A Wedding in Provence: From the #1 bestselling author of uplifting feel-good fiction
A Wedding in Provence: Chapter 5

Alexandra was woken in the morning by Stéphie, who appeared in the doorway of her bedroom holding Clive, her teddy. ‘Is it time to get up yet?’

Alexandra, who’d had a restless night and had just fallen into a deep sleep, reached out for her little travel clock and peered at it. It was hard to see in the dim light and it took a while before she made out that it was only half past five.

‘Not really,’ she said. ‘But if you go and get your pillow you can get into bed with me for a bit while I sleep a little more.’

Stéphie trotted off and was back before Alexandra had snatched more than forty winks. Stéphie had Milly-Molly-Mandy with her.

‘Will you read to me?’

Alexandra considered, her eyes still closed. ‘I think you could read it to yourself for just a bit. It’s very early.’

‘I can’t read,’ said Stéphie.

This made Alexandra wake up. ‘Can’t you? Not at all? How old are you?’

‘Nine. And I can read a little bit.’

Had Stéphie said she couldn’t read to get her attention, or could she really not read? ‘Why don’t you read to me? I like being read to,’ Alexandra said.

Stéphie stumbled along but was obviously struggling. Alexandra frowned. ‘Do you go to school?’

Stéphie shook her head. ‘It’s too far away. Our last nanny couldn’t drive.’

‘I can drive,’ said Alexandra. It had been one of the conditions of her employment. ‘Was your last nanny with you for long?’

‘Years and years. She used to do sums with me.’

‘What about Félicité and Henri?’

Stéphie was wriggling about and seemed not to be interested. ‘We did have a governess for a while and, after she left, they went to our neighbours, who had a tutor. But then they moved away.’

‘How did they get to the neighbours?’ Surely if the older children could be transported to a neighbour, they could go to school.

‘Bruno used to take them across the fields.’

‘How long ago?’ asked Alexandra. How long was it since these children had received a proper education?

‘I don’t know,’ said Stéphie, who obviously didn’t care.

Alexandra decided that because she was only there for a month, she couldn’t enrol the children in school in a foreign language and undertake to get them there unless they were very keen to go. However, she could help Stéphie with her reading. At nine she should be reading better than she was, surely. Alexandra had been a very early reader herself; it had been part of her defence system.

‘Would you like me to help you with your reading, Stéphie?’ Alexandra asked, struggling to a sitting position.

‘We haven’t got the proper books,’ said Stéphie.

‘Books that have words in them are the proper books,’ said Alexandra. ‘Let’s have a look.’

They were doing quite well and Stéphie was gaining confidence when Alexandra’s door was opened and a furious Félicité stood there. ‘You’re not supposed to teach Stéphie! That’s not a nanny’s job!’

Alexandra looked up and said calmly, ‘Well, thank you, Félicité. If you’d care to write out a list of my responsibilities and another of things I’m not supposed to do, I’d be very grateful. I’ve never been a nanny before.’

‘I like reading with Alexandra,’ said Stéphie. ‘She makes it fun.’

Félicité tossed her head. ‘OK, well, if you like it, you can. Now it’s time to let the hens out.’

‘Ooh,’ said Stéphie, abandoning Milly-Molly-Mandy and getting out of bed. ‘I like doing that. I like collecting the eggs too, unless any of the hens have gone broody.’

‘Off you go then,’ said Alexandra. ‘Let’s hope there are eggs. Then we can have them for breakfast.’

‘I only like them boiled with soldiers,’ said Stéphie. ‘And soldiers are difficult with French bread.’

‘Get the eggs; I’ll sort out the soldiers.’ Alexandra frowned. ‘Have we got any bread?’

Félicité, who obviously didn’t share Stéphie’s enthusiasm for collecting eggs, nodded. ‘I expect someone who works on the farm will leave some. There’s a little village nearby that has a boulangerie.’ She smiled coldly. ‘They know we haven’t got a housekeeper now, and only a new nanny.’

‘That’s good,’ said Alexandra, ignoring Félicité’s snooty attitude to her current profession. ‘When’s the market in the local town, do you know? I need to get some clothes. All mine are probably in Switzerland by now.’

‘Why are they in Switzerland?’ asked Félicité, her imagination caught.

‘I was on the way to Switzerland when I stopped off in Paris and decided to get a job and this is it!’ Alexandra wondered if she should add that she’d thought the job was in Paris, but didn’t. ‘As you know, it’s only for a month, while your nanny is looking after her mother.’

‘What were you going to do in Switzerland?’ asked Félicité.

‘Stay with my relations, go to a finishing school, something like that.’

‘But why would you go to a finishing school?’ asked Félicité, who appeared to know what one was.

‘That’s what I thought,’ Alexandra said. ‘Why? Which is why I chose to have a job instead.’

‘Although you’ve never been a nanny before.’

‘To be honest, I didn’t know the job was for a nanny. I just knew I had to cook, drive, speak French—’ Too late she remembered she’d been keeping the fact that she could speak French to herself. ‘A bit, I can speak French a little. And I thought, what better way to improve my French than having a job?’

‘Why did you think you could be a nanny when you hadn’t ever been one before?’

It was a fair question. ‘I reckoned I’d had lots of nannies and I could just do what they did, more or less. Although none of mine could drive or cook or speak French. Except one who taught me’ – she caught herself again – ‘a bit of French because she was French. She took me to Paris. I loved it.’ She hadn’t loved the fact that her nanny had spent a lot of time ignoring Alexandra and making love to her boyfriend, but she had got used to it and explored Paris on her own. ‘So, is there a market in the town?’

‘It’s today,’ said Félicité.

‘I’m going to get up now,’ said Alexandra.

‘I’ll see you downstairs,’ said Félicité.

Watching her and Stéphie leave the room, Alexandra felt she’d made a little headway with Félicité. Which was good. Félicité was intelligent and knew the house and the area – she’d be a good person to have on her side.

Down in the kitchen, Alexandra lit the fire in the range before she did anything else. It was a beautiful, golden day outside but there was mist about and a chill in the air. The kitchen was cold too, although there was a basket of eggs on the table, with some long narrow baguettes and a round, brown country loaf. There was also a large pat of butter wrapped in paper, and some cheese. Some helpful person had indeed been to the boulangerie for them.

Henri had brought in more logs and sticks and was looking at the food in a hungry way. ‘Can I have some bread and butter?’ he asked. ‘Bruno doesn’t usually bring bread. It must be because you’re new.’

‘How do you get it usually?’

‘You can walk over the fields to the village. I go sometimes. Or someone drives.’

‘Then of course you can eat it!’ said Alexandra.

There was an exchange of looks among the children which told Alexandra they had been expecting her to say no.

‘I’ll cook some eggs. What about French toast? That’s my favourite.’

‘What’s French toast?’ asked Stéphie. ‘I want boiled eggs.’

‘You can have boiled eggs if you want but French toast is nice. Is there any jam?’

‘Greengage jam, from last year,’ said Félicité.

‘I’ll get it,’ said Henri.

‘I must learn where everything is,’ said Alexandra, finally content that the range would stay in at least for a bit.

Breakfast was a cheerful meal although Alexandra did replace herself missing tea. She knew she’d have to get over that. She had concealed a packet of tea in with her clothes, now in Switzerland. But for a month she’d have to drink coffee, hot chocolate or the tisanes she generally found to be disgusting.

‘Now I think we should go to the market and hope they sell something I can wear,’ said Alexandra.

‘How will we get there?’ asked Stéphie.

‘We’ll go in the car,’ said Alexandra. ‘I wonder where it is?’ She looked at Henri, hoping his helpful nature would lead him to tell her. It did.

‘It’s in the barn,’ he said. ‘Shall I get it out for you?’

‘How old are you, Henri?’ asked Alexandra. ‘What is the legal age for driving in France?’

‘I’ve been driving round the property since I was small,’ said Henri, grinning.

‘In which case, do please get the car out for me.’

While Henri was doing this, Alexandra was in the kitchen checking she had everything she needed, including her handbag and purse, when Stéphie said, ‘What about Milou?’

‘What about him? Should I give him more food? What have I forgotten?’ Alexandra had shared a dog in London but she’d never been in sole charge before.

‘We have to take him with us!’ Stéphie insisted. ‘He’ll be lonely on his own.’

‘Couldn’t Clive look after him?’ asked Alexandra, hoping the teddy shared Stéphie’s caring nature.

Stéphie looked at Alexandra in disgust. ‘He’s a teddy bear! What can he do to look after Milou?’

Alexandra suppressed a sigh. ‘OK, but you’ll have to take care of him. Can you replace his lead?’ At least the dog had a collar.

But not a proper lead, she discovered. ‘He always just follows us when we run around outside,’ said Félicité as if a dog on a lead was an incomprehensible concept.

Henri gave a short blast on the horn of the car, adding to the sense of panic that was beginning to rise in Alexandra.

‘Well, let’s leave him here!’ she said. She was going to have to cope with driving a car she didn’t know to a place she didn’t know, with three young people she didn’t really know either. Adding a large dog was asking for trouble, in her opinion.

‘We can’t,’ Stéphie insisted. ‘Here, we’ll use my scarf as a lead.’

Alexandra sighed. ‘OK. Now into the car everyone. Henri? Can you move? Much as I’d like to, I can’t let you drive us to town.’

There was a fair amount of discussion – argument even – about who should sit where and in the end Félicité sat next to Alexandra in the front and the others went in the back. Milou took the middle, so he could lunge forward every so often. Apparently he didn’t want to go in the bit at the back designed for luggage or dogs; it was obviously too far away from the action.

To Alexandra’s relief the car was very similar to the one she had driven in London, owned by David, her antique-dealer friend. She’d learnt to drive on a car like this and so she set off with confidence.

It was a lovely sunny day now: the first autumnal mists had been burned off and it was starting to warm up. Alexandra wished she had something resembling a summer dress to wear rather than the formal, now grubby dress she’d worn so much in Paris. It had been fine for her interview but wasn’t right for the country. She had put a cardigan on over the top but realised she looked dressed for the city. More importantly, she felt wrong. However, she was confident that the market would have everything she needed. She began to enjoy herself.

Henri turned out to be very keen on giving Alexandra advice on how to drive. He leant over her shoulder telling her what to do and was obviously feeling the frustration that males often do when watching a woman do what they consider to be their job.

They got to the end of the drive. ‘Which way now?’

‘Left,’ said Henri.

‘We’ve never had a nanny who can drive before. Usually Mme Carrier takes us to the market if we go,’ said Stéphie, enjoying the novelty.

‘Just tell me if I start driving on the left,’ said Alexandra, picking up speed now they were on the road.

The little town of Saint-Jean-du-Roc wasn’t far away and soon Alexandra was crawling through the streets deciding where best to park. She found a spot and everyone got out, Stéphie hanging on to Milou. Milou was used to vast acreage to roam in and wasn’t really keen on being confined by a scarf, although he was very sweet-natured and clearly adored Stéphie.

Alexandra had brought a couple of baskets with her; she gave one to Félicité and took the other herself.

‘When we’ve got all the food we think we need I’m going to buy some clothes. While I’m doing that, you can have a good look round. Maybe, if you’re good, you can buy something for yourselves.’ She should probably have kept bribery until she really needed it, but remembered how frustrating and dull it could be shopping when you couldn’t buy anything. Although she doubted anyone could be bored here: it was so full of wonderful things and people.

‘I haven’t got very much money, though,’ she added belatedly. ‘I need to replace out how to get housekeeping money.’ She realised that she had been employed in a hurry before things she would need had been put in place. It made life quite tricky. Luckily Alexandra was resourceful. Mme Dubois should have asked her about those skills instead of worrying about her references.

‘Can’t help, I’m afraid,’ said Félicité, who didn’t seem quite as sorry as she should have been.

‘There’s a bank over there,’ said Henri. ‘That’s where you get money from, isn’t it?’

‘Yes,’ said Alexandra, ‘but you can’t just go in and ask for it. Still, I do have traveller’s cheques. I could cash one of those and use that until we replace out.’ She said ‘we’ deliberately. She wanted everyone to feel like a team.

The food stalls were eye-opening in their colour and variety. She longed to have David with her, or another friend, Meg, both of whom loved cooking and food. They’d be in heaven. Her current companions were a bit more blasé and wandered off as soon as Alexandra started her shopping.

There were stalls filled with grapes, melons, apples and pears. The colours were so glowing she imagined she could feel warmth coming from them. Peppers, which in England tended to be green and considered exotic, were red and yellow, and as big as a hand. Garlic bulbs the size of cricket balls, courgettes and aubergines like purple balloons. Even the vegetables Alexandra was more familiar with, like carrots, cabbages and potatoes, seemed bigger, better and more beautifully presented.

She had a basket full of onions, potatoes, garlic and carrots and was buying some peppers and aubergines when Stéphie appeared. ‘Milou has escaped.’

‘Oh, love!’ Alexandra knew there was no point in being angry. ‘Can you try and catch him? Then we can put him in the car until we’ve finished. It’s probably a bit confusing for him, being in this crowd.’

Stéphie disappeared again and Alexandra headed towards a cheese stall. There was no earthly point in being in France if you didn’t buy cheese, she decided. She was also tempted by stalls selling jam and honey, soap and lavender products. There were also cured meats and prepared foods, like cooked chickens, vats of bœuf bourguignon, cassoulet, and bouillabaisse, a rich fish soup.

She had just been offered an olive by an attentive stallholder when Milou appeared at speed, colliding with the man next to Alexandra and causing him to spill his carton of olives all over her.

There was a welter of apologies, both Alexandra and the man (who she had time to notice was young and very handsome) fighting for the privilege of taking the blame.

Stéphie and Henri arrived in Milou’s wake. Félicité joined them more slowly.

‘Sorry! He just saw you and dashed off!’ Stéphie explained. ‘He loves you!’

‘He hardly knows me,’ said Alexandra, continuing to speak French without thinking.

‘It was my olives that poured oil all down your dress,’ said the young man. ‘Oh, I know you!’ He addressed Félicité and her siblings and then turned to Alexandra. ‘I’m a friend of Antoine. Indeed, I am his lawyer.’ His remorse increased. ‘So I must apologise even more! I have ruined the clothes of a friend of my good friend le Comte.’ He took hold of her hand and kissed it. ‘Maxime de Marais at your service. Now, what can I do to make amends?’

‘Ah!’ said Alexandra. ‘I am so pleased to meet you. I have been given your name if I need help with anything. I had a letter with information on it saying I wouldn’t be able to get in touch with le Comte but you could do it for me.’

Maxime bowed. ‘And now I have covered you in oil. I must immediately make amends.’

Alexandra laughed. ‘It’s all Milou’s fault, but if you want to do me a favour, could you escort this lot to a café? I need a little time alone to buy clothes.’

‘Clothes? From here? Mam’selle, it is hardly an appropriate place …’ Maxime sounded outraged.

‘I need something now, not when I can replace the right shop,’ Alexandra said. ‘And don’t worry, I needed clothes before Milou’s accident.’

‘Then I will take the children to a café,’ said Maxime. ‘With the greatest of pleasure.’

As he didn’t immediately move, Alexandra put her hand in her bag, remembering the letter she had written to her relations on the train. ‘And if you could replace a stamp and a postbox for this, I’ll forgive you for everything.’

Maxime took the letter and then kissed her hand again. ‘We’ll be in the café across the road. I’ll order you a glass of champagne.’

‘What are we celebrating?’ asked Alexandra, smiling.

‘We’re celebrating our meeting,’ said Maxime. ‘Come along, children. And keep a hold of Milou. He’s done well this morning, but let’s not push our luck!’

A little burst of joy accompanied Alexandra to the stall she had spotted earlier. It sold cotton dresses in bright prints and pretty, off-the-shoulder styles. It was a peasant look that would have been very out of place in London, where styles were mostly rectangular, skirts were short, and geometry ruled. But here, in the autumn sunshine, gathered dresses with flounces and frills seemed appropriate. She bought two, and was impressed by the price and charmed by the free neck scarf that went in the paper bag along with the dresses. She discovered that flirting was part of the language and found it made her smile. It was respectful but enjoyable too.

A couple of stalls along from the one that sold dresses was a more sober set-up. Here traditional clothes for working men hung from hangers. There was the blue jacket that workmen wore in several shades of blue; there were trousers and jeans, long cotton coats and boiler suits.

It was the boiler suits that attracted Alexandra. There were famous pictures of women wearing these during the war and Alexandra felt there was a lot to recommend them to someone who was going to be living in a French chateau in the autumn. It took her a while to convince the stallholder that she wanted one for herself but amid much laughter she finally had one in her hands and held it up against her. The arms and legs were too long but she could roll them up.

She was just wondering if it was too long in the body when the stallholder said, ‘Would you like to try it on? Here? In my van. There is a mirror.’

‘Superbe,’ she said, and in no time she was in the van, taking off her oil-covered dress, climbing into the boiler suit. It was perfect! It needed a tight belt round the waist to give her shape and – a thought occurred to her and she found the neck scarf she’d been given and put that on. She turned up her collar and reapplied her lipstick. Great! She was delighted. She got down from the back of the van and paid for two boiler suits because, she explained to herself, she may never be able to get one again. They were useful and comfortable and, with the addition of a belt, she was certain, sexy.

She couldn’t be away from her charges too long so she decided not to look for a stall that sold belts: she’d make do with the wonderful scarlet scarf. She felt like a revolutionary and found her way to the café with an extra spring in her step. Alexandra had discovered that she liked flirting, and having Maxime to do it with, even for a morning, was delightful.

Her group had a good outside table, with an excellent view of the square and the market and Maxime looked up when Alexandra joined them. ‘Mon Dieu! You have changed, and somehow you have made the uniform of the French worker into a stylish outfit!’ His expression told her he wasn’t just being polite and Alexandra returned the smile.

‘Merci du compliment! Are we really having champagne?’ she said to Maxime as he handed her a glass. ‘How delightful! What are you having?’ she asked her charges.

‘I’m having champagne,’ said Félicité defiantly, obviously waiting to be told off.

‘Excellent,’ said Alexandra, thinking one glass would probably be fine for a fifteen-year-old, especially if they had something to eat.

The other two were drinking soft drinks. Alexandra clinked glasses with Maxime. ‘This is so kind of you. Can I invite you to have lunch with us? While we’re here, it makes sense to eat.’ If he accepted, she’d have to nip across to the bank to cash a traveller’s cheque; she hoped they were open.

‘I am ahead of you,’ said Maxime, bowing slightly. ‘I have already asked for menus. And you will be my guests, of course.’

‘That’s wonderful,’ said Alexandra, having taken a few sips of champagne. ‘I would have needed to get some cash and wasn’t sure if the bank would be open.’ She paused. ‘Although I suppose on market day, it would be.’ Although she’d been given half her wages, her shopping in Paris as well as in the market just now had made inroads into them.

Maxime, having made to give her more champagne before she put her hand over her glass, said, ‘You shouldn’t have to worry about money to feed these children. Antoine may not be a millionaire but he can afford to feed his family – and their nanny.’

Alexandra shrugged. ‘There don’t seem to be arrangements for me to have money for housekeeping. Or food, really. Although Félicité did say someone brings bread at the moment.’

‘And things from the farm,’ Félicité clarified. ‘But of course there isn’t a lot of variety.’

She sounded a bit jaded, Alexandra thought. It couldn’t be a great life for a teenager stuck away in a chateau, miles from young people her own age. ‘Stéphie told me you don’t go to school,’ she said.

‘Papa is going to arrange a new, proper governess when he gets home,’ said Félicité.

‘Don’t you fancy going to school?’ asked Alexandra. ‘I had governesses for most of my education but I did go to boarding school for a couple of years and I really enjoyed being with girls my own age.’ This was a slight exaggeration of course but she had felt lonely a lot of the time before she went.

Félicité shrugged, as if such things were not for her to think about.

‘I’d quite like to go,’ said Henri. ‘I love my sisters, of course, but I do miss playing games and things.’

‘I hated school,’ said Stéphie.

‘She was bullied,’ said Félicité, ‘and I got into a fight and decided to leave. It was then that Papa hired a governess. But she didn’t stay all that long.’

Alexandra had also got into a bit of trouble defending the girl everyone was picking on and she too had decided to leave before she was asked to. Her guardians had got her a very strict governess after that. Luckily she didn’t stay long either.

‘What would we like to eat?’ asked Maxime. ‘I recommend the salade niçoise. It is very good here.’

Alexandra was putting a perfect forkful of anchovies, olives and hardboiled egg into her mouth when she became aware of being looked at. Two elegant Frenchwomen were glaring at her in a way that was surprising.

‘Oh, look,’ said Stéphie. ‘There’s Grand-mère.’

To her absolute horror, Alexandra watched, helpless, as two formidable women in their fifties processed across the square towards her. Briefly she calculated her chances of getting through the tables and chairs to the toilette before they arrived, but they were determined women – she had no chance.

Félicité, Henri and Stéphie got up and greeted their grandmother politely. They nodded to her companion, who was obviously familiar to them. Maxime also got to his feet, and bowed; he knew them too.

The briefest of harmless conversation passed before Grand-mère turned her attention to Alexandra. ‘And who are you?’ she said in perfect, accentless English.

‘I’m the nanny,’ said Alexandra, who didn’t think her name was relevant – she was only the nanny for a month, after all.

‘Really?’ said Grand-mère, obviously surprised. ‘What a strange choice, if you don’t mind my saying. I must speak to my son-in-law about this!’

Then she and her acolyte turned and moved away.

‘That was interesting,’ said Alexandra brightly, trying to pretend she wasn’t remotely offended.

‘Don’t worry about her, she’s very snooty,’ said Stéphie kindly.

‘And you’re only here for a month,’ said Félicité. Although she probably hadn’t intended to sound sympathetic, Alexandra felt that her attitude towards her temporary nanny did seem to have softened a bit.

After that, it was a very enjoyable lunch. Maxime promised to address several things Alexandra had been worried about – the most serious being the need for some housekeeping money. Maxime gave the children some francs to spend in the market while he and Alexandra enjoyed a cup of coffee. He offered her cognac to go with it, but Alexandra shook her head. ‘It’s a lovely idea but I’m responsible for three young people and a dog in a car that’s still unfamiliar.’

He bowed. ‘Very sensible.’

They fell into a companionable silence, Alexandra enjoying the feeling of the sun on her face. A lot had happened to her in the last few days and she’d hardly had a moment to take it all in. Now, in the sunshine, with a very handsome, companionable young man, seemed a good time to think how well things were turning out.

A little later they set off for home. Once again, Stéphie, Milou and Henri sat in the back, and Félicité in the front next to Alexandra. Driving out of the town was easier than driving in had been as most of the stalls had gone and with them the people and the cars.

‘We must take the tape off the little horse when we get back,’ said Alexandra, in English. ‘And see if he’s mended now.’

‘He’s a girl!’ said Félicité crossly.

‘Is he? You can’t always tell with horses. What’s her name?’

‘Alice!’ said Félicité, obviously going for the first name that came into her head. ‘And I noticed at lunch that you suddenly spoke very good French for an English nanny!’ She was accusatory now.

‘I know! It’s amazing how quickly one picks up the language when you’re actually living in the country,’ said Alexandra.

Félicité suddenly developed an interest in the passing hedge, but Alexandra could tell that she was smiling.

When they got home Félicité and Stéphie rushed up to get Alice the horse. Everyone went to the kitchen and while Henri got the range going, Alexandra peeled off the sticking plaster.

‘There we are,’ she said. ‘That’s quite a nice repair, although I say so myself.’

‘It’s OK,’ said Félicité, although Alexandra could see she was pleased.

‘It’s wonderful!’ said Stéphie, and flung her arms round Alexandra’s neck and hugged her. ‘Thank you!’

Alexandra suddenly felt quite tearful.