by Fiona Valpy
Sara rang off and turned back to Thomas. ‘Yay! Family!’ she echoed again, faintly.
He propped himself up on one elbow and kissed her forehead where it had contracted into a slight frown. ‘Don’t worry. It’ll be fine. You’ll introduce me to your family and I’ll introduce you to mine. A big week! I’ve got a good idea,’ he continued. ‘There’s a marché nocturne at Saussignac on Saturday night—let’s all go. It’s great fun; all the local producteurs have stalls with different foods and wines. And there’s dancing. Not that the DJ will be up to the very high standards of Château Bellevue, of course. I doubt he’s ever done a party for a world-famous rock band!’
‘Why, Thomas Cortini! I do believe your fame is quite going to your head,’ she laughed.
‘Not at all, I am very modest. Now, prepare to be made love to once again by world’s greatest disc-jockey, wine-maker and sex machine!’
‘How lovely! I can’t wait to meet all three of them...’ But Sara’s teasing was smothered as Thomas’s lips covered hers.
* * *
As she leant against the kitchen counter, waiting for the croissants to warm in the oven, Sara massaged the knots in her neck and shoulders. She’d tried to stay relaxed about having Dad and his family here, but within the first few minutes of their arrival she’d felt the customary tightening in her jaw as she gritted her teeth in a fixed smile, listening politely to her stepmother’s stream of chatter. ‘We were so disappointed to hear your engagement was off! Hannah was looking forward to being a bridesmaid, weren’t you, Hannah?’
From the back seat of the car, where she and her friend were both engrossed in their phones, catching up on some hot-and-heavy texting having been disconnected from the world for all of an hour on the flight over, Hannah had grunted.
‘Anyway, never mind. Her cousin Amanda’s getting married next spring, so that’s made up for it. Ooh, are those grapes? I never knew they grew like that. And we’re really looking forward to seeing your château. Hannah looked it up on the Internet, didn’t you, Hannah, before we booked the flights. It looks very smart...’
Sara felt her shoulders steadily ratchet themselves up towards her ears as Lissy rattled on, all the way back to Coulliac.
‘...And Hannah and Amy, you’re in here,’ Sara had said, throwing open the door to one of the prettiest bedrooms, a twin-bedded room with a view of the barn and the pool.
‘Oh, are we supposed to share? I haven’t slept in a single bed for years,’ Hannah had complained.
‘Well, yes, I thought you’d probably prefer to be together.’ And it would also be one less room to clean next week; having already done the changeover, she was hoping to minimise the amount of work they’d need to do to prepare for the next wedding.
And then this morning, instead of a leisurely Saturday morning lie-in for once during the season, she’d got up early and gone down to the bakery to buy croissants and fresh bread for their breakfast, quietly closing the cottage door behind her as she slipped out, leaving Thomas asleep in bed. ‘This is weird,’ he’d commented the night before. ‘You sleep in the cottage while they are installed in your best bedrooms in the château. I thought Cinderella was a character in a fairy story, but it seems she’s still alive today and living in Château Bellevue.’
‘Oh well, it’s simpler this way. I can’t be bothered moving back just for the weekend when all my things are here. I shall reclaim my castle soon enough at the end of the season.’ Though heaven knows how long it’ll be mine, she thought. She was still waiting for the bank manager to get back from holiday, desperately hoping he’d agree to loan her the money she needed to buy out Gavin’s share. It was her last chance to keep the château.
Sara dragged her attention back to Thomas as she lay in bed beside him. ‘And anyway, I may be Cinderella, but luckily my prince doesn’t mind slumming it in the cottage with me!’
Thomas had turned to her. ‘So am I your prince, Sara?’ He was serious suddenly, so she deflected his question lightly.
‘Of course. Until I send you out into the big wide world to slay a few dragons. I wouldn’t want you to think I was a complete pushover.’
Tonight he was taking them all to the night market at Saussignac, so that should keep her family happy and it meant she didn’t need to cook and shop for supper.
‘Good morning, Dad, Lissy. I hope you slept well?’
‘Yes, fine thanks. It’s very quiet here, isn’t it? Hannah came through in the night though, because Amy was snoring and it was keeping her awake. So I told her just to move to one of the other bedrooms. They all seemed to be made up so it wasn’t a problem. And she does prefer a double bed.’
I will not be made to feel guilty. I will not get annoyed at my stepmother. I will not be jealous of my stepsister... Sara’s shoulders had now welded themselves to her ears with tension and she couldn’t help crashing the coffee pot down onto the table with more force than was strictly necessary.
But then Thomas came into the kitchen and wrapped his arms around her. ‘Aah!’ he sniffed the air appreciatively. ‘The servants have already made our breakfast—how wonderful!’
‘Oh, do you have help even at the weekends?’ Lissy bit into a warm croissant, thickly spread with butter and jam. ‘Well, it’s all right for some, isn’t it!’
Sara bared her teeth at Thomas in a mock snarl which no one else could see; but his amused smile and the understanding sparkle in his eyes did make her shoulders relax downwards an inch or two, and she suddenly felt a lot better, having someone beside her who understood what she was really feeling.
* * *
The night air was warm as they strolled into the pretty village of Saussignac. People had come from far and wide, and they’d had to park the cars some way from the central square alongside the elegant château that dominated the main street.
The sound of laughter and the heady scents of garlic and chip-fat were drawing a steady stream of revellers towards long trestle tables set out beneath a canopy of lime trees. Thomas held Sara’s hand as they walked beside her father and stepmother and Antoine and Héloise, who had cadged a lift in Thomas’s van since they’d needed to take two cars and there were places to spare. Hannah and Amy, still engrossed with their phones, brought up the rear.
Saussignac’s tree-lined square nestled beneath the elegant spire of the village church, and, under the canopy of leaves, stalls had been set up on two sides of the place. Cheerful queues were forming as people lined up at them for oysters or moules-frites, steaks or magret de canard. Several local winemakers were displaying their wares and doing a roaring trade.
Sara’s attention was caught by a group seated at one of the long tables who were waving animatedly, several bottles of wine open before them. She nudged Thomas, who was busy explaining the offerings at each of the stalls to Lissy and the girls (accompanied by protestations of ‘Oysters? Yuk!’ ‘Eew, mussels!’ ‘I never eat duck...’).
‘Aha! They’re here already. Come and meet my family. And Gina and Cédric too.’
The introductions and customary two-kisses-per-person took some time to complete. ‘My brother, Robert and his wife, Christine. My father, Patrick. And Cédric and Gina Thibault, the uncle and aunt of Héloise.’
Gina hugged Sara warmly. ‘I’ve been looking forward to meeting you. Thomas has told us so much about you!’
‘He has indeed.’ Patrick Cortini, dashing with his white hair and neatly groomed moustache, embraced Sara with enthusiasm. ‘Another beautiful Anglaise who is stealing the hearts of our local men... it is truly the English taking their revenge for the Norman Conquest!’
‘Yes, and you need to release Sara now, Papa,’ said Thomas, reclaiming her for himself. ‘You already have your own English girlfriend, remember?’
And you don’t want me reporting back to my mother that you’ve been two-timing her!’ joked Gina.
‘It was Gina’s mother that Papa was visiting,’ Thomas explained. ‘She’s coming over soon in return, to help with the harve
st.’
Gina smiled. ‘I hope you’re not expecting her to shovel grapeskins and scrub out vats though. I think what she has in mind is more along the lines of helping Christine with the cooking, and playing with her grandchildren.’
‘How many children do you have?’ Sara asked.
‘Three. Luc and Nathalie are my stepchildren and we have baby Pierre. He’s one and a half, toddling around and getting into everything. It’s a good job he’s got his two besotted grandmothers and his adoring half-brother and sister to lend a hand with looking after him or I’d be a complete basket case. They’re babysitting tonight, to give us a night off, which is utter bliss!’
Another complex family, Sara mused. Perhaps it’s actually now the norm to have an assortment of step- and half-siblings. She warmed to Gina instantly.
‘Come and sit down. We were just tasting a range of the wines on offer tonight. We’re in the Bergerac appellation here and there are some very interesting local organic producers.’
‘Ah, Gina, do you never stop working?’ teased Thomas fondly.
‘You know me, Thomas, totally selfless in the eternal quest for delicious wines. It’s a tough job!’
They settled themselves down, joining the noisy throng, and Thomas poured glasses of wine for each of them. The noise level increased steadily in directly inverse relation to the falling level of wine in the bottles. Darkness fell and the strings of fairy lights in the branches above them began to twinkle. Sara glanced down the table, to where her father and Lissy were deep in conversation with Patrick and Robert, who were eager to share their passion for winemaking and to describe the coming harvest. At the other end, Antoine and Héloise were laughing as they exchanged new phrases in English and French with Hannah and Amy, who—Sara was impressed to note—had even put their phones away, the better to enjoy their supper.
She couldn’t remember ever having felt so relaxed at a family meal. Back in England, she associated such gatherings with a sense of tension as she negotiated the undercurrents of hurt, resentment and jealousy that still lurked like jagged rocks just below the surface on both sides of her fractured family, usually resulting in a severe case of indigestion by the time the meal drew to a close. But here, the assembled company ebbed and flowed good-naturedly as people got up to visit the stalls for another delicious course of whatever looked tempting. There was much sharing of dishes. And Hannah was even heard to say, ‘Oh my God! Duck is so my new favourite thing! Who knew it was so delicious? We definitely need to have this at home, Mum.’ Which, come to think of it, was about the longest and most effusive speech Sara had ever heard her make.
The others were teasing Thomas about his newfound DJ-ing skills and he was filling them in with snippets of gossip from his recent brush with rock royalty.
Gina turned to Sara. ‘I hear you’ve done an amazing job at Château Bellevue. Thomas has told us how lovely it’s looking, especially the gardens.’
‘Thanks. You’ll have to come and see it. It’s not finished though—I’ve still got big plans for the landscaping, if I’m still here next year. I hope I can see it through. I have this sense of needing to do it justice. I’m not sure why. Just that its history somehow deserves it, even though I don’t know much about it.’
Gina nodded. ‘It does have quite a history, or so I’ve heard. My mother-in-law Mireille might be able to tell you more. Her family used to own the old mill on the river below the château—where Christine’s parents now live,’ she nodded up the table towards Robert’s wife. ‘Mireille grew up there; it must have been in about the 1930s, because I know she went to work in Paris in her late teens and was there in the war years. But her parents and her younger sister were living in the moulin up until the end of the Second World War, so I’m sure she’d have some stories to tell. Not that people round here like talking about the war much. I suppose it’s a period they’d rather forget on the whole.’
‘I’d love to meet her sometime. And if she could tell me anything more about the château then that’d be great.’
Gina leant in towards Sara so that she could hear her above the cacophony of chatter and laughter that swirled louder around them as music began to blare from the speakers flanking the church.
‘It can’t have been easy, having to keep going after your fiancé left. You must be exhausted by this stage in the season.’
‘A bit,’ Sara admitted. ‘But, you know, at the same time I’m finding that I’ve still really enjoyed trying to make a go of it. And of course Thomas has been a lifesaver—in more ways than one!’
Gina laughed, but then her expression grew serious again as she asked, ‘So do you think you’ll still be here next year?’
Sara shrugged. ‘It’s a bit complicated. I really don’t know at the moment, but I don’t want to think about it for a few more weeks until the season’s over. It depends on several things.’
‘Is one of the “things” Thomas?’ Gina’s voice was low, and she looked directly into Sara’s eyes as she asked this, watching her intently.
Sara dropped her gaze. How could she admit to someone she’d only just met this evening something that she wasn’t even prepared to admit to herself? She glanced down the table again at her dad and her stepmother; her father was handing over some more cash to Hannah and Amy so that they could go and get crêpes-au-chocolat for dessert.
She knew, from experience, that when you want something in life it usually leads to bitter disappointment when you can’t have it. So she’d long ago tried to stop herself from wanting anything too much. The château, her business, the plans for the garden. Thomas. She knew they could soon all go the same way as her other longings: her longing for a home, or at least a place where she would be welcome when there was nowhere else for her to go; her longing for a family that no longer existed; her longing for a dream wedding that had evaporated in the cold light of day with Gavin’s departure.
Raising her eyes to meet Gina’s candid gaze now, she deflected the heaviness of the question with a smile. ‘Ah, well, we’ll have to see. Thomas will most probably be on tour as the warm-up act for The Steel Thornes by then.’
The two women grinned, as they turned to where Cédric and Robert were now teasing Thomas about his taste in music, guffawing with laughter and clapping him on the back.
Thomas noticed they were looking at him. ‘Uh-oh,’ he nudged Cédric. ‘A couple of hot English girls are giving us the eye. Do you think we should ask them to dance?’
‘For sure,’ Cédric grinned back at them. ‘I’ll take the blonde, you take the brunette...’
* * *
Having been whirled around the dance floor by Thomas, and waltzed around somewhat more decorously by his father, Sara felt she’d well and truly worked off her supper by the time they wandered back to the cars at the end of the evening. Progress was slow, with frequent stops to say goodnight to people who knew Thomas and his family, most of whom seemed especially interested to check Sara out. She realised that word of their relationship had most definitely got around already in the local community.
As Gina said goodnight, she hugged Sara once more. ‘It’s been great meeting you at long last. Let’s get together again soon.’
Sara smiled to herself as she got into the car; she felt she’d met a kindred spirit and she was definitely looking forward to getting to know Gina better.
Thomas tooted the horn as he pulled away. Hannah and Amy, giggling happily, had opted to join Antoine and Héloise on the bench seats in the back of the van on the way home.
‘What a lovely evening,’ her father said, climbing into the passenger seat beside her. ‘I do like your new friends. And what a character old Patrick Cortini is!’
And Sara felt a sudden lightness of heart and a surge of affection for her family; dysfunctional it may have been, but perhaps it was no more dysfunctional than anyone else’s these days. The mixture of three generations and two cultures in the simple setting of the village market had turned out to be the recipe for a perfect e
vening. Thanks to you, Thomas, she thought.
* * *
She hurried back from seeing her family off at the airport in order to tidy and clean up after them, so that there’d be a minimum of work for the team to do in preparation for the next weekend’s wedding. Thomas had left to go over to Château de la Chapelle, helping Robert and his father make a start with the preparations for the harvest. She hummed as she remade the beds, shaking out the crisply laundered sheets that smelled of fresh air and sunshine and smoothing down the pretty bedcovers.
Suddenly she paused, listening. For a moment she thought she’d heard voices outside. She opened the window and leant out. And then, jumping with shock, nearly lost her balance and fell headlong onto the ground below as she realised that Gavin was standing there beneath her, accompanied by the estate agent who’d helped them buy the château two years before.
Shaking with rage, she hurried downstairs, trying to gather her thoughts. ‘Monsieur Bonneval,’ she held out a hand to the agent. ‘And Gavin too.’ She didn’t bother holding out her hand to him. ‘Well this is a surprise.’
‘Hello, Sara.’ He took half a step towards her, as if he was about to kiss her cheek, but Sara folded her arms and leant away almost imperceptibly, the agent’s presence preventing her from telling Gavin what she really felt like saying. Anger coursed through her veins like molten lava.
Oblivious, the estate agent looked about him. ‘What a transformation! I’m looking forward to seeing inside too, now you’ve finished the work,’ he enthused. ‘I’m delighted to take this property on again and in fact I just may have a client who’d be interested. Depending on your asking price, of course. I’m afraid it’s still very much a buyer’s market at the moment.’
