When I got to Alain’s the next morning, he was on the phone to his mother. Again. I helped myself to coffee, only half-listening to his placatory tone.

Then that tone changed. ‘Of course. Put them on.’

I could tell immediately that he was chatting to his niece and nephew, the smile at his mouth readily reaching his eyes as he asked them what they’d been up to. Eventually, he waved at me to get my attention.

‘They want to speak to you, too.’

‘They do?’ Pleased, I took the phone from him. ‘Hi.’

‘Hi, Aunt Emmy.’

‘Hi Chloe. I didn’t know you were with Grandma and Grandpa this weekend.’

‘We came to France yesterday. Daddy is away so Mummy decided to bring us to see our other Granny and Grandpa in Rouen, but we stopped off here first. Grandma and Grandpa took us to see the Eiffel Tower last night. It was all lit up with pretty lights. We were allowed to stay up really late.’

‘Wow, Chloe, that sounds amazing. I’ve never seen that.’

‘Maybe I could take you when I’m older?’

I smiled. ‘That would be lovely. What else have you been doing?’

‘We went to the park this morning, but we’re going to Rouen soon.’

‘I hope you have a lovely time there.’ I heard a slight kerfuffle.

‘Gabriel wants to speak to you.’

‘Okay.’ When he came on the line, I asked him about the Eiffel Tower.

‘It was brilliant. We couldn’t go up it, but Grandma says we can when Chloe’s older. I’m old enough already.’

I chuckled. ‘So you are. Are you looking forward to visiting your other granny and grandpa?’

‘Yes. But …’

‘But what?’

He lowered his voice. ‘But Mum’s grumpy and cross.’

‘Oh.’ I wasn’t sure what to say that. I supposed occupying two small children for the whole summer holiday wasn’t all a bed of roses. ‘I’m sure she’ll cheer up once she sees her parents.’

‘Maybe.’ Gabriel lowered his voice even further, until he was almost whispering. ‘She was really mad with Dad for going away this weekend.’

Urgh. ‘Perhaps it was only that she hadn’t expected it. You know, because he decided last minute.’

‘I don’t understand grown-ups,’ he declared.

I couldn’t help but laugh at that. ‘Neither do I, half the time, Gabriel. Don’t worry about it. Have a good time in Rouen.’

‘Okay.’

I heard Mireille call him in the background.

‘I have to go now. See ya.’ And he was off.

Handing Alain his phone back, I told him what Gabriel had said.

Alain frowned. ‘He didn’t say anything like that to me, although Mum’s still harping on about Adrien. She says he’s been acting strangely lately. Doesn’t sound himself on the phone. Apparently, mothers know these things.’

I started to laugh, but stopped. Mothers did know these things. At any rate, mine always managed to guess exactly what was going on in my mind when I least wanted her to.

‘Hmmm,’ I said wisely.

Talk of the devil … My phone pinged, and I dug it out of my pocket.

‘Who is it?’ Alain asked.

‘E-mail from Mum. She tried to call me last night, but I had to put her off. I haven’t checked on the cake, and she’s on about the table favours.’ Realising I sounded a little hysterical, I stopped to take a breath.

‘Right. That’s it!’ Alain’s tone of voice was decisive with a hint of masterful as he took my phone and reached up to place it on top of the kitchen units – a place that involved him stretching his six-foot-plus a little further, but would involve me fetching a stepladder.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Is it a matter of life and death?’

‘No, but …’

‘Is it a matter of life and death in our eyes as opposed to your mother’s eyes?’

‘No.’

‘Then she’ll have to wait. For the rest of today, we are having a ban on all talk of your mother, your family, my family, the wedding.’ He took my face in his hands. ‘We spend half our time together on other people, Emmy. I want today to be about you and me, for a change.’

‘I won’t argue with that.’

‘Good, because we’re going on an adventure.’ He ran his gaze over my T-shirt, cropped trousers and canvas pumps. ‘You’re fine dressed as you are.’

That meant he didn’t have anything too weird planned, didn’t it? Trustingly, I followed him to his car. We drove for twenty minutes, away from town and out into the countryside, past fields reflecting golden in the sun, the trees lining one side of the road a thick, summer green, until Alain parked by a riverside and we walked along a dirt path to a clearing at the water’s edge, where there were a dozen overturned … Oh God … canoes.

‘You want me to get in one of those?’ I croaked.

‘Yup. Do you want to go in a double or one of your own?’

‘Er. Neither?’

‘Not an option.’ He gave me a quizzical look. ‘You’ve never been canoeing?’

‘No. Thank God.’

‘Why “Thank God”?’

‘Call me cautious, but I don’t want to find myself upside down in the water, trapped in a plastic boat, with my head banging against large rocks.’

The man in charge saw us and began to approach.

‘Emmy, I’m not taking you white-water rafting,’ Alain said. ‘This is a placid river. The boat is open, so you won’t be trapped in it if you do overturn – which you won’t. It’ll take your mind off your mother and the wedding.’ His last gambit? ‘And it’ll be cool on the water, with the trees shading it.’

That appealed. And we were here now. I nodded my head in mute agreement.

The attendant reached us. ‘Monsieur?’

Alain negotiated a canoe for two, and the man handed us life jackets. Perhaps he took one look at me and decided we needed them. Or maybe it was standard procedure. Either way, I was happy to put mine on.

He lugged a two-man canoe to the water’s edge and helped me in. It wobbled alarmingly. Alain made it wobble more as he settled in behind me, then launched into a conversation with the man about which direction to go and which forks to avoid because they would end badly for us. (I didn’t listen to the details. I was too busy panicking.)

Waving a cheery goodbye to the bemused bloke, Alain plunged his paddle into the water and pushed off.

‘Right, Emmy. Grip the handle of your paddle in one hand and the shaft further down near the blade with the other.’

‘Then hit you over the head with it?’ But I did as I was told. The river did look temptingly pretty. And cool. I bet it was even cooler when you fell in.

‘You are such a baby. Put the blade in the water ahead of you – keep it vertical – then pull it back towards you.’

I tried. The canoe moved. Yay! I did it again. And again. The canoe began to go in a circle.

‘A straight line would be good, Emmy. I’ll do one side and you do the other, and I’ll steer.’

‘Okay.’ It wasn’t easy at first, because Alain’s strokes were more powerful than mine, but he compensated, and we got into a rhythm.

I immediately took to the magic of it. The river wasn’t wide, and as promised, it was shaded by lush green trees along the riverbank. I loved the way the willows draped themselves over and into the water.

An old wooden footbridge spanned the river ahead, its structure weathered to grey, flowers draping over its sides from troughs. It was like going through a fairy tunnel as we drifted underneath it.

On the other side, my magical wonderland vanished. Two canoes were heading towards us, and I had no idea what to do next. I flailed around with my paddle.

‘Pull your paddle out of the water, Emmy,’ Alain warned as the canoe tipped about.

I didn’t quibble. With no time to manoeuvre, Alain held our canoe steady, allowing the other, more adept river-users to go around us.

‘Right, off we go again.’

‘What if we meet someone else? You said you’d steer,’ I accused.

He spluttered with indignation. ‘I can’t steer if you’re thrashing about like a madwoman. You nearly knocked my teeth out!’

‘Sorry.’

‘Swap to the other side so you even out the tiredness in your arms, we’ll get going again, then I’ll show you how to brake.’

When I’d successfully learned how to slow the canoe by putting the flat of the paddle against the water, I felt a little better, and with no other canoes in sight, I allowed myself to relax again. As we moved smoothly along, I enjoyed the rhythm and gazed at the passing riverbanks, catching glimmers of birds flitting past and wildflowers poking their heads out. Blissful.

‘What’s that?’ I asked Alain as we approached an open-sided structure – a tiled roof held up by sturdy wooden posts, with a floor of smooth stone slabs set right to the water’s edge.

He slowed the canoe. ‘That will be the old lavoir for the nearby village. It’s where the women came to do their laundry. It would have acted as a kind of community centre, too, I expect.’

I imagined a group of women on their hands and knees scrubbing away on the stones, and made a disapproving noise.

Alain laughed. ‘Makes you think of your automatic washing machine with more affection, doesn’t it?’

By now, things were going so well that Alain decided I needed a lesson on how to handle one of these things on my own.

‘Why?’

‘Because we could go in separate canoes next time.’

‘You don’t want to be in a canoe with me?’

‘You should know how to do it on your own, that’s all. Right. I’m not going to do anything. You go ahead.’

I started to go in a circle. The panic was back.

‘No, Emmy. Swap the paddle from side to side.’

‘That’s harder. Takes more work.’

‘Yup.’

Ever hopeful, he taught me a couple of steering techniques. The bend ahead was hard enough, but the family of canoes heading towards me past the bend was worse.

‘You have to steer!’ I shrieked.

‘No, Emmy. You can do it.’

I did it, alright. First, I steered us broadside to the river and the oncoming canoes. Then I made a diagonal beeline for the nearest bank. We didn’t crash into it. Oh, no. That wasn’t possible due to the overhanging trees into which we speedily sailed, ducking until we could duck no more and ending up tangled in the branches.

‘Aaargh,’ I managed.

Alain was too busy laughing to speak. I don’t know why. Being so much taller, he’d got the brunt of it.

‘It’s not funny,’ I snapped through a mouthful of leaves.

‘Yes! Yes, it is! How did you ever pass your driving test?’

‘A car’s different,’ I grumbled. ‘Get us out of here. I don’t want a bra full of caterpillars!’

When he’d pulled himself together, he manoeuvred us out with a lot of huffing and puffing and jabbing at tree trunks with his paddle. Back in the middle of the river, we plucked chunks of vegetation out of our hair.

‘Enjoying yourself?’ he asked serenely.

I would have slapped him, but I was too hampered by my life jacket to twist round far enough.

‘Time to turn back anyway,’ he said. ‘I don’t like the look of those clouds.’

I glanced up at the sky. What I’d taken for shade had become clouded over and threatening.

‘Turn back? Doesn’t that mean we’ll be paddling against the current?’

‘Yes, but this is a slow-flowing part of the river. In other places, they send a minibus to pick you up at the other end, but it’s not necessary here.’

Hmm. It might not have been geographically necessary, but my arms begged to differ as we turned the canoe – with me showing a minimal amount of competence, for which I was praised – and headed back. The going wasn’t much harder, as Alain had promised, but my arms were tired now. It seemed like ages until we reached the lavoir again, and we had quite a way to go beyond that.

Alain tapped my shoulder and pointed. A man in a wooden boat was rowing towards the opposite bank, his passenger standing at the back of the boat – a large, lanky black dog with ginger paws, muzzle and floppy ears that watched us warily. It made me smile.

A good ten minutes beyond the lavoir – too far to go back for shelter – the heavens opened and heavy rain began to patter all around us.

‘You can steer us into the trees now, if you like, Emmy.’

We hurriedly made for a large overhanging tree, ducking until we were under its branches. My T-shirt was wet where it wasn’t protected by the life jacket, but at least under here we wouldn’t gather so much water in the canoe. I didn’t fancy bailing out.

It was atmospheric, listening to the rain patter on the trees and watching it bounce on the river’s surface, each drop rippling out. Occasionally, large drops would work their way through the tree and down the back of my neck, but it was better under here than out on the water.

‘What if it doesn’t stop?’ I asked.

‘We’ll wait for it to die down a bit, then go. They only forecast infrequent showers today. I wouldn’t call this a shower. More like a deluge.’

Alain reached forward and put his arms around me, pulling me back against his chest, his life jacket acting as a pillow. Cosy.

I realised that I hadn’t thought about my mother or the wedding once since I’d wobbled my way into the canoe, and that my neck and shoulders were almost stress-free for a change.

Then I realised that realising I hadn’t thought about it was a kind of thinking about it, so I blanked it out before it could take a hold. Sunday was my day with Alain, and he was right. We needed a day off from it all.

After a while, the rain calmed and we pushed out from under the tree. By the time we got back to our starting point, it had stopped and we were beginning to dry out.

‘Did you find shelter?’ the man asked as he helped me out, then helped Alain haul the canoe back up onto the bank.

Alain answered. ‘Yes. It turns out that my wife-to-be is skilled at steering into trees.’

The man laughed, shouting ‘Congratulations!’ after us as we walked back to the car.

Back at Alain’s house, we took turns with hot showers, then sat out on the patio with a glass of wine, hoping the neighbours didn’t see us in our lazy robes at such an early hour of the evening.

I rolled my shoulders.

‘Pulled something?’ Alain asked.

‘Yes. You, or so I was led to believe.’ I waggled my engagement ring at him.

‘Ha ha. I meant your neck.’

‘No, it’s just aching. Tops of my arms too.’ I saw the concern on his face and smiled. ‘But it was fun. I like it when you surprise me with things like that.’

‘Good.’ There was a glint in his eye. ‘Because I still have a few surprises up my sleeve.’

I raised an eyebrow. ‘Glad to hear it.’

He cupped my neck in his hand and pulled me to him, kissing me long and sweet. He tasted of wine. Mmmm.

‘Want to find out what kind of surprises?’ he murmured.

I laughed, although it came out a little croaky as his other hand slid to the knot on the belt of my robe.

‘Alain, we’ve been together for a year now. I doubt you have those kinds of surprises up your sleeve.’

He gave me a long, disapproving look. ‘That’s exactly the kind of thinking that will turn us into an old married couple before we know it. Come inside, Emmy. Let’s surprise each other.’

I was happy enough to go inside, so I allowed him to lead me in.

But he didn’t aim for the stairs as I expected. Instead, he led me into the dining area, pulled the curtains closed and pushed all his accounting papers off the table with one sweep of his arm. Oh my …

The next morning, most of our guests decided over breakfast that they would go into town for the weekly market. It was something Rupert and I encouraged – we felt it showed small-town France at its best. Gavin was dubious but said he might take a look around.

Only Kathleen declined. ‘I have a headache and I feel achy. You go without me, Deborah. You love mooching around.’

‘You could have lunch with us afterwards, Deborah,’ Barbara, one of the other guests, offered.

Deborah acquiesced with a look of concern for her sister, and we got on our way.

In town, I left Rupert to make a start on the shopping while I went to the pâtisserie. Conscious that I still owed my mother a phone call and she would soon be on the warpath, I figured I ought to have something concrete to report. But as I stepped into the cool shop and drooled over the fresh strawberry tarts and gooey meringues, not to mention my favourite tartes au citron, it occurred to me that I wasn’t sure why the hell I was here.

The cake had been agreed upon weeks ago, when the manageress had spent a long session with my mother and me, showing us designs for traditional French wedding cakes – numerous variations on the theme of a croquembouche, traditionally a tall pyramid of cream-filled puff pastry balls or sometimes macarons, decorated with any combination of icing, chocolate, ribbons, even fireworks.

Mum had countered with images of traditional British wedding cakes on her tablet. She would have had it made in England, but even my mother knew that transporting a wedding cake to France was virtually impossible.

We reached an impasse. The manageress had looked at me and asked, ‘What would you prefer? French or English?’ and I’d looked thoroughly woebegone, until she’d said, ‘Wait. How about this?’

She’d rushed off to fetch a pad and pencil and began sketching. When she showed it to us and explained, we knew it was the perfect compromise. A large circular sponge, covered in white fondant icing in British fashion, would act as a base layer to a French pyramid of macarons in white, lilac and a deeper purple, with thin strands of ribbon draping down the pyramid to the base cake.

When the manageress approached me now and politely asked what she could do for me, I had to stop myself from saying, ‘I honestly have no idea.’

Instead, I tried to put myself in my mother’s brain (heaven help me), imagining anything and everything from the cake being an ugly monstrosity to the woman getting the date wrong or her schedule being eaten by a werewolf, then babbled something about my mother being nervous about the cake and could I see the sketch again?

She kindly obliged, reassured me that it would be magnificent and confirmed that they would deliver it by van to the château on the morning of the wedding (and yes, she had the date right). I thanked her profusely and left.

Miffed about the awkward conversation I felt my mother had put me through for no good reason, I trailed grumpily up to the stalls at the top of the market, where Rupert was still battling holidaymakers to complete his shopping. How long could it take someone in shorts and a straw sunhat to choose which cheese to buy, for goodness’ sake?

While Rupert queued, I texted Mum about my visit to the pâtisserie. She would have to make do with that for now. I was in no frame of mind to hold a civil conversation on the phone.

Ensconced in the café, the fragrant coffee soothed my senses enough for me to recount my first canoeing experience to Rupert and Jonathan, making them laugh – although I left out the sex-on-the-dining-table finale.

‘How’s Madame Dupont?’ Jonathan asked with concern afterwards.

‘She’s staying with her niece this week.’

Jonathan sighed. ‘I can’t imagine something like that happening at that time of life. My house may be humble, but it’s my home. It’s easy to take it for granted.’

I sipped my coffee. ‘That’s true, Jonathan, but you know, I think that house was becoming more of a burden than a help to her.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘Before the fire, she said a few things that made me wonder. The whole place needed refitting, but of course she doesn’t have the money to do anything major.’

Rupert tutted. ‘I should have asked her if she needed anything doing over the winter, when I had time.’

I shook my head. ‘You know as well as I do that she’s too proud to accept that kind of help. Besides, creosoting her fence is one thing. Replacing her kitchen and bathroom and heating system and boiler and heaven knows what is another.’

‘My DIY skills don’t stretch that far,’ Rupert admitted. ‘And I suppose she has plenty of family to help.’

‘She has, and they do, when they can. But they’re busy working and bringing up children.’

‘That cottage is isolated,’ Jonathan mused. ‘Especially with no transport.’

‘Maybe she’s better off with family for a while,’ Rupert said. ‘Give her a chance to regroup.’

Bob arrived late, and Rupert was set to order me a second coffee, but I declined.

‘I need to get this stuff back before it wilts.’ I pointed at all our bags. ‘And with Madame Dupont missing in action, I have too much to do. Might be best to do the daily room clean while everyone’s still in town.’

‘I can give Rupert a lift home on the bike later, if you like,’ Bob suggested.

The idea of Rupert riding pillion made me smirk. ‘Okay. But I want him back in one piece, preferably.’

Back at La Cour des Roses, I stored the shopping away and went upstairs to make a start on my daily whizz around the guest rooms.

I heard giggling coming from Kathleen and Deborah’s room. Good. Kathleen must be feeling better, if she was well enough to chat with a friend on the phone. Since I couldn’t do her room, I decided to start on Gavin’s – he was the least keen on the market and might be back soonest.

As I entered, I wrinkled my nose. That man could do with a lesson in less is more when it came to aftershave. I started on the bathroom, puzzled that it was still steamed up, wiping it down and chucking bleach down the loo.

I got to the doorway, ready to minister to the bedroom, just as Gavin came back into the room, wearing only a robe. It wasn’t tied as tightly as I would have liked, allowing glimpses of pale chest and thighs not reached by the French August sun.

I jumped a mile. As did he.

‘Gavin! I assumed you were out, or I never would have come in to clean,’ I blustered, keeping my distance.

‘Ah. Hmm. I was going out, but there was a change of plan. I mean, I didn’t feel too good, so I came back to bed for a while.’

‘Oh dear. Perhaps it’s the same thing that Kathleen’s got. I’ll get out of your way.’ I forced a smile, thinking none of this explained why he’d been outside his bedroom in his robe, unless …

‘Gavin, how long can it take to get a condom from your wallet, for God’s sake?’

Kathleen stopped short in the bedroom doorway, also in a robe, with nothing under it other than the usual gold glinting against tanned skin.

Gavin went the kind of colour that makes you want to reach for a blood pressure cuff. ‘Oh. Er. Ah.’

Well, this was exciting for a Monday morning.

‘I’ll leave you to it,’ I said clumsily. ‘Excuse me.’ With as much dignity as I could muster, I walked past Gavin to the doorway, where it took Kathleen a few stricken seconds to work out that she needed to move in order for me to exit.

‘As you were,’ I said as I rushed into the next room, knocking first to avert any further unwanted discoveries.

Collapsing in the tub chair in the corner, I closed my eyes, then grinned at the idea of Deborah lunching with Barbara and Keith, oblivious to the fact that Twin Sister Bling was pain-free and busily bonking Mr Aftershave. And I couldn’t help wondering if Gavin would manage to recover his … poise.

When the two available rooms were done, as I went downstairs I heard a moan from behind Kathleen’s closed door. Since I doubted it was down to the flu, I assumed Gavin must have got over his embarrassment satisfactorily, after all.