I dropped down to sit on the grass, panicking about what I’d done.

Kate came out and sat beside me, her arm around my shoulders. ‘You had to tell her about the baby?’

‘Yes,’ I said, flatly. ‘She said she won’t say anything.’

‘You both said a lot more than that, by the look of it.’

‘Yes. Some home truths.’

‘Do you want to tell me?’

‘I can’t, Kate. I don’t want to relive it. I just want to blank it out. Do you mind?’

‘Not at all. Besides, I can probably guess.’ She pulled me close and held me tight.

‘Was Sophie upset by my mother?’

‘I think she thought it was inevitable. Ellie’s taken her to Ryan’s, then Ellie will go on to the dress shop.’ Kate studied my face. ‘You don’t look well. How about a lie-down?’

She pulled me to my feet and led me to my room, where I sat on the edge of the bed. ‘But my mother …’

‘It was an accident waiting to happen, Emmy. Leave her to think it over. You won’t achieve anything now, while you’re both so het up. Lie down. Try to rest.’

I nodded, and she left.

But I didn’t get the chance to follow her instructions. Two minutes later, Dad came barging in.

‘Emmy, what the hell are you playing at? Your mother’s in a complete state!’

That did it. The tears I’d held back in front of Mum, even in front of Kate, would not be stopped now. My father had rarely lost his temper with me when I was younger. Never in recent years.

‘Oh, for crying out loud, not another one.’ He grabbed a box of tissues from the bedside table and shoved them at me, then perched on the chaise longue by the window, his fingers steepled at his knees.

‘I said some awful things, Dad.’

‘I know. Your mother told me.’ He looked me in the eye. ‘But they needed saying, if you ask me.’

My eyes opened wide in surprise.

‘Emmy, I’ve been married to your mother for thirty-six years. I’m not blind to the way she is. Most of the time, it suits everyone well enough – or at least, it does no harm. But she’s been overstepping the mark for months with this wedding. I tried to rein her in, but I suppose I hoped it wouldn’t come to this. Not before the day itself, anyway.’

I dropped my head into my hands. ‘What am I going to do?’

He came over and put his arm around me. ‘You’re going to disappear from La Cour des Roses. Go to Alain’s. Have some time to yourself – take a nap, whatever you need. When he gets home, he can talk some sense into you while I try to do the same at this end with your mother.’ He grunted. ‘And I know who’s got the easier task. Stay the night. Come back in the morning refreshed and ready for the last lap of the race.’

‘I can’t abscond, Dad. What about Kate?’

‘Mum and I are out with Alain’s parents tonight, if your mother can pull herself together. Kate will be fine with Rupert and Nick, I’m sure.’

I battled with what I saw as my duty, but my desperate need to be elsewhere won. I nodded.

‘Good girl.’

At Alain’s, I texted to let him know I was there, then lay on the grass in the back garden, my arm flung across my eyes to keep out the bright sun. Despite my upset – or perhaps because my body and brain needed relief from it – the pleasant warmth lulled me into a troubled doze.

When I came round, it was early evening. Dazed, I checked my phone, but Alain hadn’t replied to my text. Surely he would be home soon? I poured myself a large glass of wine and began to cobble together something for us to eat.

While I was cooking – in the loosest sense of the word – I got a text from Ellie.

It’s only a maybe re. the dress. They’re sympathetic, but limited time-wise. Hoping to take out two darts to widen the bodice, let out side seams as far as they dare and fix the tear, but can’t guarantee to get it done in time. Shop customers come first.

I texted straight back. I understand. Thank you. I really appreciate it.

Five minutes later, she replied. I’ll help Sophie choose something else from her wardrobe, in case it isn’t repaired in time. But I don’t want to bother her until I know how it went with Ryan. I gather you had a row with your mum. Are you okay?

I wasn’t sure how to reply to that. In the end, all I managed was, I will be. Need some time to myself. Thank you for asking.

Of course, when I said I needed time to myself, I didn’t mean totally to myself. I meant with an understanding man – but he didn’t seem interested in making an appearance.

By seven, I began to worry. Where was he? I knew he often had late meetings with clients who couldn’t see him during working hours, but I didn’t remember him mentioning anything about today.

Underneath my mild anxiety, I felt unreasonably cross. Why hadn’t he bothered to reply to my text? The whole idea of coming here was to relax and bask in a little sympathy, not to hang around, wondering where he was.

I jumped when my phone rang and snatched it up, but it wasn’t Alain. It was Sophie.

‘Hi. Did you tell Ryan?’

‘Yes. Oh, Emmy, he is up to the moon!’

‘See, we told you he would be.’

‘You were right. Thank you for making me face up to it. Now I can be happy about it.’

‘Did you hear from Ellie?’

‘Yes. She explained about the dress. I will see what I can substitute, if I have to.’ She didn’t sound confident that she would find anything.

‘Can we tell people about the baby yet, or are you keeping it quiet?’

‘Ellie already asked me that. Ellie, who likes to keep everything private for herself.’

‘Everybody loves baby news.’

‘The cat will soon be out of the sack, Emmy. Ryan wants to tell his parents this evening. Once they know, everyone in Pierre-la-Fontaine will soon know, n’est-ce pas?’

I breathed a silent sigh of relief that my mother knowing wasn’t the end of the world.

As though she could sense the turn my thoughts were taking, Sophie said, ‘I am sorry I spoiled your mother’s plans, Emmy.’

‘Bugger my mother’s plans! I couldn’t care less about the dress. I’m too happy for you and Ryan.’

‘Thank you. See you soon.’

And she was gone.

I smiled at Sophie’s pleasure. I hadn’t doubted Ryan’s reaction for one minute, but it was still a relief to know how supportive he was being.

Talking of supportive men … Staring into the pan on the hob, I knew that if my pasta concoction was going to be edible at all – already doubtful – it couldn’t wait for Alain much longer. And neither could I.

I reached for my phone. When there was no answer on his mobile, I tried his office landline. It rang for a while before he picked up.

‘Hi, Emmy. Everything alright?’

No, it is not alright. ‘I wondered when you were coming home, that’s all. I made supper.’ Kind of.

A pause at his end. ‘Are you at mine?’

I allowed myself to roll my eyes. After all, he couldn’t see me. ‘Yes. Didn’t you get my text?’

‘I – er. No. Sorry. I put the phone on silent. Haven’t checked it. I’ve been caught up in something complicated. Needed to concentrate.’

I ground my teeth a little. ‘Oh. So when will you be back?’

‘I … I was going to work late tonight. I need to work late, if I’m going to finish all this by a reasonable time tomorrow. A client dropped in unexpectedly today with a problem, and it set my schedule back.’ He waited for me to say something. When I didn’t, perhaps sensing hostility in my silence, he added, ‘I’m sorry, but I didn’t know you’d be there. We didn’t have any plans for tonight.’

That was true. But he could at least have checked his phone. ‘I know. It’s just that I had words with Mum, and I needed to get away from La Cour des Roses for a while. I was hoping you’d be here.’

‘Oh, no, I …’ I heard him stifle a sigh. ‘You’re okay, though?’

No, I am not okay. But what could I say? ‘Yes, this is a dire emergency, drop everything and get back here because I need a shoulder to cry on’? I was a big girl now. I was in one piece physically if not mentally, I was tired, the pasta thing was ruined, and I was going to be upset about my mother all evening whether he rushed home or not. But if he did that now, I would have to add guilt to the mix. If he had stuff to do, he had stuff to do. No point in him wearing himself to a frazzle tomorrow, the day before the wedding.

‘I guess.’

‘Emmy, I can’t leave this right in the middle, but I’ll be home as soon as I can. We can have a glass of wine and you can tell me all about it.’

‘Okay. See you whenever.’

I clicked off with a pathetic chin wobble and drained my wine glass, then peered into the pan. No way was I eating that. Besides, I wasn’t hungry any more.

Refilling my wine glass, I grabbed a large pack of crisps from the cupboard and took them both upstairs to bed.

Halfway down the crisps, the salt and grease had only made me feel sick. That and the horrible knowledge that I’d seriously fallen out with the person who had brought me into this world, whether everybody thought she deserved it or not. I suspected Mum wasn’t enjoying her evening much, either, although at least she would have had a better dinner than me.

I flung the crisps to one side and picked up my wine, glaring into it, affronted. This wasn’t right, drowning my sorrows in Muscadet instead of pouring them out to my beloved … who was apparently more interested in his spreadsheets than the mental and emotional wellbeing of his bride-to-be.

To top off my fun evening, I indulged in a lengthy and cathartic sobbing spree.

I was asleep before I’d finished the second glass.

When I woke, I felt crap. Not hungover – I hadn’t drunk that much – but with a headache and a hollow sensation in my stomach, presumably due to the lack of nourishment yesterday.

Scrubbing blearily at my eyes, I glanced at the time. Six o’clock. Alain wasn’t in bed, although his side looked crumpled.

He appeared two minutes later with a mug of tea, waited while I sat up, placed it in my hands and perched next to me on the bed.

‘What time did you get home?’ I asked.

‘Nine. I didn’t expect you to be asleep that early.’

‘I was tired,’ I said grumpily.

‘I saw the wine. The crisps. That pan downstairs. Didn’t you eat?’

‘No. Wasn’t hungry.’

‘Are you mad with me?’

‘If you had to work, you had to work.’ My misery broke. ‘I wanted you home, Alain. I’d had an awful day. I seriously fell out with Mum. I texted you but you ignored it, I rang and told you I needed you, but you didn’t come!’

He looked taken aback at my outburst. ‘I told you I never saw the text, and I’m not a mind-reader, Emmy. You only said you’d had words with your mum. That’s nothing new. I asked if you were okay, and you said you were.’

‘I could hardly say anything else, could I? Not when you’d made it patently obvious that you had better things to do.’ I knew I sounded sulky, but I felt rubbish and I couldn’t help myself.

Alain nudged my mug to my lips and took a sip of his own tea. ‘Why don’t you tell me about it now?’

Sensing his impatience, I almost refused – I wasn’t in the mood – but that would have been childish. He needed to know about the situation with my mother before the wedding eve supper at La Cour des Roses tonight.

Grudgingly, I began my tale, starting with Mum’s presumption and high-handedness in inviting the girls over for a dress inspection, but it soon became a torrent. I hadn’t even got to the argument with her when he stopped me, his hand gripping my arm.

‘Wait! Sophie’s pregnant?’

‘Yeah. Great news, huh?’

‘Wonderful.’ The first smile I’d seen from him that morning told me he was thrilled. ‘But I interrupted. Go on.’

I managed it without tears, my tone monosyllabic and tired. I was all cried out from last night.

‘When you phoned last night, I had no idea how bad it was,’ he said when I’d finished. ‘I was caught up in my work. Desperate to finish off by the end of today. I guess I wasn’t listening properly.’

I thought back to what I’d texted, what I’d said to him on the phone. I’d wanted him to know how upset I was without actually telling him. All I’d said was that I’d expected him to be home. That I’d had words with my mother. He was right – I shouldn’t expect him to be a mind-reader.

‘I should have been clearer.’

‘And I should have read between the lines. I assumed you’d only had a tiff. I had no idea it was so serious.’ He sighed. ‘If I hadn’t said anything to you about her the other night … I didn’t mean for you to … you know.’

I thought about telling him the truth – that his words earlier in the week had lodged in my subconscious. That if I thought about it, I could lay some of the blame on him for what had happened. But we were already on eggshells.

I shook my head. ‘I’m not sure I was thinking about that when I let rip. I was so mad, I probably would have said it anyway.’ And there was some truth in that, too.

‘Your dad’s right. It needed saying.’

‘Maybe. But not two days before the wedding. Now my mother won’t be talking to me on my wedding day.’

Alain tried to lighten the conversation. ‘Is that a bad thing?’

But it wasn’t funny. ‘Alain, I need to go, but there’s something else I have to talk to you about first.’

‘Oh?’

As I washed my face, brushed my teeth and threw on my clothes, I told him what Gabriel had told me about his parents shouting at each other all the time.

Alain’s face fell. ‘They do seem to be going through a bad patch. Mum was right – something’s going on there.’ He followed me downstairs, where I found my sandals in the kitchen and put them on.

I glanced at the sink. ‘You washed up? You didn’t eat that, did you?’

‘Er – no. Dare I ask what it was?’

‘A pasta sauce thing. I made it up.’

‘So I gathered.’

At the door, I said, ‘By the way, you owe me ten euros. Mum finally slipped.’

‘Crikey. Things have got bad!’ He took a note from the hall table and slipped it into my pocket. But I could tell his jovial tone was forced, and his comment about things getting bad could be taken in all sorts of ways.

As I left, we finally smiled at each other – but it was a smile that said we were both wounded that we were so out of sync.