It was early the following morning. Stéphie, who’d got into Alexandra’s bed in the night, was fast asleep. Alexandra, unable to sleep longer herself, had come downstairs. When she’d seen to Milou and the hens, she had put a small, spotted mirror on the kitchen table and was cutting her fringe with the kitchen scissors when Antoine appeared through the back door. His arms were full of paper bags with baguettes emerging from the top.
‘Haven’t you got anywhere better to do that?’ he asked. ‘And don’t you need a hairdresser?’
‘I’m accustomed to doing it myself. Is it straight?’
Antoine put down his parcels and inspected Alexandra’s handiwork. ‘Close your eyes.’
She did and he blew on her, then he brushed away the remaining loose hairs on her face. ‘There. That’s perfect.’
She opened her eyes and wanted to shut them again. He was too near. He obviously felt the same because he stepped back quickly.
‘It’s funny, because I always cut my hair in the kitchen when I’m at home I do it here too. But you’re right, the light is far better in my room.’ Aware she was gabbling, she took a breath. ‘But it’s done now. The kettle’s on the gas stove.’
Antoine seemed amused. ‘I’ll get the range going.’
Alexandra ground coffee in the hand grinder and found cups and plates for breakfast while he broke twigs and adjusted logs. He was humming and seemed happy.
‘You seem full of the joys of spring,’ said Alexandra. His English was so good she assumed he would understand her.
‘I’m putting on a brave front. I can’t put off leaving any longer. I’ll have to go back to Paris again very soon.’
Alexandra’s heart gave a lurch. ‘Oh. The children will miss you.’
‘Won’t you miss me too?’ he asked.
She turned away from him, unwilling to let him see how. ‘Possibly a little bit. You’re very good at dealing with the stove.’ She was pleased with how matter-of-fact she sounded.
‘Is that the only reason?’
Alexandra shrugged in a way that David would say was Gallic. ‘What would you have me say? Milou will be very sad without you.’
He didn’t reply immediately. He just looked at her in a way that made her wonder if she hadn’t cut her fringe quite straight. ‘You’re very unusual for a nanny.’
‘Nannies are supposed to be unusual. Haven’t you read Mary Poppins? No, I don’t suppose you have.’
‘I’ll miss you, Alexandra,’ he said.
‘Why?’ She knew he wasn’t going to tell her it was because he’d fallen in love with her, so she felt it was safe to ask.
‘You’re very good at putting me in my place. In my work I am accustomed to being treated like the boss.’
‘Even Véronique treats you like that?’
‘She does. As my second in command, she likes me to be top of the heap – does that make sense to you? – so that her position, as number two, has status also.’
‘Antoine, would you mind if I asked you something?’
‘Ask me anything!’
‘What do you do that means you have to constantly keep coming and going away from home, away from your children?’
Antoine lost his flippancy. ‘I am a management consultant.’
‘Which is?’
‘Companies get into trouble. Maybe they are threatened by their competitors and don’t know how to respond, or they need new staff, or they have made financial mistakes. They need help. My company provides that help. When I go away, I spend time with these businesses that are in trouble.’ He paused. ‘We are not always welcomed by the staff and sometimes we cause people to be dismissed, but we help; we earn our money.’
Alexandra took time to think about what he’d said. ‘Can I ask … No. I won’t ask. It might be rude.’
‘Why become tactful now, Alexandra? You are very good at speaking your mind even if you are only twenty.’
She was aware he was teasing her but felt she had nothing to lose. ‘If you can tell people how to run their businesses so they’re profitable and run well, why don’t you look at the chateau as a business and see how it could be run to make enough money so you don’t have to go away?’
He was silent for so long Alexandra refilled the kettle and put it on the range which was now going well.
‘It hadn’t occurred to me the chateau and the farm could be a proper business. It’s always been a passion; I never thought it could be a way of making money.’
‘You have several small outbuildings. You could turn them into accommodation for visitors. David had lots of thoughts about it.’
‘I’ll have to think about this.’
‘You would need someone to run the bookings for you. And you’d need someone to organise everything, to arrange cleaners, to see about the bedding. A housekeeper.’
‘And we need one here. I’ve just learnt that Mme Carrier isn’t coming back.’
‘If you did all this so that renting the buildings earned money, would you be able to stay at home more in future, do you think?’
He nodded. ‘Possibly. I haven’t thought about renting the buildings to holidaymakers before. My plan is for the children to go to boarding school, but not like the ones Lucinda has brought prospectuses for. One that could provide a cello teacher for Henri, for a start.’
‘I do agree; the right school would be the best for them all, if you can find it.’
Stéphie was the first one down, rubbing her eyes and holding her book, which was Snowball the Pony by Enid Blyton. ‘You weren’t there, Lexi. I wanted to finish the book.’
‘I know, I’m sorry. I got up early. I had to cut my hair. Look!’
Stéphie frowned. ‘It looks the same to me. Good morning, Papa.’
‘Good morning, ma petite. Would you like a croissant? I’ve just brought them from the boulangerie.’ Antoine held out the paper bag. Stéphie reached in and took one.
‘Here,’ said Alexandra to Stéphie. ‘Have a plate for your croissant. Do you want butter or anything on it?’
‘No, thank you,’ said Stéphie.
‘I’ll make some hot chocolate,’ said Alexandra. ‘Ah, here’s Henri.’
‘Félicité is still asleep,’ said Henri, taking a croissant from the bag.
‘I’ll need her to get up,’ said Antoine. ‘We’re going out for the day.’
‘Great,’ said Henri. ‘Or is it culture? I’m not keen on culture.’
‘Dear boy, how can you say that?’ asked David, coming in, Jack following him. ‘Culture is all that matters in life.’
‘You only think that if it includes food,’ said Jack. ‘Morning, everyone. What’s the plan for the day?’
‘I’m taking the family to visit an old friend of mine. He has young people around the same age and he’s invited us to spend the day with them all.’ He paused. ‘I have to go back to Paris the day after tomorrow and I thought it would be nice to have a day out.’
Stéphie took a very deep breath. ‘The day after tomorrow?’ she said. ‘The day after tomorrow? You are going away then?’
‘Yes,’ said Antoine gently, obviously trying to make it easier for Stéphie.
Stéphie threw down her croissant. ‘It’s my birthday the day after tomorrow!’ she announced, and burst into furious tears.
Henri, who was nearest, gave her an awkward hug and patted her.
A few horrified moments ticked by.
‘OK, I have an idea,’ said Alexandra more calmly than she felt. ‘In England the Queen has two birthdays. She has her own, ordinary birthday and an official birthday. Why don’t we make your official birthday tomorrow? And then you can have another birthday on the actual day?’
‘Ooh,’ said Henri. ‘Two cakes! How about that, Stéphie? There will be two cakes, won’t there?’
‘Of course,’ said David.
‘Does the Queen have two cakes?’ asked Stéphie, whose tears had turned to outraged sniffing.
‘Of course!’ said David.
‘How do you know?’ demanded Stéphie.
‘I know a thing or two about being a queen,’ he said, giving Alexandra an almost imperceptible wink.
‘I think two birthdays would be very special,’ said Alexandra. ‘And you can choose your cake. What kind of cake would you like?’
‘I’d like one in the shape of Snowball the Pony,’ said Stéphie, clinging to her indignation and still sniffing.
‘Oh, darling,’ said Alexandra. ‘That will be quite difficult. I really meant what flavour cake.’
‘I think it will be perfectly possible to have a cake shaped like a pony,’ said David. ‘Queens must have their wishes granted on their birthdays, real or official.’
‘Chérie, I’m so sorry,’ said Antoine, still at his most gentle. ‘I didn’t mean to forget your birthday. We can have it tomorrow instead. We’ll have a lovely day.’
‘It’s horrible when a sad thing happens on your birthday,’ said Jack, ‘but maybe Antoine isn’t going away for long?’
‘I will be back before Christmas, I promise you,’ said Antoine.
‘And it’s December tomorrow,’ said Henri. ‘We can have an Advent calendar.’
‘I know it’s December tomorrow,’ said Stéphie. ‘It’s my birthday on the second!’
‘I am so, so sorry, chérie,’ Antoine said again, obviously stricken with guilt. ‘How could I have forgotten?’
‘What’s going on?’ said Félicité. ‘Why did no one wake me?’ Her hair was ruffled up at the back and she looked very young.
‘Papa has forgotten my birthday!’ said Stéphie.
‘He can’t have done,’ said Félicité. ‘It’s the day after tomorrow.’
The grief and hurt went on until even Stéphie’s siblings were starting to lose sympathy. Alexandra indicated that she wanted to speak to Antoine alone. They went into the courtyard to fill the log basket.
‘Could you possibly put off leaving for a day?’ she asked.
He shook his head. ‘I need to be at the office first thing on Tuesday. I’ve put it off for longer than I should have done as it is.’
‘Did you really forget her birthday?’ Alexandra was still hurt on Stéphie’s behalf.
‘No! Yes! I got the day wrong in my head. I could kick myself. I have a present for her.’
‘What she really wants is a pony,’ said Alexandra.
‘She can have a pony when I no longer have to go away to work.’
‘When will that be?’
‘Soon, I promise. I’ll speak to David about his ideas and get a builder to come. Maybe David will tell him what is required—’
‘In which case, promise her the pony,’ said Alexandra firmly. ‘But maybe you’ll have to get three ponies.’
‘If there’s someone who can look after them, they can have as many ponies as they like,’ said Antoine.
‘Don’t look at me! I’m a city girl.’ She turned to go back into the house wondering if she was angry with him because she didn’t want him to go to Paris either.
‘What can I do to make it better?’ he asked.
Alexandra shook her head. ‘I don’t really know. Maybe tell the people you’re visiting today that you forgot her birthday. If Stéphie has a really lovely time she’ll forgive you.’
‘Can you come with us, Alexandra?’
For a moment Alexandra acknowledged how much she wanted to, but: ‘I have to arrange a birthday. And make two cakes. One of them in the shape of a pony.’ Now she’d said it, she began to feel daunted.
‘I’m sure David will be able to do something creative. I need you with me.’
The words made her catch her breath. She came back sharply, desperate to mask her reaction. ‘Then I really hope David will be able to make both cakes, M. le Comte!’
He put his hand on her arm. ‘Alexandra, please don’t be angry with me. It’s bad enough with Stéphie and the others hating me for getting the day wrong for Stéphie’s birthday.’ His mouth was curling at the corners and she realised she couldn’t stay angry with him for more than about a second.
She took a breath. ‘Telephone your friends. Tell them about the birthday and warn them that I am coming. If they’re cooking, they’ll need to know that.’
‘They’ve always thought you were coming, chérie.’
Alexandra felt she was on holiday as they set off in Antoine’s car a couple of hours later. Still touched that he’d wanted her to go with them, she was determined to enjoy herself, although he confided (while they were waiting for Félicité to find the right jeans) it was because the friend, who lived quite far away, had mentioned his children went to a school that might be suitable. ‘I need your opinion on these matters,’ he said. It was still flattering even if he wasn’t saying, ‘I want to spend every last moment with you that I can.’
She turned round to look at the children. Félicité had been fairly maddening, trying to find exactly the right outfit. But Alexandra did understand. She’d always managed to feel fairly relaxed about it herself but there had been a couple of occasions when she’d been sent with a nanny to spend time with ‘suitable’ girls when she’d turned up in a smocked dress as approved by her relations and the girls in question had worn slacks.
Félicité was looking sharp, Alexandra decided. She was wearing well-fitting jeans and a white shirt with a sweater over the top. It was smart but casual. Stéphie’s clothes were practically the same but she managed to look like a little girl in hers and not a sultry teenager. Alexandra smiled at them all. ‘You’re looking very nice, I must say.’
She was wearing a very similar outfit herself: jeans she had bought from the market and a Guernsey sweater of David’s that had shrunk a little in the wash and he had passed on to her. Under it she had on a white shirt – the jumper was slightly itchy – and pearls in her ears. She had her Hermès scarf in her handbag in case Antoine’s friends were smarter than she’d imagined. She’d recently acquired a pair of boots, designed for a young working man with a small foot, and felt they added a certain je ne sais quoi to her outfit. She didn’t want to look like a run-of-the mill nanny.
‘Mummy would want me to wear a dress,’ said Félicité from the back of the car as they turned on to the main road, obviously not quite sure if she could trust Alexandra’s assurance that jeans were fine.
‘But you didn’t want to wear a dress,’ Alexandra reminded her.
‘I know! But should I have worn the dress she bought the other day anyway?’
‘I should just say that Henri and I are very proud to be escorting such stylish young women, aren’t we, Henri?’ said Antoine, glancing in the mirror so he could see the back seat.
‘What? Yeah. Of course.’ Henri rolled his eyes but good-naturedly.
Stéphie giggled, quite over her disappointment about her birthday, for now at least. Alexandra wasn’t the only one who felt it was like a holiday.
‘We’re going up into Haute Provence,’ said Antoine. ‘It’s different up there, away from the tourist spots. It’s beautiful, but rugged.’
‘If this man is a friend of yours, why haven’t we visited him before, Papa?’ said Félicité.
‘Because he lives a good hour away,’ said Antoine. ‘Also, I lost touch with him for a few years. He is married and has children. They are almost the same ages as you are.’
‘Do they have young children?’ asked Stéphie. ‘I never have friends to play with.’
Alexandra saw Antoine looking guilty; he hadn’t discovered the precise ages of the children and now felt caught out.
They’d driven up through hills and chalky mountains with scrubby bush and forests with oak and pine trees and eventually they arrived. The house was large and on a plateau, visible from the road a little way away.
There was a gate and Alexandra got out to open it. She felt a bit stiff and was immediately aware that the air was cooler here. Although it was nearly December, it had been warmer at the chateau.
A couple just a little older than Antoine were waiting as the car drew up in front of the house. And then several children appeared from different directions. They all seemed very pleased to see Antoine and his party.
There was a lot of kissing and then Philippe, who was Antoine’s friend, looked at Alexandra, said, ‘Antoine, you old devil, where did you find such a beautiful young woman and how did you persuade her to go out with you?’
Although Philippe had spoken in French, Alexandra responded in English. ‘I’m the nanny, monsieur. Alexandra.’
‘But you speak French, mam’selle?’ asked Philippe.
‘I do.’
Philippe shrugged and replied in English. ‘If you tell me you are the nanny I have to believe you!’ He gave the impression that he didn’t believe this for a minute but in a way that was amusing rather than offensive.
‘Forgive my husband,’ said Nicolette, who was Philippe’s wife. ‘He is paying you a compliment but in a very clumsy way.’
The children, who were all teenagers, came up to Félicité, Henri and Stéphie, who were standing in a row not quite knowing what to do. A girl, about the same age as Félicité, said to Stéphie, ‘Would you like to come and see some kittens? They are in the barn. We can also play ping pong?’
‘What lovely children you have, Nicolette,’ said Alexandra as they moved indoors.
‘They like other children and Sandrine is very maternal. She will love having little Stéphanie to play with.’ She handed Alexandra a glass of champagne from a tray and took one herself. Then Nicolette moved to the window and Alexandra followed.
‘What a beautiful view!’ she said, and then realised it made her sound very English.
‘But the chateau is also in a beautiful place?’
‘Oh yes. I will be very sorry to leave it.’ Alexandra hadn’t intended to say anything remotely personal but possibly a few sips of champagne had loosened her inhibitions.
‘I am sorry too, if you will be leaving. I think Antoine’s children have been without a mother too long.’
‘Oh, but Lucinda has come back! She’s no longer in Argentina. She lives in town, with her mother.’
‘Maybe I haven’t remembered correctly but she is not the mother of the little one?’
‘No,’ said Alexandra. ‘Sadly not.’
‘And you can’t stay? As their nanny?’
Alexandra shook her head, suddenly feeling emotional. ‘No. I have relations in Switzerland. In the spring I must go and live with them, when the children are established in school, or have another nanny, or someone who can look after them when Antoine is away.’
‘They will miss you!’ said Nicolette.
‘How do you know?’ said Alexandra, smiling to cover the tears that threatened. ‘They may hate me!’
Nicolette shook her head. ‘They don’t hate you. Antoine told Philippe all about you. Come, let us find the children. It is time for lunch.’
They were all in the barn. Félicité was playing table tennis with a boy who seemed a bit older than she was. Henri was looking at an old tractor with another of the boys and Stéphie was with Sandrine, on her knees, surrounded by kittens. They all looked extremely happy.
Lunch was hugely enjoyable for Alexandra, possibly because she wasn’t responsible for any of it. A lovely young woman put dishes on the table, a man filled glasses, and she didn’t have to get up once.
‘This is delightful,’ she said to Nicolette when the opportunity came up. ‘Such good food and such well-behaved children. Yours are being so kind to ours.’ Alexandra didn’t notice her use of the possessive until it was too late. She did feel as if the children were hers, although it was a ridiculous thought.
‘Their school – I can see Philippe is boring Antoine with the philosophy – focuses a lot on the children being kind to each other. And what are good manners if not kindness?’
Alexandra could think of people she knew who used what they considered to be good manners as weapons, to make others feel inferior. ‘What indeed! So, are yours happy there?’
‘Very. It’s like a large family. Academic achievements are important but they are not the only thing. They do a lot of music and drama.’
‘Henri will like that,’ said Alexandra. ‘He’s very musical. But he will need someone to teach him the cello. He is really gifted.’
‘The school has specialist teachers who come in for things like that. Henri would be encouraged and supported.’
Alexandra fell silent as she realised that Lucinda would have to agree to her children going to this school, and she probably wouldn’t approve of it at all. And it might be very expensive, too. If it was small, it was bound to be.
‘Can I pass you something?’ asked Nicolette, indicating the tartes and gateaux that had been offered for dessert, possibly concerned by Alexandra’s sudden silence. ‘Or maybe more coffee?’
‘No, thank you. I’ve had what one of my schools taught me to call “an ample sufficiency”. English people don’t really consider enthusiasm for food to be polite.’
Nicolette laughed. ‘We must give you an opportunity to talk to my children about their school, when I’m not there. They will tell you the truth, possibly, because you are so much younger than their parents.’ She smiled. ‘Which is not to say that you are too young for Antoine. In many ways women are so much older than men, no?’
‘Antoine and I aren’t a couple,’ Alexandra said urgently. ‘Everyone makes a joke of it – I would do myself – but I am only the nanny.’
Nicolette seemed disappointed. ‘Oh. I thought there was a spark between you.’
Alexandra was missing female companionship and she longed to share her feelings for Antoine. David was a close friend and she could tell him anything but she felt this needed another woman. Possibly if her feelings were brought out into the open, they’d melt, like snow in the sunlight.
‘Shall we go for a walk in the garden?’ suggested Nicolette a little later, as people got up from the table. ‘We can meet the children in the barn.’
‘I miss my women friends,’ said Nicolette as they stood at the end of the garden and looked at the distant hills covered with scrubby pine and oak forest and the mountains beyond. ‘Before I was married and had all these children, I had a job I loved and I worked with women. I don’t regret giving it all up for this’ – she made a gesture towards the view – ‘or for my husband. But I miss other women.’
‘I do too. I’ve lived most of my life in a fairly solitary way but recently I shared my house with girls my own age. I miss them now.’
‘And you’d have told them if you were in love with your boss?’
Alexandra smiled. ‘Yes. And I hope they would have told me how ridiculous I was being.’
‘I don’t suppose they would. Falling in love is very annoying. It’s not always possible to choose the right person to do it with. Although Antoine is a good man, and of course very handsome. It’s natural you should find him attractive.’
‘I think I am too young for him.’
‘Which is not to say that he is too old for you.’
Alexandra nodded. ‘No. And in any case, when the children are settled, in one way or another, I will have to do my family’s bidding and join them in Switzerland. I think they’d like me to marry my cousin Hubert.’
Nicolette was very amused. ‘Does Hubert not take your fancy?’
‘No, and more to the point, I don’t take his. David, who is tutoring the children now, is of the opinion – and I believe him – that Hubert is … of the other persuasion.’
It took Nicolette a couple of seconds to interpret this and then she laughed. ‘Don’t give up on Antoine,’ she said. ‘Love has a way of getting what it wants in the end. Shall we find the children now?’
Getting the children to leave took some time. It was only when Antoine had been persuaded to let them take two kittens, pressed on them by Sandrine, that Félicité and Stéphie got into the car. Félicité also had a book, lent to her by Léo, the eldest boy. She’d blushed but taken the book willingly. Alexandra decided it wasn’t her job to check the book was suitable. She’d recently discovered a stash of Angélique novels on a bookshelf in one of the bedrooms that she had recommended to Félicité, although Lucinda would no doubt be horrified. Alexandra felt no guilt; they were full of French history, which made them educational.
The first part of the journey was taken up with the kittens, who objected to being put in a box. It was only when they became tired, and accepted that sleeping on a warm lap being stroked by a gentle hand (the girls had a cat each) was an acceptable way to travel, that Antoine could really relax.
‘It’s a shame you were persuaded to promise everyone ponies when you could have got away with kittens,’ said Alexandra quietly to Antoine.
He took his eyes off the road long enough to give her a look that made her stomach flip with desire. ‘I hold you entirely responsible for the ponies.’
Alexandra suppressed a smile and looked out of the window. Perhaps Nicolette was right and there was a spark between them. Even the possibility made her very happy.
‘I hope Milou will be kind to the kittens,’ said Antoine as they approached the entrance to the chateau. ‘You’ll have to be very careful in the beginning. He’s a big dog.’
‘It’s all right,’ said Stéphie, full of confidence. ‘Sandrine told me the kittens are used to dogs.’
‘They have a dog that comes into milk when the cat has kittens,’ said Henri. ‘They’ll be fine.’
Antoine and Alexandra exchanged an anxious glance. The kittens were tiny compared to Milou. They would have no chance if he decided he resented their presence.
The front door to the chateau was unlocked and a welcome warmth greeted them. Although it was warm enough when it was sunny, it was much cooler in the evenings now, and Antoine had begun to light the fire in the hall. David had lit it now and Milou was flat out asleep in front of it.
Before anyone could say or do anything, Stéphie put down the kitten she was holding. ‘There you are, Snowball, that’s Milou. He lives here too.’
Antoine put an arm round Alexandra’s shoulder and clutched it, obviously terrified at the potential disaster.
The kitten, spotting the dog, jumped on all four legs towards him, every hair on end, looking like an angry feather duster made of swansdown. Milou, who had raised his head, hadn’t taken in what was attacking him until the kitten gave him a biff on the nose. Then the ball of fluff ran up the dog’s side and settled on his groin as if it were an established favourite spot. Milou looked at the little creature in utter amazement.
Félicité, seeing that Milou had yet to harm the little white kitten, set down the tortoiseshell kitten, as yet unnamed. This ran over to the dog in a much less aggressive manner, and the dog and the kitten sniffed each other’s noses before this less assertive little animal snuggled in the dog’s neck. Milou looked up at Antoine, obviously wondering what on earth had just happened.
‘It’s going to be fine,’ said Stéphie as if this was never in doubt. ‘Hello, David. I’m starving. Is there supper?’
‘There’s soup,’ said David, looking at the kittens and the dog in amusement.
‘What kind of soup?’ asked Félicité.
‘I can’t be very specific. Let’s just call it soup. I’ve had a very busy day getting ready for an official birthday.’
‘Oh, I’d forgotten!’ said Stéphie. ‘Have you made me a cake?’
‘Children!’ said Antoine. ‘You are being very demanding. David isn’t here to cook for you.’
David smiled. ‘Although, to be fair, I do cook a fair bit. I enjoy it. Now come along.’
‘I’ll just run up and wash my hands,’ said Alexandra, not waiting to hear Stéphie ask why she needed to go upstairs to do it.
In fact, Alexandra wanted a moment to think about Antoine’s arm round her shoulders. It didn’t mean anything, she knew that, but she wanted to enjoy the feeling of connection it gave her. Just for a few moments she felt as if she was the mother in a family. Maybe it was because she’d grown up without close family of her own that she wanted to be part of this one. Looking at herself wonderingly for a few moments, she washed her hands, redid her plait and ran back downstairs.
