The next morning when the phone rang, I was harassed at breakfast and anxious to wave my parents off before going to the market – but I was happy to hear from Julia Cooper.

Julia had been my nemesis this time last year, when Rupert and I discovered she’d booked the entire place for her parents’ golden wedding anniversary. It nearly killed us, initially because Gloria hadn’t thought to tell him about it, and subsequently because Julia was demanding and overwrought – much like my mother with the wedding. Yet in the end, it was wonderful, and the fact that Julia single-handedly organised it filled me with admiration – and with hope that my wedding might turn out as well.

Julia ran specialist residential courses and had persuaded us to host some at La Cour des Roses. We’d held a couple in the spring and they were successful, although it was hard work providing meals every evening and feigning an interest in whatever the enthusiasts were there to learn. The photographers were fine, although I glazed over when they got technical. The aspiring thriller writers? Their topics of conversation weren’t entirely suitable over dinner. There are only so many methods of murder you can stomach before it puts you off your rare steak in red wine sauce.

The photography course was a double triumph – not only good revenue for us, but I’d put Julia in touch with Bob, whose landscape photography was beautiful but who mainly subsisted by taking photos for the local estate agents and now for my company. He’d been nervous about running a course but was keen on the fee (it meant fresh tyres for his beloved motorbike) and the fact that he would be obliged to dine at La Cour des Roses (such a hardship).

‘Julia! Lovely to hear from you. How are you?’

‘I’m fine. Robert says our May break at La Cour des Roses wasn’t enough. He wants to come back already.’

‘That’s nice. Let me know when you can get away.’

‘Thanks, Emmy. I rang to update you on numbers for the courses at the end of September. Oil painting is three-quarters full. Landscape photography is booked up.’

I whooped. ‘Bob will be thrilled.’

‘We got great feedback from the one he did in Wales last month, and I have more weeks in the autumn if he can make it over here. Possibly Italy next year. I’ll phone him this week.’

‘Did you know he’s doing my wedding photographs?’

‘Really? Great! How’s all that going?’

‘My mother’s driving me mad, but it wouldn’t get done if it was left to me, so I can’t complain.’

‘How long now?’

‘Just under four weeks.’

‘Well, I hope it all goes to plan. Will that gorgeous fiancé of yours play the sax again?’

I laughed. Nobody was more surprised than me at how good Alain was when he’d had to stand in with the band at the anniversary party last year.

‘No. You know how he feels about playing in front of people he knows, so it would hardly be fair at his own wedding! But we’ve hired the same band.’

‘Good luck with it all. I’ll speak to you soon.’

‘Thanks, Julia.’

Mum was tearful when I saw them off. ‘Just think, Emmy. The next time we’re here, you’ll be almost married.’

Yes, just think.

‘Aunt Jeanie’s travelling with you?’ I asked her.

‘Yes. It’s easier than trying to get her here by herself. You know how scatty she is.’

That’s one word for her.

‘And …’

‘Flo, we’ll miss the plane. Get your backside in gear,’ Dad growled, shooting a wink my way as he bundled her into the car.

Rupert tapped his watch. We were running late for the market and coffee with Jonathan and Bob.

By the time we got to the café, laden down with shopping, they were on to their second cup.

I relayed Julia’s call to Bob. ‘Better watch it, or you’ll be ruining your laid-back image with all this proper work,’ I teased.

Bob was the original hippie – faded denims, straggling grey beard and all.

‘Talking of proper paid work, it seems Emmy will be doing very little of it this week,’ Rupert told them. ‘She’s helping Alain babysit his niece and nephew for a few days.’

Bob smiled at me. ‘Is that good or bad?’

‘Good, I think. I met them over Christmas and they’re sweet. Alain adores them. But they haven’t stayed with him down here before, so it’s new ground for us.’

‘Any plans for how to occupy them?’ Jonathan asked.

‘We only found out we were having them a couple of days ago. But definitely the zoo. Maybe a walk – the scenery will be different enough to back home to keep them interested, I hope.’

‘Throw the dog in as a sweetener, if you like,’ Rupert offered. ‘She’ll liven a walk up.’

I thought about Gloria’s wayward habits on a walk – pulling on her lead, running ahead when she was off it, burrowing around in heaven knows what – and made a face, making Bob roar with laughter.

But she would be a novelty for the children. I knew they didn’t have a pet of their own. In fact, Gabriel had told me at Christmas that he was desperate for one – preferably a dog, if necessary a cat, but he would settle for a rabbit, if he had to. ‘Good idea. Thanks.’

‘You’re welcome.’

‘Any fun guests at the moment?’ Jonathan asked. He loved hearing the gossip from La Cour des Roses, especially now he didn’t get out and about as much.

‘They were as dull as ditchwater last week,’ Rupert pronounced glumly, and proceeded to explain about Diane. ‘I’m bored just telling you about it. We could do with someone who’ll liven things up this week, if you ask me.’

I put my head in my hands. ‘Aargh! Don’t say that, Rupert. You know you’re only inviting trouble!’

By the time I’d caught up with my chores with Madame Dupont that afternoon, I’d have liked nothing better than a quiet evening at Alain’s house – but he was devoting the evening to work, in readiness for devoting the next few days to his niece and nephew.

And since Ellie had come round to see Rupert – it wasn’t unknown for them to closet themselves away in Rupert’s quarters to thrash out international real estate – I figured I should catch up with e-mails and bookings for both La Cour des Roses and my own agency.

It gave me pleasure, seeing how well La Cour des Roses was doing and that my own business was coming along.

But it wasn’t the same kind of pleasure I could have got from an evening with a handsome half-Frenchman.

The next day, I grabbed a quick coffee in Pierre-la-Fontaine with Ellie and Sophie at lunchtime before the children’s arrival.

We settled ourselves outside the café nearest their businesses, overlooking the stone fountain with bright red and yellow flowers around its base, the trickle of water soothing my senses and Gloria at my feet, firmly tied around the chair leg for the safety of waiters and customers alike.

I explained her presence by telling Sophie and Ellie about the imminent arrival of Alain’s niece and nephew.

‘That will be nice for you, spending quality time with them,’ Sophie said cheerily.

‘Hmm. It won’t do any harm to make sure your page boy and flower girl are on your side before the big day,’ Ellie agreed cynically.

‘How did it go at the weekend?’ Sophie asked. ‘Did your mother discuss the wedding?’

‘Of course! Goodness knows what she’ll find to talk about, once it’s over and done with.’

‘I gather it’s common practice for the bride’s mother to spend many months talking about the wedding afterwards as well as beforehand,’ Ellie pointed out. ‘There are speeches to dissect, photos to be pored over, anecdotes to be told, relatives to be gossiped about … Plenty of fodder for quite some time.’

I groaned, and as though she was tuning in, the dog lifted her head, heaved a huge sigh and plunked her chin back down on the floor, making us all laugh.

‘We should arrange an evening to practise make-up,’ Sophie said. ‘Although I cannot do anything about Kate, of course.’

Ellie shot her an expression of mock despair. ‘So why put us through it?’

‘We do not want any disasters on the day. I have to be sure I am doing the right thing for your skin tones. And …’ Her shoulders slumped. ‘Flo texted me. She wants us to practise and send photos of the results. For her approval.’

I frowned. ‘Why did she text you and not me?’

‘Because she knows Sophie is less likely to answer back,’ Ellie said wryly.

‘Because,’ Sophie corrected, ‘she forgot to mention it to you at the weekend, and as I am the one doing the make-up, I am the one she needed to consult.’

Ellie and I exchanged a look. We both knew that Ellie’s response was probably truer to the mark, but we dutifully took out our phones to arrange a date, while I quelled my irritation that Mum thought it was okay to bother my friends directly instead of going through me.

When I heard a car horn and glanced around, the florist shop’s awning caught my eye, and I slapped my forehead with the flat of my hand.

‘What?’ Ellie asked, alarmed.

‘I’ve got a mental block about that florist,’ I complained. ‘I need your bridesmaid dresses sometime soon, before either the florist or my mother lynches me.’ I explained the phone call last week.

‘Aren’t you caught up with the kids and your own dress fitting this week?’

‘Yeah. But Madame Pascal wants to discuss my needs and whatever.’ My mind raced ahead. ‘Is she open on a Monday, do you know?’

‘It’s her half day,’ Sophie said. ‘She’s only open in the morning.’

‘That’ll do. Can I pop round to each of yours on Sunday morning to collect the dresses?’

‘Do you want me to bring them over?’ Ellie asked, concerned. ‘You’re tearing around like a …’

I held up a hand before she could elucidate. ‘No, thanks, I can do it on the way to Alain’s. Can you watch Gloria for a minute? I’ll go over and let the florist know.’

That done, I drove the dog to Alain’s, where we fed her the food Rupert had packed for her, then took her out to the back garden. This was a new space to her, and it was her doggy responsibility to explore it, christen it and whatever else.

When she’d finished, Alain tied her to a bench in the shade. ‘She can have a nap before the walk. I thought it best not to have her inside when the kids land, so they can get used to the house and see Grandma off first. Then we’ll let them get acquainted.’

The dog didn’t seem to mind the arrangement. She flopped on the grass, closed her eyes and was off into doggy dreamland almost before we got back inside.

Mireille arrived with the children soon after, as neat and tidy as ever in navy cropped trousers and a smart striped top, a jaunty navy scarf around her neck, her grey hair in a short cut that I could never get away with.

I’d met Alain’s parents several times over the past year and was grateful that we all got on well. Christopher – the English half of Alain’s parentage – was quiet and personable. Mireille was a little mercurial, but I always appreciated the fact that in a house where conversations could be held in French or English, she kindly gave preference to English whenever I was around.

‘Sorry we’re late. Numerous toilet stops,’ she said as she unbuckled the children from their car seats. ‘Don’t worry, they ate in the car.’

‘I’d never have guessed,’ Alain commented wryly as he helped Chloe out, glancing at the breadcrumbs scattered across the back seat and the chunk of raw carrot still clutched in Chloe’s little fist. He tousled her mop of brown curls, and she reached her arms around him to hug him.

‘Uncle Alain!’ Gabriel had got himself out of the car and ran around to hug Alain tight. With Chloe still in his arms, Alain teetered with the force, making Mireille and me laugh.

Remembering his manners, Gabriel came over to hug me, too. Chloe wasn’t relinquishing her hold on her uncle, but she reached out a hand to me, so I went over and kissed her rosy cheeks.

Mireille came inside with us for a cup of tea and to make sure they both settled, but it didn’t take long to ascertain that, as the children had never been to Alain’s house before, they would be content to explore and ask a million questions about his belongings for a while.

While Alain supervised them, Mireille and I settled on the sofa to enjoy our tea.

‘Will you come with Alain when he brings the children back on Friday?’ she asked.

‘It depends on Rupert, and on how far behind I get at the guesthouse this week.’ I leaned in conspiratorially. ‘Not that I’m complaining about the distraction.’

She smiled. ‘It would be nice if you could make it. Adrien and Sabine will be there, and we could all have a lovely family lunch. We haven’t all been together like that since Christmas.’

My heart warmed to know that she so readily accepted me as part of the family. ‘I’ll do my best.’

Finishing her tea, she stood. ‘Chloe, Gabriel, I’m going now. Be good, won’t you?’

‘I’m always good,’ Gabriel declared as he ran back to her, a cheeky grin on his face that made his grandmother smile with affection.

She swooped him up and hugged him, and then did the same with Chloe. We followed her out to the car.

‘Have fun,’ she said as she climbed in. ‘It will be good practice for when you have your own!’

The children waved until the car was out of sight, then shot back indoors to continue exploring.

‘I like this photo,’ Chloe said, dragging one of her and Gabriel from a wooden shelf.

Gabriel picked up one of his grandparents, then looked back at the shelves, his brown eyes serious. ‘Why don’t you have a picture of Maman and Papa?’

I winced, but Alain’s hesitation was barely noticeable.

‘I haven’t got a good one of them yet,’ he said smoothly. ‘Maybe if we get some at the wedding, I can choose one and add it to the shelf.’

Gabriel nodded, satisfied, and picked up a little wooden box. ‘What’s this? Is it a treasure chest?’

‘Only if you put treasure in it. Have you got any?’ Gently steering them away from what could turn into twenty questions over every single object he possessed, Alain said, ‘I have a treat for you outside, but it’s only to borrow for this afternoon. Do you want to see?’

They followed him excitedly through the kitchen and out to the back garden, where Gloria lay sprawled where we’d left her.

‘It’s a dog! Is it your dog? What kind of a dog is it? What’s it called? Can we play with it?’

Their clamour of questions made Alain smile, but he crouched down and patiently answered them all, showing them how to pet her without being too enthusiastic. Gloria took this sudden awakening from her afternoon nap in good part and washed the children’s arms, much to their delight.

‘Her owner, Rupert, asked us to take her for a walk,’ Alain told them, and they cheered.

We set off along the streets, with Alain holding the dog tight at heel and me holding the children’s hands.

‘Are you glad you’ve broken up for the holidays?’ I asked Gabriel.

‘Yes, but I like school,’ he said. ‘We’ll have a different teacher when I go back, though, and I don’t know if I’ll like her yet.’

‘What do you like best about school?’

‘Playtimes,’ he answered immediately. ‘And painting and drawing. Maths is okay. But I don’t like reading. It’s too hard. I don’t know all the words.’

I squeezed his hand. ‘Don’t worry. It’ll get easier as you get older, I promise.’

‘I can’t read yet,’ Chloe chipped in. ‘But I’m starting school soon, and then I’ll be able to. I like stories. I like it when Mummy and Daddy read to me at bedtime.’

‘What kind of stories do you like?’

She frowned in concentration. ‘I like stories about animals best. Sometimes fairies and princesses.’

‘Too girly,’ Gabriel muttered.

‘But I am a girl,’ Chloe pointed out logically. ‘And I like princess dresses. My dress for your wedding is like a princess dress.’

I smiled. ‘Really?’

‘Yes. All white and …’ Her face screwed up as she sought the word she wanted. ‘Fluffy.’

Alain and I exchanged a bemused look. Visions of a bunny rabbit costume sprung to mind.

‘Do you mean lacy?’ I suggested.

‘Yes. And bouncy.’

Uh-huh. Well, Sabine was Parisienne by birth, so we could only trust to her taste.

‘What will I have to do?’ Chloe asked. ‘On your wedding day?’

‘All you have to do is carry a basket of flowers and look pretty. I’m sure you can manage that.’ I turned to Gabriel. ‘What’s your outfit like?’

‘Okay. Except I have to wear a tie.’

Alain tousled Gabriel’s hair. ‘Better get used to it, kiddo.’

‘But Mum says it’ll be purple.’

Alain cracked up laughing, but when Gabriel glared at him, he changed the subject back to safer ground. ‘What kind of stories do you like, Gabriel?’

‘I like it when people go on adventures.’

‘Well then, here’s an adventure for you,’ Alain said as we reached a safe track. ‘You two can take it in turns to hold Gloria’s lead, if you like.’

‘Yeah!’

The children loved it. It made them feel important, and they thought it was funny, being taken for a walk by the dog – because, as ever, Gloria set the pace.

Once we were on a path where she couldn’t stray onto farmland, Alain let her off the lead so she could run ahead, the children displaying remarkable speed in their endeavours to keep up with her, but not quite managing it.

When Chloe lagged too far behind, Alain lifted her onto his tall shoulders, where she squealed happily, pointing out all the things she could see from her new vantage point.

‘Don’t go too far, Gabriel!’ Alain shouted. ‘If you turn round and can’t see us, that means we can’t see you.’

Gabriel half-turned his head, acknowledged the instruction … and promptly ignored it, racing around the next bend.

Alain shook his head. ‘Boys.’

‘Will he be okay?’ I asked anxiously.

‘He can only go straight on. Of course he will.’

He’d spoken too soon. We reached the bend in time to see Gabriel, well ahead and not watching his feet, go flying over a tree root and crash into a vegetation-filled ditch alongside the path. He let out a loud wail.

Since Alain was hampered by Chloe, I raced ahead.

Gabriel had landed in a huge clump of nettles, and by thrashing around, he was making it worse.

‘Gabriel, lie still.’

He immediately did as he was told, looking up at me with tear-filled eyes, awaiting instruction.

Alain caught up with us, lowered Chloe to the ground and, without a thought, stepped into the nettles to gently lift the boy out and pass him to me.

I winced. They were both in shorts.

Gabriel hiccupped away his tears, and I realised it was only the shock that had caused them. Once those nettles did their work, there were going to be plenty more.

‘We need to go back,’ Alain told the children calmly, shooting me a worried look. ‘Gloria’s tired now.’

The dog pranced ahead of us, belying his words, as the consequences of Gabriel’s choice of landing material made itself known.

‘Ow! My arm stings. My legs hurt. Owwwww!’

His poor limbs were coming out in angry red and white blotches. Alain’s legs were the same.

I hunted around for dock leaves, plucked a handful, handed some to Alain, then knelt in front of Gabriel to gently rub them over his rashes. Gloria had her own remedy in mind – slathering her tongue across his legs – but I pushed her away.

‘It still hurts,’ Gabriel mumbled, eyeing the dock leaves dubiously.

‘Well, we have something at Uncle Alain’s house that will make it better, but you have to be brave and walk back with us, okay?’

Alain lifted Chloe back onto his shoulders, while I held the dog’s lead in one hand and Gabriel’s hand in the other. As we marched back, we sang songs to take their minds off the nasty weals on Gabriel’s legs, and the children gamely joined in.

Back at Alain’s, as he opened his door he whispered, ‘What remedy did you have in mind? I don’t have any calamine lotion. I’ll have to go into town to the pharmacie.’

‘Do you have baking soda?’

‘Maybe. Probably out of date, though.’

‘That doesn’t matter. We’re applying it, not eating it. I’ll wash him down while you look up the recipe on the internet.’

We tied the dog up in the back garden, then I took Gabriel upstairs and cooled his livid legs and arms with a cold flannel, while Alain mixed his potion downstairs. Gabriel wrinkled his nose up at the paste but didn’t complain when Alain applied it, while Chloe watched proceedings.

They both found it hilarious when Alain pasted it over his own legs, too, where it got stuck in all the hairs and looked a complete mess. Alain smeared it around far more than necessary, purely for the kids’ amusement, I was sure.

Back downstairs, we seated Gabriel on a large bath towel spread over the sofa – suddenly, cream upholstery didn’t seem such a good idea – and distracted him with television and lemonade, Chloe at his side.

Catching Alain in the kitchen, I kissed him. ‘I need to drive the dog back to Rupert. He’ll be wondering where we are.’

By the time I got back to Alain’s, Gabriel had cheered up considerably, so when I said I’d put together something to eat, Alain took them outside to play and work off any energy they might have left.

Treating myself to a sneaky glass of wine as I worked in the sage-green and blue tiled kitchen, I watched them through the kitchen window.

The kids’ energy was boundless, but Alain kept up with them, giving piggy backs around the hydrangeas and kicking a ball around. All strategy, I was sure – to wear them out before bedtime, to take Gabriel’s mind off his nettle rash, and to ensure that neither of them had any lingering fear of the outdoors. The children tumbled over the grass, laughing as Alain showed them how to roll down the gentle slope of the lawn, gathering momentum until they reached the bottom in a sprawl of arms and legs.

I wasn’t sure who was having a better time, them or him.