Alain’s family arrived mid-afternoon, Mireille and Christopher in one car, Adrien and the kids in the other.

The children got out a little grouchy from being cooped up, but that soon turned to excitement and curiosity about their new surroundings.

‘No Sabine?’ I asked Adrien.

‘She’ll be here later this afternoon,’ he said. ‘She’s driving down separately, from her parents at Rouen.’

‘Oh. Right.’

Mireille smiled. ‘So I got extra time with my gorgeous grandchildren.’

‘I had to work,’ Adrien explained.

I refrained from asking the obvious question: Why didn’t Sabine keep the kids with her in Rouen?

Instead, I showed them all into their gîtes. Gabriel and Chloe made a tour of theirs in all of three minutes.

‘We want to see outside,’ Gabriel informed Adrien while he was still bringing in luggage.

‘Don’t you want to unpack your things first?’ he asked hopefully.

‘Later!’ Chloe rebelled.

I stepped in. ‘Right, you two, if you take your bags to your room and show me your clothes for the wedding, I’ll show you every last corner of the garden. But after that, you have to unpack.’

‘Yay!’ They grabbed their bags, shot off, and were back in less than a minute.

We went into Mireille and Christopher’s gîte, where Mireille had the wedding outfits in clear plastic wrappers. She took them out carefully, sternly forbidding sticky little fingers from touching, and held them against each child in turn.

‘What do you think, Aunt Emmy?’ Gabriel asked.

‘I think you’ll look smart and handsome.’

‘As handsome as my dad?’

‘Handsomer.’ I put a finger across my lips. ‘But don’t tell him I said that.’

Gabriel thought that was hilarious, running around the room chortling as Mireille held Chloe’s dress against her.

‘And you, young lady, will be so pretty that everyone will want to dance with you,’ I told her.

Chloe’s apple cheeks blushed a delightful pink. ‘As pretty as Maman?’ she copied her brother as she always did.

‘Of course.’ I turned to Mireille. ‘Sabine did a good job with the tie and sash.’

Chloe started chasing her brother around the room, and Mireille shot them a pained look.

‘I’d love you to meet Rupert,’ I told her. ‘Why don’t you come over to the house? Have some tea with my parents while I show the kids around.’

Adrien appeared at the doorway. ‘Sounds like a plan.’

I led them over to the guesthouse, where Rupert was taking fresh cookies out of the oven.

‘Nice to meet you all. Welcome to La Cour des Roses.’ He came over to shake hands, even with Gabriel and Chloe.

Chloe giggled, and Rupert couldn’t help himself – he popped a kiss on top of her curls.

Hearing new voices, the dog came to investigate. The children were thrilled to see her again, and it seemed mutual, Gloria taking their effusive patting in her stride.

‘Tea?’ Rupert asked.

Christopher smiled. ‘Please.’

‘Why don’t you sit on the patio, and I’ll bring it out? Mireille, do you take yours black or with lemon?’

‘Milk, please. That is one of my husband’s English customs that has rubbed off on me.’

I went upstairs to tell my parents that their company was required. Back in the kitchen, Gabriel and Chloe were edging closer to the cookie tray, the sugary smell tantalising their little taste buds.

Rupert smiled at them. ‘They’re too hot. I don’t want you to burn your mouths. You can have one when they’ve cooled.’

Foiled for now, Gabriel asked, ‘Will you show us round like you said, Aunt Emmy?’

‘We’ll take the dog with us, shall we? That tail of hers is too dangerous near delicate tea cups and hot liquid. And I don’t trust her with those cookies.’

I watched as my parents settled themselves outside with the others, then took my posse around the side of the house.

‘This is the orchard. Look, those are apple trees. This area used to be bigger, but Rupert had that extension built on the side of the house.’

‘Why?’ The inevitable question from Gabriel.

‘Rupert needs his own rooms, away from the guests, for privacy.’

‘What’s privacy?’

‘Yes, what’s p- pivacy?’ Chloe echoed.

‘Er.’ Why do children ask so many questions? ‘Privacy is when you’d like to be on your own for a while, away from other people – if you need to think, or sometimes if you’re upset.’

Gabriel frowned. ‘Is Rupert upset? Because he wants privacy?’

‘No. Not at all.’ I revised my explanation. ‘Grown-ups who don’t know each other prefer their own space. So Rupert chats to his guests and cooks for them, but then everyone has their own room to go to. Like you two have your own bedrooms at home.’

Gabriel moved on to something less abstract. ‘Why do dogs wee everywhere?’ He pointed at Gloria, who was busy sniffing and peeing and sniffing again. Delightful.

‘Well, I …’

‘Where’s your room?’ Chloe asked. ‘For your p- pivacy?’

I crooked my finger and she trotted after me to my outside entrance. ‘In here.’

‘Can we see?’

The next ten minutes were a frenzy of picking things up and asking questions and moving on to the next thing, while I panicked about what I might have left lying around that I didn’t fancy explaining. When Chloe made a beeline for the bathroom, I decided a distraction was in order.

‘Would you like to see Rupert’s chickens?’ I asked in a tone of voice that suggested seeing some chickens was the most exciting thing in the world.

‘Yes! Chickens!’ Chloe clapped her hands.

Out we went, past the patio with a quick wave at gathered family, and on down the garden – a process that took forever as the children spied little nooks and crannies, hopping from flagstone to flagstone to find a bench amongst the flowerbeds or following a gravel path to a secluded sitting corner.

I’d forgotten how simple a child’s world can be, away from television and computer games. It was heart-warming to know that pleasure could still be derived from a spot of nosy exploring. Chloe pointed at the blooms, Gabriel measured himself against tall sunflowers, Chloe watched for butterflies, delighted if they settled, and ran away from bees until I explained to her that bees were our friends, although it was best not to get too near.

When we reached the chickens, Chloe clambered onto the fence that surrounded their run, pointing as the half-dozen birds fussed around and poking her fingers through the chicken wire.

I gently pulled her hand away. ‘In case they peck at you.’

‘What’s that?’ Gabriel indicated the small shed at the bottom of the run.

‘That’s where they sleep at night. Do you want to see?’

Nodding, he pulled at the gate.

I reached over to unlatch it. ‘Mind where you walk. Chickens can be messy.’ I shut the gate carefully behind us and pointed down at an example of chicken poop.

Chloe wrinkled her nose and took my hand so I could guide her, while Gabriel made a production of hopping about, trying not to tread in anything and startling the feathered ladies, who scurried off in all directions.

When we reached our destination, Gabriel admired the structure. ‘Not bad.’

During the quiet winter months when he dealt with jobs and repairs, Rupert had re-stained the walls their usual honey colour but changed the roof to sage green, so it looked like a proper little house now.

Gabriel crouched down with his hands on the ramp up to the doorway and peered inside at the straw and the roosting ledge that ran around the walls.

‘Let me see! Let me see!’ Chloe tugged at his T-shirt.

‘It’s small,’ Gabriel said as he moved back to let her look.

‘There are only six chickens. It only needs to be big enough for them to sleep and lay their eggs and be safe.’

‘Safe?’

‘We lock them in at night.’ I lifted Chloe out of the way so I could show them how the ramp became a door.

‘Why?’

‘So nothing can hurt them. Dogs, foxes, that kind of thing.’

‘But they have a fence,’ Gabriel pointed out.

‘Yes, but we can’t guarantee that something won’t get through.’

‘Doesn’t it annoy them? Being locked away?’

‘No. Their little house makes them feel cosy and safe from anything bad that could happen to them.’

‘Can’t they have a bigger house?’

‘They don’t need one,’ I repeated. ‘You should see my friend Madame Dupont’s chicken house. She had loads of chickens, so their coop was much bigger.’

‘How many chickens? Can we see them?’

‘Too many to count. They’re staying with a farmer now, because my friend’s house was damaged in a fire.’

‘I got poo on my sandal,’ Chloe declared pragmatically.

As we walked back up the garden, I congratulated myself on occupying forty-five minutes of the children’s time with an orchard, my bedroom and a chicken hutch. Who said the age of making your own entertainment was dead?

‘Did you enjoy seeing your granny and grandpa in Rouen?’ I asked.

‘Yeah.’ Gabriel scuffed his feet along the grass, stopping to pull a handful of leaves off a nearby willow tree. ‘But you said Mum might cheer up when she got to Rouen, and she didn’t. We weren’t there long, then Mum drove us back to Paris because she said she wanted to spend time with Granny and Grandpa in Rouen on her own.’

I glanced at his expression, but he was concentrating on shredding the leaves in his hands and sprinkling them onto the grass.

‘Well. Maybe she’ll have enjoyed that and be more cheery when she gets here, eh?’ I said brightly, sincerely hoping so.

While I ran Chloe’s footwear under a hosepipe round the side of the house, in a circumspect change of subject I asked her if she was looking forward to starting school soon.

She nodded, although she seemed a little worried about it.

‘Will all your friends from nursery be in your class?’ I asked.

‘Some. But not everybody.’

‘I’m sure you’ll make new friends quickly. Have you met your teacher yet?’

‘Yes. She’s nice. She has really long hair.’

I smiled. I wasn’t sure that hair length was the most important criteria for primary school teaching, but children had their own priorities.

‘How about you, Gabriel? Are you looking forward to going back to school?’

‘S’pose.’

I laid a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. ‘It’s always hard, going back after the summer. But you’d get bored if the holidays were any longer. Honest.’

We joined the grown-ups on the patio, where Mum and Mireille were chatting about the reception and who the various relative and friends on each side were, and Dad and Christopher were avoiding weddings altogether and discussing cars.

Sabine arrived at that point and was greeted with a rush of affection by Gabriel and Chloe.

‘Did you have a good week in Rouen?’ I asked her as Rupert went to make fresh tea.

‘Er. Yes. Thank you. I … needed a break.’ She ruffled the children’s hair. ‘Even from these two. But I am here now.’

‘Adrien and Sabine seem nice,’ Mum pronounced later that evening as she and Dad got ready to go out to eat.

I’d pleaded tiredness, so they were allowing me to stay home. What they didn’t know was that Alain was coming round after he’d taken his family out for an early meal.

‘Although I can’t imagine having a week away from your own children like that,’ Mum went on, judgement creeping into every syllable and making my nerves jangle. ‘I suppose people do that, nowadays, don’t they? We never did.’

‘Yup. Twenty-odd solid years of you and Nick,’ Dad agreed dubiously, making me laugh.

‘Gabriel and Chloe are delightful,’ Mum continued her verdict on the Granger family. ‘I still find Mireille a little uptight, mind you.’

It wouldn’t occur to my mother that might be anything to do with her harping on about the wedding arrangements, would it?

‘Christopher’s a decent chap,’ Dad said brightly, to deflect. ‘A bit quiet, though.’

‘I’m not surprised,’ Mum said. ‘It’s obvious who rules the roost in that marriage!’

By the time Alain arrived, I could have headed straight for bed. The long, deep kiss he’d saved up for me cemented the feeling. But since Mum and Dad weren’t back yet, we settled for tea in the kitchen so we would be around to greet Nick.

Alain studied my face. ‘Come outside for a minute.’

I looked at him, startled. ‘Why?’

‘Out of earshot.’

Frowning, I followed him halfway down the garden to a bench, tea in hand. ‘Why out of earshot?’

‘Because I’m going to ask you what’s up, and I want you to give me an honest answer. What’s up, Emmy?’

‘I’m tired.’ Knowing I wouldn’t get away with that, I added, ‘My mother’s driving me mad.’

He chuckled. ‘What’s new about that?’ Then sobered up. ‘Sorry. Why?’

‘She really put Bob through the wringer this morning, Alain. He was brilliant, and Dad and Aunt Jeanie helped, and Mum was persuaded.’

‘But?’

‘But I don’t see why he had to go through the whole rigmarole. We asked him to do it. It is our wedding, after all.’

‘Yeah. The problem is, it’s not our wedding entirely, though, is it?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘We relinquished control to a greater extent right from the start, didn’t we? And we had good reason at the time. When I proposed, you had far too much going on. A new life in a new country, a new job, setting up your business, learning the language. You couldn’t possibly have coped with the wedding as well.’

‘I know. But so many things have been a battle with her. And Mum keeps coming up with new problems, even this late in the game, and I’m fighting the same old battles over stuff I thought was already sorted. Like when she rang last week about going out to a restaurant the night before the wedding. And today, would you believe, she was still harping on about a blessing or vows.’

Alain made a face. ‘I hope you put her straight.’

‘I did, but it’s exhausting.’

He stood and began to pace in front of the bench. ‘You need to stand up to her more, Emmy.’

‘I do! Didn’t you hear what I said?’

He gave me a long look. ‘But do you, really?’

‘You know I do. I’ve spent months doing just that.’

He took a deep breath. ‘I admit you’ve done well over the wedding. God knows, if your mother had her way, we’d be getting married in Notre Dame with five hundred guests and a reception at Versailles. But those are surface issues. There’s a deeper problem here.’

My brows drew together. ‘What are you saying?’

He placed his mug carefully on the arm of the bench. ‘I’m saying that you only stand up to her over a few things that really matter.’

I looked at him, askance. ‘Of course I do. If I didn’t pick and choose my battles, we’d spend half our lives at loggerheads!’

‘I know why you do it. I just don’t think that’s the way it should have to be.’

My temper rose. I wanted sympathy, not a lecture. ‘Oh? And how do you think it should be, in this ideal world of yours?’

Alain ignored my sarcasm and sat beside me, taking my hand. ‘Your mother’s always been a forceful woman. It’s in her nature. I would say she doesn’t know how to be any other way, but I’m not sure that’s true. Nobody tells her she needs to moderate that side of her personality. It’s like water off a duck’s back with your dad. Nick’s fairly oblivious. But you …’

I glowered. ‘What about me?’

‘Emmy, you’re thirty-two years old. Don’t you think it’s time to tell her how much it wears you down?’

I couldn’t believe what he was suggesting. ‘Oh, and you want me to have a conversation like that, just before the wedding?’

He shook his head, exasperated. ‘Not necessarily, but I am saying it’s a conversation that needs to be had. Your relationship with your mother … You lock horns over something, one of you wins, you move on … That will never change unless you put your foot down over the basis of your relationship. She needs to know you’ve had enough – that you’re an adult, meeting her on the same level.’

‘You’re saying she still treats me like a child?’ I jumped up, disentangling my fingers from his, my eyes flashing fire. ‘Or that I’m acting like one?’

Memories flashed across my mind, a rapid succession of fights over everything from owning a hamster to homework, from burning incense to short skirts, from whether I deserved that maths detention to why I shouldn’t be best friends with Kelly down the street because she was a bad influence, from why I smelled of cigarettes to a definitive no, Zak was a totally unsuitable boyfriend and what on earth did I see in him?

Alain chose his words carefully. ‘Emmy, parenting is a never-ending condition whereby a parent always thinks they know what’s best for their child, even when they’ve long flown the nest. It’s instinct on your mother’s part. But for your part? You’ve left home, developed a successful career, started a new life in a foreign country, you’re running your own business, getting married – and yet you still deal with your mother the same way you always have. I’m saying it’s time to move on from that now.’

I curled my lip. ‘You’re saying I should grow up.’

‘You’re putting words in my mouth, Emmy. That’s not fair.’

‘What’s not fair, Alain, is that you’re bringing this up four days before the wedding!’

He tried to take my hands, but I pulled away. He raised an eyebrow but let the gesture pass and began to pace again, catching his head on the branch of a weeping pear and slapping it out of the way.

‘Emmy, we’ll be married soon. Starting a family. Your parents might be living half the year here. And, much as I love them, I think that sometime in the near future would be a good time to make it clear that this is no way to move forwards.’

‘That’s easy for you to say.’

He wheeled on me. ‘It is not easy for me to say!’ He didn’t shout, but he was raising his voice – something I’d rarely heard him do. ‘Do you think it’s easy for me to want you to have the best day of your life, the wedding of your dreams, but to have to watch you battle for every last sodding detail? Do you think it’s easy for me to know you’ll spend our married life in ongoing battles with your mother about everything from where we should live to how we should raise our children to what colour we should paint the lounge?’

‘I didn’t know you felt that way about my mother.’

Alain ran a hand through his hair. ‘I don’t. That was over the top. But I’m like you at the moment – most of the time I can live with it, but sometimes it builds up into something more.’ He paused. ‘Your dad’s not going to do this thing, Emmy. Nick won’t. It’s down to you.’

He came closer, and this time I didn’t pull away when he took my hands. Even though I was angry with him for his timing, the sensible part of my brain told me he was right. But I didn’t have the heart to continue this now.

I squeezed his hands. ‘What would you say if I asked you to shut up because I don’t want to have this conversation any more?’

Alain let out a surprised laugh. ‘I’d say you’re a wise woman who knows how to nip a growing domestic in the bud.’