When I got back to La Cour des Roses, Rupert was in the kitchen enjoying a cup of tea with Kate. Gloria had her head in Kate’s lap; a sucker for whatever fondling and stroking she was willing to dole out. She wasn’t allowed in the kitchen.

‘Hi, are you okay?’ Kate asked immediately.

‘I’m fine,’ I lied, and when they both gave me a look that told me they didn’t believe a word of it, I qualified, ‘As fine as can be expected.’ Considering I’ve seriously fallen out with my mother and I’m not far from the same with my husband-to-be. To change the subject, I asked Kate, ‘Did you hear from Sophie? Or from Ellie about Sophie?’

‘I did.’ She inclined her head Rupert’s way with a look that said, Can we tell him?

I nodded.

‘What? What are you plotting?’ Rupert asked suspiciously.

‘Not plotting. We have some news for you, that’s all.’ I told him about Sophie’s pregnancy.

He stood and did a little jig, right there in the middle of the kitchen, and my heart immediately lifted.

‘Is that what the row with your mother was all about?’ he asked, peering round the kitchen door to make sure she wasn’t lurking in the hall or on the stairs. ‘The bridesmaid dress?’

‘Not the whole thing, but it’s what set it off.’

Rupert shook his head in despair. ‘I don’t see what all the fuss is about. It’s only a dress.’

I gave him a despairing look. ‘Rupert, this wedding is like a finely tuned machine, and my mother is the chief mechanic. In her eyes, there can be no loose screws at this stage.’

Rupert snorted with laughter. ‘I think you’ll find it was a loose screw that caused the problem in the first place!’ And off he went to phone Ryan to congratulate him.

When Mum and Dad appeared for breakfast, my mood immediately plummeted again as my worst fears were realised – Mum wasn’t speaking to me, other than the necessities.

Determined to remain calm, I filled her in on the progress with the dress and the fact that Sophie’s pregnancy would soon be common knowledge.

She merely nodded, then asked curtly, ‘Will you still go into town to check on the cake?’

‘If you want me to,’ I tried to mollify. ‘But it’s all sorted, and the pâtisserie will deliver it to the château tomorrow.’

Mum rubbed at her temples. ‘All we ever saw was a sketch, Emmy. What if it’s not right?’

‘Why don’t you and I go, Flo?’ Dad suggested, perhaps hoping the activity might pull her out of her mood.

But she shook her head, then winced. ‘I have a banging headache.’

Great. Ladle on the guilt, why don’t you?

Kate looked from one to the other of us. ‘I’ll go with Emmy, Flo.’ When I opened my mouth to protest, Kate gave me a glare. ‘I’d love a coffee in town.’

Mum patted Kate’s hand. ‘Thank you, Kate. You’re a good girl.’ With the unspoken implication that I wasn’t.

As we left, Mum called out, ‘Don’t accept anything shoddy. If it’s not right, tell them.’

In the car, Kate burst out laughing. ‘I presume we have no intention of complaining about the cake?’

‘No – for two good reasons. Firstly, I can’t imagine there’ll be anything wrong with it. We used that pâtisserie last year for a golden anniversary cake, and it was spectacular. Secondly, what the hell does my mother expect them to do, if it’s not right? Start again, with twenty-four hours to go? These things take days to make. Sometimes, I think she’s on another planet.’

‘You wish.’ Kate glanced across at me. ‘Your dad told me the details of what happened with your mother yesterday. Are you okay?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Did you have a good evening at Alain’s?’

I wasn’t in the mood to lie. ‘I needed to be away from the guesthouse, and he needed to know what’s going on. Only …’ I told her how the evening had really worked out.

‘Alain was the one who wanted me to stand up to my mother,’ I finished as I negotiated the road into town. ‘So I did. But then he wasn’t there for me when I needed him.’

‘It sounds like a misunderstanding to me,’ Kate soothed as I found a small parking spot and squeezed the car into it. ‘You’re both tired and overwhelmed. Bound to happen. You were feeling bruised after your row with your mother, and Alain didn’t realise. But that’s not like him, Emmy. Don’t be too hard on him. At least you talked it out this morning.’

‘I wouldn’t say talked it out, exactly. It felt … like we weren’t really us. When I left, things weren’t right between us.’

As we strolled towards the centre, Kate linked her arm through mine.

I sighed. ‘And on top of that, this thing with my mother … I don’t know if she’ll forgive me ever, let alone in time for the wedding.’

‘You can’t be responsible for her actions, only your own. And I agree with Alain and your dad – it needed saying. Has done for a long time. Yes, the timing’s unfortunate, but your mother brought that about by going too far yesterday. You would have held your tongue otherwise. Don’t blame yourself.’

Kate was saying all the right things, about my mother, about Alain. But what my head told me, and what my sinking heart told me, were two different things.

‘Oh, I love this place,’ Kate exclaimed when we reached the main square, turning on the spot as she drank in the fountain, shops and cafés.

I smiled. ‘Pâtisserie first, then I’ll buy you coffee in the square.’

‘Done.’

When we entered the shop, the manageress immediately came around the counter to greet me and tell me my cake was beautiful, then ushered us to a side counter. ‘I will be one moment, and you will see.’

She and an assistant carefully brought the cake through on a trolley.

Kate and I gasped. The other customers in the shop came over to see. They gasped, too. It was a work of art.

The manageress gave me a knowing look. ‘You got the best of both worlds, after all, Mademoiselle Jamieson, did you not?’

I beamed, a smile that started out genuine but soon had to be forced to hide a sudden wobble as I thought about the wedding, only twenty-four hours away, and the way Alain and I were with each other this morning.

‘I see from your face that you like it,’ she said, pleased. ‘But will your mother?’

I looked at her anxious face and immediately reached out my hand to touch hers. ‘How could she not? Thank you so much!’

Leaving her to take the cake away – heaven only knew how they would get it to the château in one piece tomorrow – Kate and I made a beeline for the nearest café.

‘That cake is magnificent,’ Kate said as we grabbed a table near the fountain and ordered. When I told her how much it cost, her jaw dropped. ‘Ouch! It’s worth it, though.’ She looked around the square. ‘It’s a shame the market isn’t on today. I loved all those stalls last time. Everyone compliments that handbag I bought. I still can’t get over that corset stall, though. Who wears stuff like that nowadays?’

Knowing she was chattering to take my mind off my troubles and loving her for trying, I gave a pointed stare at her upper half. ‘Old ladies who once had a figure like yours but need sturdy scaffolding nowadays. Don’t mock.’

When her coffee was placed in front of her, Kate indulged in her favourite sport – people-watching.

‘That fountain is fantastic. And the flowers. I like the red ones best. Ooh, look at that woman’s trousers. Talk about a perfect cut. I wonder where she got those? Have you seen that dog? It’s no bigger than a rat! It’ll be lucky not to get stepped on. I don’t know how that bloke dares be seen out with it. It’s hardly macho, is it? Mmm, I wonder what kind of cake that woman’s got in that big box? Oooh, he’s a bit of alright, isn’t he?’

This stream of verbal consciousness stopped as she took time to admire the man she’d spotted.

‘That’s the mayor,’ I told her.

‘Really? I always pictured mayors as short and tubby, with ridiculous chains around their necks.’

‘Not ours.’

Patrice Renaud was smart-casual as usual, in chinos and a dark blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up, revealing tanned arms.

‘How old is he? Is he married?’ Kate gushed.

‘Mid-forties, maybe. I believe he’s divorced. No doubt his wife got sick of women drooling at him from pavement cafés.’ I gently pushed under Kate’s chin to close her mouth. ‘Stop it. The last thing you need is an affair with a playboy Frenchman.’

‘Oh, I don’t know. I wonder if he’d like that French maid outfit I bought when my relationship with Jamie was flagging?’

The mind boggled. ‘If you can tear your eyes away from our illustrious mayor …’

But Patrice had spotted us. He came over and bent to kiss me on both cheeks.

‘Emmy. How are you? All ready for your wedding tomorrow?’ All this in French, in a swoonworthy accent. I could sense Kate melting in her seat.

‘Yes, thank you. We’re in town to check on the cake. This is Kate, a friend from England. She’ll be acting as a witness tomorrow.’

‘Enchanté, Kate.’ He politely shook hands, although I suspected Kate would have been fine with kisses, too.

‘Er – merci,’ Kate stammered.

‘I will leave you to discuss your cake,’ he said to Kate’s cleavage, where her boobs were currently doing their best to fall out of a gypsy blouse. Dragging his eyes away, Patrice turned to me. ‘It will be an honour to marry you and Alain tomorrow, Emmy. I look forward to it.’

‘Thank you.’

And he was gone, back to the mairie and his beloved red tape.

‘Mmmm.’ Kate sighed. ‘Gosh, he’s handsome.’

‘Yes, he is,’ I agreed. ‘Now, change the subject before you combust with lust.’

‘That little brother of yours is handsome, too, nowadays.’

‘I know, but then I’m allowed to say that. He’s enjoyed seeing you again.’

‘Yeah. It’s been good to catch up with him.’

And that was when the realisation hit me. Sure I must be wrong, I thought back to Kate’s arrival, when Nick had greeted her with such enthusiasm, then fast-forwarded through the times I’d seen them together since.

I grabbed Kate’s arm. ‘Oh my God.’

‘What is it?’ she asked in alarm.

‘Nick hasn’t stared at your boobs once.’

‘What?’

‘Passing glances at most.’

‘Emmy, what are you talking about?’

‘Remember you were complaining that men always look at your chest when they’re talking to you and not your face?’

‘Ye … es.’

‘Nick doesn’t.’

‘That’s because he’s known me for years. They’ve been there since I was thirteen, after all. It doesn’t mean anything.’

‘Yes, it does. It means he likes you, Kate. It means he likes you. Person-Kate, not boobs-Kate.’

As I let that sink in, I said, ‘Better get on. Things to do, cakes to report on, mothers to throttle.’ And immediately my brain switched back to worry mode.

When we got back to the guesthouse, Ryan was dragging tools from his car, the dog at his heels.

We rushed over to give him a congratulatory kiss. The dog got excited about the effusive greetings and joined in by slobbering on his bare knees.

Ryan was always a smiley kind of guy, but I’d never seen a smile like the one we got now – one that lit his whole face and shone from his eyes.

‘Thanks. I still can’t believe it. It’s pretty amazing.’

‘Yes, it is. You’re going to be a great dad, Ryan.’

‘I hope so. But I need to find work here over the winter. And I might need to up the ante with the summer work.’ He hesitated. ‘Emmy, I know you don’t officially do websites, but you did a great job improving Rupert’s. I don’t have one – I’ve always relied on word of mouth – but I wondered if you’d consider doing something simple for me. I’m no good at that stuff. I’d pay you, but I can’t afford a proper person.’ He made a face. ‘And that came out wrong.’

I laughed. ‘I’d be happy to, if it can wait a few weeks. And I don’t want payment. Count it as a favour to a very good friend.’

He took my hand. ‘Thank you. Emmy, will you …’ His voice hitched. ‘Will you look after Sophie for me, if I do have to go back this winter?’

My heart jolted for him. ‘Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. Surely if everyone you know asks around for you, something’ll come up?’

‘I hope so. I spent the morning making a few enquiries, and Mum and Dad are on it, too.’ He patted the boot of his estate car. ‘This isn’t big enough. I had been thinking about investing in a van.’ He gave us a lopsided grin. With his forthcoming expenses, we all knew that van might be a long way down the line. ‘Oh, and I’m sorting the lavender for your bouquets right now. I’ll take it straight to the florist before she closes for lunch.’

‘Thanks, Ryan.’

He turned to go, then looked back, his dimples flashing. ‘Sophie told me about the dress. I’d better stay out of your mother’s way, if she’s going to hold me responsible!’

I smiled, but with the way things were between me and my mother, and the delicate tightrope Alain and I were walking, my heart wasn’t in it.

As we walked to the patio doors, Kate tried to joke me out of my worry. ‘You know you were saying how much gardening appealed to you nowadays?’ She looked pointedly over to where Ryan was getting started, his shirt off, shorts frayed, muscles rippling. ‘Me, too.’

I elbowed her lightly in the ribs. ‘He’s spoken for.’

I continued to worry all afternoon that things would still be stilted between Alain and me for our wedding eve supper.

But when he arrived and I politely asked if he’d got everything finished at work, his answer was a kiss and a smile, and his tone was bright enough as he said, ‘Yep. There’s a message on my answering machine and voicemail telling everyone to sod off till I get back from my honeymoon. I’m raring to get married and enjoy the weekend with everyone, then whisk my wife away for a fortnight of unbridled lust.’

I raised an eyebrow.

As did Aunt Jeanie, who was too close to avoid overhearing. Oh dear – and Mum, who leaned towards her sister-in-law and said, ‘Twenty years, Jeanie. You’d have to be twenty years younger.’

I laughed along with Alain and Jeanie, but my heart sank a little as I wondered if Alain’s show of cheerfulness might be just that – a show. Still, if he was making the effort to brush over this morning’s awkwardness, that raw uncertainty of feeling between us, then the least I could do was join him in that effort.

Rupert was busy organising a simple but delicious cold spread of charcuterie, salads, olives, breads, fruit and desserts, and I was given no opportunity to talk to Alain about our differences as we were roped into helping ferry nibbles and drinks out into the garden.

When Ellie arrived, she answered my question before I could even ask it. ‘Sophie’s dress is a going concern, you’ll be pleased to know. It’s not a perfect fit, but at least Sophie can breathe now.’

I let out a sigh of relief. ‘Thank goodness. And thank you, Ellie, for dealing with it.’

‘You’re welcome.’

‘Is Sophie coming tonight?’ Alain asked.

‘No. She doesn’t want to risk getting too tired. Ryan’s insisting on looking after her.’

I smiled as I imagined the two of them curled up in Sophie’s tiny flat, adjusting to the idea that they would soon be parents. It would have been nice if Alain and I could have had two minutes to ourselves, too, but that wasn’t to be.

I looked round as Gabriel and Chloe piled out of their gîte. ‘Time to greet the troops.’

Everyone settled in the garden for a drink, while Chloe and Gabriel played with the dog. It was still hot, with no breeze, so they were soon red-faced.

‘Aunt Emmy, can we go and see the chickens?’ Gabriel called over.

‘Only if someone goes with you.’ I started to get out of my seat.

Alain stopped me. ‘I’ll go.’

But Rupert began to bring the food outside, which Chloe and Gabriel decided was more interesting than the chickens – as did Gloria.

‘Time for you to go inside,’ Rupert told her firmly. With nibbles everywhere, that dog was not to be trusted, and those large, doleful eyes fooled nobody except the children.

‘Does she have to go in?’ Chloe’s chin wobbled.

Rupert’s resolve crumbled, and he ruffled Chloe’s curls. ‘We can tie her to a bench instead. But no feeding her any titbits, Chloe. We don’t want her to be poorly.’

‘I promise.’ She bestowed him with a smile that would melt the hardest heart.

Jeanie tutted. ‘You’re such a soft touch, Rupert.’

She and Ellie helped Rupert play host, topping up drinks and plates, while everyone else relaxed. Mostly.

‘It’s too hot,’ Mum complained, fanning her face. ‘I hope it won’t be this hot tomorrow. We’ll all wilt.’

‘Can’t control the weather, Flo,’ Dad chided mildly, his tone suggesting he knew damned well that my mother wished she could control the elements like she controlled everything else.

Nick had stationed himself next to Kate on a bench, where they chatted away like long-lost fr … Well, like long-lost soulmates, actually.

‘Do you remember that hamster in Mrs Jones’ class?’ Nick asked her. ‘The one with the gammy leg?’

Kate shook her head. ‘You were two years behind me, remember. We had a gerbil called Boris. Until the caretaker accidentally switched the heating off over the coldest weekend of the winter and it froze to death.’

They were so at ease with each other, it was like being back at home in our teens again.

Adrien looked tired and snapped at the children from time to time, gaining him nothing but frowns from Sabine.

‘Gabriel, stop aggravating that poor dog!’ he called across, when his son was only stroking her. Gloria’s tongue was hanging out with the heat, but she didn’t seem to mind his attentions.

Ten minutes later, it was Chloe he was cross with. ‘Can’t you eat anything without spreading half of it down your front?’ He tried to make it sound light-hearted, but it fell flat and only made Chloe’s eyes brim with tears.

Mireille cast anxious glances their way, only half-listening to Mum regaling her – yet again – with full details of the château and the menu, along with hints aimed at me, no doubt, about how much time she’d spent organising it all.

‘I still think you could have had a blessing, Emmy,’ Mum said pointedly after Mireille had tried to make it a two-way conversation by telling Mum about a recent wedding she had attended which had, unfortunately for me, included a church blessing.

I opened my mouth to respond, but frankly, my mind was a blank as to what I could say on the subject that would be new.

Mireille, realising she had put her foot in it, tried to backtrack. ‘But you know, Flo, such things do not suit everybody …’

Mum only huffed. It seemed that Chloe and Gabriel weren’t the only ones who were going to have a parent on their back all evening.

When I went into the house to fetch more wine, Dad followed me in. ‘She’ll come round sooner than you think, Emmy. Trust me, the minute she sees you in your wedding dress, all will be forgotten and she’ll be the proud mother-of-the-bride.’ He delivered a reassuring kiss to my cheek.

I managed a wobbly smile. ‘I hope so. Thanks, Dad.’

Jeanie came bustling in. ‘Less of that soppy stuff, Dennis. They’re waiting for wine out there. And you need to do something about that wife of yours. Steer her on to another subject. Christopher looks ready to throw himself off the nearest cliff.’

Dad winked at me. ‘For better or for worse, remember?’

Back outside, Sabine decided to take the children back to the gîte – they were too hot, she said, and they needed showers and an early night before the big day tomorrow. Adrien reluctantly went with her, and everyone else settled, the atmosphere more relaxed without the children running around – and without Adrien and Sabine glaring at each other.

Alain leaned towards me, his gaze intent. ‘I presume you won’t let me stay over?’

‘Certainly not. You’re not allowed to see the bride on her wedding day.’

‘I’ll be glad when we’re married and you’re moved in and I can see you whenever I want.’

I laughed. He’d sounded rather proprietorial, and I wondered if he was joking around, trying to lighten the stiffness between us. Then I figured he may just have meant what he said in a very literal sense. Then I decided that over-analysing was overrated.

I kept my tone light. ‘We have two whole weeks in the Spanish sunshine coming up,’ I reminded him, touching my lips to his, while reminding myself that this time tomorrow, we would be married, and there was nothing I had ever wanted more.

And then the shouting impinged.

‘What the …?’ Alain looked across the courtyard towards the gîtes.

Mireille sat forward in her chair as though to hear better, as the noise flowed through an open window – Adrien shouting, Sabine shrieking, the kids crying.

‘Merde,’ Alain murmured. ‘That sounds nasty.’

The door opened, and Gabriel appeared in the doorway in his pyjamas.

‘You come back here now!’ Adrien yelled from inside.

‘No! Not until you stop shouting!’ Gabriel had his hands over his ears.

Mireille jumped up from her chair and stormed over there, Christopher hot on her heels. Alain and I followed. From the corner of my eye, I saw Dad lay a hand on my mum’s arm and shoot her a warning look.

Gabriel threw himself into Mireille’s arms, sobbing. ‘Mummy and Daddy aren’t going to live together any more!’

The colour drained from Mireille’s face. ‘What? Mais non, Gabriel.’

‘I heard them. Mum said she couldn’t stand it any longer and Dad said he couldn’t stand her any longer and …’

‘Okay, sport.’ Christopher lifted Gabriel into his arms and cradled him against his chest like a baby.

Adrien came to the doorway, his expression thunderous, and reached out his arms. ‘I’ll take him.’

Christopher shook his head. ‘Not a good idea, son. Not if you’re going to carry on making that racket. Where’s Chloe? What’s going on?’

Adrien stood aside. Sabine was in the lounge, her face livid, Chloe clinging to her legs.

‘We do not need an audience for this, Adrien,’ she snapped. ‘It is not going to change anything.’

Alain looked from one to the other. ‘Is what Gabriel said true? You’re splitting up?’

‘Yes,’ Sabine said definitively. ‘Not that it’s anything to do with you!’

We stood in our motionless tableau, an awkward silence filling the room as we all realised her statement wasn’t quite true.

‘We’re getting a divorce,’ Sabine declared, defiant.

Mireille’s lips trembled. ‘I knew it.’ She turned to Christopher. ‘I told you things weren’t right.’

Adrien cast Alain and me an apologetic look. ‘You weren’t meant to know. Not before tomorrow. I’m sorry you found out this way. We were hoping to hold it together till after the wedding.’

Sabine seemed to gather herself a little, and her tone softened a fraction. ‘I’m sorry, too.’ She lifted her chin and glared at Adrien. ‘But sometimes there is a limit to how long you can keep on pretending.’

Alain was silent, his fingers shaking lightly against his thigh, and my heart went out to him. Adrien had betrayed his trust, having an affair with Sabine and taking her away from him. They’d had a family, and he’d had to be civil when it was the last thing he felt like. And now, all these years later, Sabine was leaving his brother, too.

Adrien must have been thinking the same thing. ‘Alain, this is more awkward for both of us than it should be.’

But Sabine had had enough of this attempt at civility and our intrusion into her private affairs. ‘You have to go now,’ she announced to the crowd gathered in her doorway, her voice brittle. ‘Adrien and I have more to discuss.’

‘To discuss? Or to shout at each other?’ Mireille asked her, lips tight.

Sabine gaped at her, affronted. ‘That is not your business!’

Christopher looked pointedly across at Chloe, still glued to Sabine’s legs, then down at Gabriel in his arms. ‘Yes, it is. We’re their grandparents and we don’t feel this is appropriate for them. Mireille and I will take the children over to the guesthouse, well away from the upset. Let us know when you’re calm enough to have them back without distressing them any further.’

He looked at his wife and she nodded, moving into the gîte to prise Chloe away from her mother.

‘Come with Grandpa and me, Chloe, while Mummy and Daddy calm down. Adults argue sometimes, but you mustn’t worry about it. Come along. I’ll ask Rupert to get you some milk.’

As they led the children away, Chloe wide-eyed, Gabriel red-eyed and pale, I glanced back to the patio.

Kate, Nick and Jeanie had gone inside. Dad was ushering my mother to do the same, while Rupert and Ellie quickly gathered the supper things.

‘I’m sorry, Alain,’ Adrien said. ‘We’ve been keeping this from you for weeks. But what with the wedding and everything, we couldn’t …’

‘Will you stop apologising to other people?’ Sabine shouted at him, her body rigid, her fists at her side; the thin veneer of civility that had briefly shone through while Mireille and Christopher were there now falling away. ‘This is nothing to do with anyone but us!’

Adrien rounded on her. ‘Oh? You think so, do you? It’s nothing to do with the children’s uncle and grandparents that you’re going to uproot them and take them away from their own father and move them to your blasted parents’ in Rouen?’

‘What?’ Alain looked from one to the other of them. ‘Sabine, you can’t do that.’

‘Alain, we should go,’ I said under my breath. ‘This isn’t our business.’

‘Emmy is right,’ Sabine snapped. ‘Why are you still here?’

Nodding, Alain took my hand and we began to walk away.

Adrien had turned back to Sabine. ‘You can’t take my own children away from me, Sabine.’

‘I can do what I like,’ she shrieked. ‘What makes you so sure they are yours, anyway, Adrien? Gabriel could just as easily be Alain’s!’