tiles in the bathroom in the stable. It’s my new favourite thing!’

‘Honestly, Lexi, I fear for your sanity sometimes …’

‘And then I’m going to come back, eat the most unhealthy, delicious food I can find and sink into a deep bath. Then I’ll wash the grit out of my hair and probably fall asleep.’ She paused and then remembered. ‘Provided Milou comes back.’

The two kittens ran up to her at that moment and rubbed themselves against her legs. ‘Why don’t you find your big brother, or uncle, or whatever Milou is to you! Being cute isn’t all that useful, you know!’

‘I’m sure he will come back,’ said David. ‘He’s gone hunting, or maybe courting. He’ll make a nuisance of himself and some farmer or other will throw him out, or telephone.’

‘I know. The farmer will telephone just when I’ve submerged my head in the water. But I’ll go and collect him if that happens. Now, I’ve got work to do! Don’t hurry back tonight. I’ll be in bed really early.’

‘Well, don’t forget to fully load up the range with logs if you want hot water. The immersion heater is on the blink.’

Alexandra tutted. ‘I knew I had to ask the electrician to do something else when he was here yesterday. Never mind, he’s coming again tomorrow. As long as it’s done before the guests arrive.’

Once he was satisfied, David went off and Alexandra went back to work. Her unexpected extra day felt like a gift. There was still so much to do before everything was ready.

When Alexandra returned to the chateau at lunchtime she spent some minutes calling for Milou, but only the cats came running. She went into the kitchen and ate some leftover croissants heated in the range, adding a few logs to the fire. Although she’d believed every word she’d said to Stéphie about Milou coming home when he was hungry, she missed him. She went out and called from all parts of the garden, willing his large black and white form to come bounding up.

But it wasn’t dinnertime yet, she told herself, and returned to her grouting.

Milou’s whereabouts was at the back of her mind all afternoon, and when the workmen all went home and she felt she could too, she hurried to the chateau quickly. There was no sign of him and no response to her cries.

She called from all parts of the garden again and then went inside, still not too concerned. The days were lengthening and it wouldn’t get dark for some time.

She was whisking eggs for an omelette when the telephone rang. She hurried to answer it, hoping it was a farmer with Milou, and also hoping his accent wouldn’t be too hard for her to understand.

It wasn’t a farmer; it was Stéphie. They’d had a very nice day making sure their dresses were perfect (they were) and shopping for little handbags to put handkerchiefs and confetti in; then they’d driven to Antoine’s friends, who had a very beautiful chateau. But she really only wanted to know about Milou.

Just for a second Alexandra considered lying to her, so that she would enjoy her evening and go to bed happy. But she couldn’t. Lying to children was hardly ever a good thing and if – please God, this wouldn’t happen – Stéphie came back tomorrow to discover that Milou wasn’t there, she would never trust Alexandra again.

‘No, darling, he’s not back yet. But it’s not his dinnertime just yet, is it?’

‘His dinnertime was half an hour ago,’ Stéphie said with a wobble in her voice.

‘But we all have dinner late sometimes. What are you having for yours?’

‘Lexi, don’t try and make me talk about food when all I care about is Milou.’

‘All right. I’ll eat my omelette really quickly and then I’ll go and look for him. And I’ll ring when I find him.’

‘However late it is?’ asked Stéphie.

‘Yes. Give me the number, and ask your papa to warn the people you’re staying with there might be a late call. Can you do that?’

‘Yes.’

They disconnected. Alexandra ate her omelette and tried not to think about the bath she couldn’t have. There was hardly any point in building up the range now.

Once she’d resolved to look for Milou, she was determined to make proper preparations. She wasn’t going into the woods as it was getting dark without a plan.

First, she found a good torch. Then some rope so she could make a lead for Milou if she located him. Somehow, she couldn’t bring herself to take his actual lead: it seemed like tempting fate. She packed half a baguette filled with butter and ham into her rucksack. And, although it would be heavy, she added a bottle of water. Matches, a candle, a ball of string. She put in a spare scarf (she didn’t know why she might need this but since she had to take a rucksack she thought she might as well pack it out with light things) and a tin cup. She took a newspaper and a packet of biscuits and some cheese.

She made sure she was wearing the right clothes. Sturdy shoes (although they didn’t have very thick soles), spare socks and an old anorak that had probably been Antoine’s, which she put over her jumper. She felt ready to climb Everest, let alone take a stroll up some gentle hills through the woods to find a dog.

Then she left a detailed note for David, should anything bad happen to her. She was determined no one would have any excuse to reproach her for being stupid. She even drew a sketchy map of where she intended to go, which was up a rough footpath to where they’d found the truffle.

Eventually she felt there was nothing else she could do, and heaved the rucksack on to her shoulders. It was heavy, but she knew the glass bottle with water in it was the heaviest thing, and that she shouldn’t go without that. She decided she’d get used to the weight of it quickly and went on her way.

She had just got going when she remembered she had forgotten to shut the hens in. She didn’t want Stéphie to come back to find they’d all been eaten by the fox, so she went and did it. Then she set off again.

She was tired after her day with the builders but she enjoyed the exercise to begin with. Then she looked up to see a big black cloud hovering over the forest where she was headed. For a second she debated going back for another coat, sturdier than Antoine’s anorak, but she couldn’t bear to after a long day doing physical work. She persuaded herself she’d be fine. She was going into a wood – the trees would protect her.

Alexandra walked up the hill, calling every few minutes, and although it was nowhere near being dark when she set off, once she got in among the trees, things changed. She considered using her torch, but although she had checked it worked when she took it from the small room where such things were kept, she didn’t know how long the batteries would last. She should keep it for emergencies. She didn’t allow herself to consider what that might consist of.

By now the forest was almost entirely silent apart from her calling, the occasional sound of her feet on the ground and the odd sudden rustle in the distance. It wouldn’t be wild boar, or anything dangerous, she told herself. It would be birds. Large birds. Boar wouldn’t be in the forest so close to civilisation. But she couldn’t forget the wild-boar tracks they had seen and examined when they’d been skating. Those tracks were very much closer to civilisation than she was now – although they were in the woods on the other side of the chateau, she told herself quickly. Anyway, her calling the dog was bound to scare them away. Wild animals almost always keep away from humans, given the chance.

At the same time as she had this more encouraging thought, she realised that walking and calling had made her thirsty so she decided to have a break. She found a rock to sit on and got her rucksack down from her back. She drank quite a lot of water and nibbled a bit of baguette. She considered finishing the water so she could get rid of the bottle but wisdom prevailed.

A distant memory of a Swallows and Amazons book made her leave a sign – ‘patterans’ they had called them, with a few twigs that were lying around. Anyone looking for her – it would be David – would know she’d been here.

She set off again.

It was only after she’d finished her water and shouted herself hoarse that she saw she’d climbed much higher than she’d realised. She was concentrating on setting one foot in front of another and it was only then that she appreciated it was almost completely dark. And then she heard a sound and realised it was rain, pattering on the leaves. This was not good.

She swung down her rucksack and got out her torch. If she had doubted the wisdom of her mission before, she doubted it even more now. If Milou hadn’t heard her by now he wasn’t going to. And climbing the hills in the dark and rain would only put her at risk. She already felt stupid for coming so far without thinking about this before.

She would switch on the torch and go back.

But going down was harder than travelling up had been. She slipped on stones and branches, and now the rain was finding its way past the leaves and adding mud to the hazards. She nearly fell several times. And then she did fall, dropping her torch, bumping down the hill, bouncing off rocks and tree roots. The thought was flashing through her mind that this was a much faster way to get down than walking was when she banged into a large rock and stopped. She was breathless and frightened, not daring to move in case she’d broken something.

She seemed to be sitting in a stream and realised that rain was running off the mountains and through the woods. But being wet and cold was the least of her problems. Did anything hurt? Eventually she decided she was all right – bruised, shaken, covered in mud, feeling like an idiot, but not hurt. But she didn’t move for a little while, as she let herself get over the effects of shock. It was going to be a lot harder without the torch.

She felt suddenly tearful at the prospect of making her way back through the forest in the dark when it was so slippery underfoot. But crying wouldn’t help. She had to get on.

‘Right!’ she said. ‘Let’s get going!’ Then she wished she hadn’t spoken her thoughts out loud. Her voice among the dripping trees sounded so lonely and vulnerable she almost wanted to cry again. The forest seemed darker than ever and the rain to be coming down harder.

She got to her feet and instantly they slid from under her, making her sit down hard on a rock. A few more tears came but she was determined to fight this useless self-pity. She had to move – she couldn’t stay where she was all night, sitting in a stream getting wetter and colder with every second.

She should have brought a walking stick, she realised. There was a good collection of them in the umbrella-stand by the front door but it hadn’t occurred to her that she might need one. She’d have to improvise.

There was just about enough light to see a fallen branch to her right. It was so slippery underfoot she’d be safer if she crawled to reach it but once there, she might be able to break off a bit to use as a stick.

She took off her rucksack, which kept banging into her and making things more difficult; then she got on her stomach and began crawling. It was horrible lying in the freezing cold mud and she could only move very slowly, pulling herself along on her elbows, and the branch seemed further away than she’d first thought.

She was just reaching out for it when she heard what sounded like stampeding cattle. Instinctively she curled into a ball, making herself as small as possible, pulling her hands under her body. A creature thundered past, inches from her. When she opened her eyes, she saw it was a boar, and racing after it was Milou.

‘Milou!’ Alexandra shouted as loudly as she could, but her voice was small and croaky. ‘Milou! Stop!’

She clambered to her feet so she could go after him, managed a few steps and then tripped on a log and fell again, but this time much further. She bumped and slithered down the hill and when she stopped everything hurt and one ankle was folded under and hurt a lot more.

This time she couldn’t muster any positive thoughts. She was in a pitch-dark wood, freezing cold and soaking wet, and it seemed to be raining harder by the minute. Her ankle was incredibly painful and moving in these conditions could be dangerous. Getting home no longer seemed possible. It would be better to just stay put and hope David would find her in the morning. It was either that or crawl home on her own. She swallowed a lump in her throat; crying would make her feel even worse. She pulled her knees up to her chin and rested her head on them and closed her eyes.

The time passed so slowly. Every minute seemed like an hour. Her ankle hurt more than any other part of her and the rest of her was badly bruised. She was stiffening and her muscles ached as well as her bruises. She was shivering convulsively.

Even if David did come looking for her, he wouldn’t be able to find her in the dark. He wouldn’t see her Swallows and Amazons patterans; he had no idea where she was. She was stuck in a French forest that was full of wild boar. A sob escaped her and sounded so feeble and pathetic more sobs followed. She huddled down closer to the ground.

Suddenly there was a loud snuffling and whimpering and then her ear was being licked. It was Milou!

‘Oh, Milou! I’ve been so worried!’ she said as she wrapped her arms round him, holding as much of him as she could, burying her face in his wet fur.

He seemed very pleased to see her too. He licked her ears and whimpered with joy, and she hung on to him. ‘You must stay with me now, Milou. I had a rope for you but I’ve lost it now. You’ll just have to stay by me and not go off after boar.’

She wished she hadn’t mentioned them. The memory of those galloping hooves missing her by inches added to her fear. But she had Milou now. He would keep her warm. They’d go back tomorrow and everyone would be so glad to see them. Well, they’d be glad to see Milou, she thought. They’d just think that she had been incredibly stupid.

They huddled together in the wood, Alexandra with her eyes tight shut, clinging on to the dog. He was her friend and source of precious warmth. Her ankle was throbbing and all her aches and pains surrounded her in a blanket of discomfort. But she had Milou.

Then suddenly she didn’t have him! He’d escaped from her arms and bounded up the hill. He must have heard another boar. Having him and losing him again tipped her over into despair. The one good thing about this desperate situation was Milou, and now he’d left her.

She looked up the hill, although she knew it was far too dark to see him, and saw lights dotted around like fireflies. There were voices, men shouting to each other in the darkness. There was someone there! Someone who could help!

‘I’m here!’ she shouted, her voice hoarse and pathetic, and then she realised she’d said it in English. ‘Je suis ici! Aidez-moi!’

She took a breath to shout again and then Milou was suddenly on top of her again, licking her face. And shortly behind him was Antoine.

Alexandra didn’t believe what she was seeing. Antoine was supposedly miles away in Nice, yet somehow here he was.

He didn’t speak at first; he just pulled her up from the ground and took her into his arms, holding her so tightly she could hardly breathe.

‘Oh, thank God, thank God! You’re safe!’ he whispered, adding endearments in French, pulling her head in under his chin. Then he seemed to come to. ‘I am so relieved to find you safe. When we found your rucksack I thought anything could have happened to you!’

‘But why are you here? You went to Nice!’ Alexandra whispered.

‘I couldn’t stay there when I realised you were going after that wretched dog. But he found me and led me to you, so at least we have to thank him for that.’

Alexandra started to shake uncontrollably. ‘I was so frightened,’ she said, ‘I thought I’d be here all night.’

‘We must get you home. Are you hurt in anyway?’

‘My ankle …’

‘Can you put weight on it?’

She tried and winced. ‘A little. It’s not broken.’

‘It may be sprained.’

‘We could use my scarf to tie it up.’ She put her hand up to her head and realised that she’d lost her scarf somewhere along the way. Now she was safe she felt even more aware of the danger she’d been in. She felt obliged to explain herself. ‘I tried to be sensible. I left a note. I left signs—’

‘And I found them. Can you walk?’

‘Of course!’ said Alexandra, her courage returning just a little. She tested her ankle again, and whimpered. ‘You may need to hold on to me. But can you walk? It’s so slippery.’

‘I brought a ski stick. I won’t let you fall. Now, can you hold Milou’s lead with your other hand?’

Antoine obviously hadn’t thought it was tempting fate to bring a lead as she had done. ‘I’ll put it round my wrist. He seems to want to stay close anyway. But if he hears another boar—’

‘There were boar? Oh, Alexandra! Were you frightened?’

‘No,’ she said, and then corrected herself. ‘I was absolutely terrified.’