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

The next few days went well and Alexandra was beginning to feel another three weeks or so would be fine. She hadn’t heard back from her relatives to say she had to rush to Switzerland and she found she enjoyed the pace of French provincial life. The only slightly worrying thing was that Maxime had telephoned to say that the nanny who was looking after her mother would not be returning. That, however, Alexandra decided, was a problem for Antoine to deal with; she couldn’t help.

She was in the kitchen writing labels for some pear jam she had made to use up the quantities of fruit she and the children had picked the previous day. Her feeling was, as a nanny, she should get her charges to do practical, outdoor things when she wasn’t reading with Stéphie or looking in the library for things she thought Félicité and Henri might like. She was just doing this last task, feeling pleasantly domestic, when the loud jangle of the doorbell followed by a volley of deep, terrifying barks from Milou broke the silence.

She looked at Félicité to see if she knew who it might be. She shrugged.

‘No one ever calls round,’ said Henri. ‘We’re too far away from other people.’

‘Not far enough, obviously,’ said Alexandra, putting down her pen. She was wearing one of the off-the-shoulder dresses in a bright print that she’d bought at the market and had tied up her hair in the sash that had come with it. A glance in one of the mirrors she passed showed a peasant in festival clothes – the opposite of the sophisticated young woman she had been in London. She’d also gained a bit of tan from being outside watching Henri and Stéphie climb trees.

So she was put out to be confronted by the two extremely elegant and formal women who had asked her who she was at the market. Although she was wearing her pearls, the real ones as opposed to a long string of fat, fake ones which had gone with her other luggage to Switzerland, she still felt a bit like a farm hand, not a proper nanny.

‘Can I help you?’ she asked politely in French.

‘May we come in?’ asked Grand-mère, speaking English.

Alexandra didn’t think she could say no so she opened the door wider. She was ushering them into a salon – a room that would have been lovely had it been used more frequently – when Henri appeared. Stéphie wasn’t far behind and then came Félicité.

‘Children,’ said Grand-mère. ‘I’m pleased to see you.’

Alexandra wanted to get them all settled so moved ahead and opened the French windows so that light filled one end of the room.

‘Do please sit down.’ She gestured towards the sofa and chairs. ‘Can I get you some refreshment?’ She continued in English. ‘Would you like coffee? Tea? A cordial of some kind?’ What did you offer middle-aged women at this time of day, which she guessed (the charming French timepiece on the mantel had stopped) was late morning.

‘A glass of wine would be acceptable,’ said Grand-mère.

Alexandra flew along the passage to the kitchen, grateful that she’d found a few wicker-covered demijohns filled with rosé in a larder. Henri had explained this wine was produced on the estate and just for people who lived there. She found a jug and filled it. There were good glasses in a cupboard in the salon, which she hoped weren’t too dusty. She found a tray and added a jug of water; she was fairly sure Félicité would ask for wine and she wanted to be able to dilute it. Possibly Henri, too. She had let them have well-watered wine a couple of times and she was aware Félicité might well try to show her up as a bad nanny.

When she arrived back in the salon, Félicité, Henri and Stéphie were sitting in a row opposite the two women. Alexandra realised she didn’t know either of their names and hoped it wouldn’t matter. One of the benefits of English was that you could go quite a long time without ever mentioning someone’s name. They didn’t know her name either, she assumed.

The wine-pouring seemed to take a lifetime and while it was performed no one spoke until Félicité said, ‘Can I have some?’

Alexandra put an inch of wine in the bottom of a glass and filled it with water. ‘Here you are.’

‘Mademoiselle,’ said Grand-mère imperiously. ‘Do please sit down. We need to consider your position here.’

Alexandra opened her mouth to say she was only there for a few more weeks but closed it again. Grand-mère might say something useful.

‘I know you’re not here permanently but the education of my grandchildren has been neglected too long already.’ She paused. ‘I have decided to move in here and take on the task.’

There was a chorus of horrified gasps from the children. Alexandra glanced at them and saw real anxiety.

‘But, Grand-mère,’ said Stéphie, ‘you hate it when we visit! You wouldn’t like staying with us!’

The two older women exchanged glances. Grand-mère’s friend raised an eyebrow, possibly acknowledging that Stéphie had a point.

‘Stéphanie is correct,’ said Grand-mère, ‘but I have many beautiful, fragile things in my house. Here you live …’ She hesitated, picking her words. ‘… in a very informal way.’

‘We do live informally,’ said Alexandra. ‘As befits a household of young people. I think you might not be comfortable here.’

‘We wouldn’t be comfortable,’ said Henri.

‘Henri,’ said his grandmother, ‘you’re forgetting yourself. For the education of my grandchildren, I am willing to make sacrifices. I will personally make sure my grandchildren do not grow up as savages.’ She gave Alexandra a very formal smile, as unlike an expression of pleasure as a growl. ‘So, my dear, it will not be necessary for you to continue here. I am taking over the household. You can go home.’

Stéphie gasped in horror. Félicité and Henri looked at each other in panic. ‘No!’ said Félicité. ‘I mean, Grand-mère, it is very kind of you, but really – we’re fine! We don’t need you to sacrifice yourself.’

‘I will be the judge of that, petite,’ said Grand-mère more kindly.

‘But you don’t like Milou!’ said Henri.

Grand-mère nodded. ‘Milou will live in his kennel outside.’

‘But he hates it outside!’ Henri protested.

‘He’ll howl!’ Stéphie added.

‘Then he will be put somewhere so we won’t hear him howl,’ Grand-mère went on relentlessly.

‘But why?’ wailed Stéphie, obviously upset.

‘Because, ma petite, you are growing up with no education!’

For the first time Grand-mère’s friend nodded in agreement but still didn’t speak.

‘But that’s not true!’ the little girl went on. ‘Alexandra is teaching me to read!’

Both women looked at Alexandra with interest. ‘Oh?’ Then they turned back to Stéphie. ‘Can you show us?’

‘I don’t think Stéphie would like—’ Alexandra broke in, unable to bear the thought of the little girl being tested in this public way. But before she could express her objection Stéphie got up eagerly.

‘Of course!’ she said. ‘I’ll go and get Milly-Molly-Mandy!’

Although the staircase was made of stone, Stéphie’s sandals could be heard slapping against the steps as she flew to fetch the book.

‘It’s kind of you to help the little one with her reading,’ said Grand-mère with surprising warmth. ‘But what can you do for Félicité and Henri? They will be obliged to take exams at some time. They may wish to go to university. Without my help they’ll know nothing of the classics.’

Swallowing her surprise that this conventional woman should be thinking about university for her grandchildren, Alexandra said, ‘I could possibly arrange for a Shakespearean actor to come and teach them. He’s an excellent teacher.’ She was confident about this; David had taught her all about antiques as well as teaching her to drive. ‘I feel it’s better to study with someone who can make the language really come to life.’

‘That would be good!’ said Félicité quickly, enthusiasm almost disguising her anxiety.

The two women had a quick conversation in French that was too fast and quiet for Alexandra, who was sitting across the large salon, to understand.

After they had stopped, no one spoke. Alexandra couldn’t tell if Félicité had heard what had been said or not. But her knee was bouncing up and down and she was pulling at her fingers in a worried way. Henri was staring at the floor.

At last Stéphie appeared with Milly-Molly-Mandy and Alice, the mended horse.

‘Here’s what we’re reading!’ she announced. ‘And here’s a horse that was broken. Alexandra mended it. I want her to stay!’

Alexandra was touched.

‘So do I!’ said Henri.

Félicité, naturally, was less eager to express her enthusiasm for Alexandra. ‘Her cooking is OK. And she can drive,’ she added.

Grand-mère became thoughtful. ‘Show me the horse please. Hmm,’ she said thoughtfully, having spent a long time examining it, holding it up to the light and squinting. ‘You’ve done quite a good job. I have a piece – a soup bowl, sentimental value only – I’d like repaired.’

‘Alexandra will do that for you, Grand-mère,’ said Stéphie. ‘But only if you don’t send her away.’

‘Let me hear you read, chérie,’ she said.

Stéphie did very well, Alexandra thought, pleased that the early-morning sessions had proved so productive.

‘That’s very good, Stéphanie,’ said Grand-mère, a little surprised.

‘Does that mean you won’t come to live with us?’ asked Stéphanie.

Grand-mère got to her feet and her friend did likewise. Alexandra had the strangest impression that Grand-mère was amused and possibly a little relieved, although her features didn’t move very much.

‘You say you know someone who can teach Shakespeare and other classic texts?’ she asked.

Alexandra nodded. ‘As I said, he is an excellent teacher and he could certainly provide references.’

‘And this person would be willing to come here and teach my grandchildren?’

Alexandra nodded again. ‘It would only be a temporary measure, until the children’s education can be more formally arranged.’

Grand-mère shrugged. ‘It would be better than nothing, I suppose.’

‘Do you think’, Alexandra asked hurriedly, ‘that the Comte would be happy with the arrangement?’

‘If you can vouch for this person, as I said before, it would be better than nothing. I will of course be keeping a very close eye on the arrangement. Hortense? On y va?’

‘That was nerve-racking,’ said Alexandra after she’d closed the door politely behind the two grandes dames.

‘You don’t want to leave early, do you?’ asked Henri.

‘Certainly not,’ said Alexandra. ‘I love it here.’ She had been very touched by her charges’ insistence that they wanted her to stay. She also thought of the life in Switzerland she was anticipating – living with formal relatives who told her what to do or a finishing school teaching her things she either knew already or had no interest in learning. Discovering how to support children without their parents along with living in France was an adventure. And she’d quickly become fond of prickly Félicité, Henri, helpful and stoic, and little Stéphie, young for her age but affectionate and loving. What she really liked, she realised, was the fact that they needed her.

‘Really?’ asked Félicité, incredulously. She was surprised and possibly disappointed; she’d tried so hard to make Alexandra’s life difficult.

Alexandra nodded. ‘Now I’m going to telephone my friend to see if he can come and teach you Shakespeare. Maybe we could put on a little bit of a play for your grandmother?’ A thought occurred to her. ‘Your grandmother seems very French but she speaks perfect English. Has she ever lived in England?’

‘She is English,’ said Henri, ‘but she prefers the French way of life. And maybe the weather.’

This made sense. And of course, she remembered now, the children’s mother was English. ‘And who’s her friend?’

Henri shrugged. ‘Mme Sologne. They go everywhere together.’

‘OK,’ said Alexandra. ‘I’ll go and telephone my friend David, then let’s take some bread and cheese and some fruit into the garden and have lunch.’