A French Wedding (29 page)

‘Helen?'

‘I didn't want to bother you. You looked busy.' She gestures towards the inside of the
boulangerie
.

Oh.' Juliette replies, heart racing.

‘It's really lovely. The tiles, paint … You've done such a good job.'

‘Thank you,' Juliette replies. Her throat is drying up, the words sticking. ‘Max came in,' she says, changing the subject. ‘He seems well.'

‘Yes, he's doing much, much better,' Helen says, nodding. ‘He needed what happened. The charges. Rehab, of course.' She's speaking quickly, nervous. ‘He has taken a break from the band. Did he tell you? He is writing new songs.'

‘That's great.'

‘You know Eddie and Beth had their baby?'

‘Sonny. Yes, I heard.'

‘And Rosie?' Helen pauses, voice slowing. ‘Her and Hugo? No longer …'

‘Yes, I heard that too.'

Helen glances at her feet. ‘The split has been tough on her. But she has the boys. And Fleet. She will be okay.'

‘Of course,' Juliette reassures. She looks down at the brass herb scissors in her hand. Helen reaches out to her, holding a small gift. A tiny bundle of dark purple flowers, tied with a green ribbon.

‘I haven't stopped thinking about what you told me in Paris,' she says softly. ‘Will you sit with me for a moment?'

Juliette lowers herself onto the bench. Helen breathes in deeply, the ivy leaves behind her shimmying in the breeze. ‘Do you remember when you told me about Tristan and Iseult? In the kitchen that day?'

Juliette nods.

‘When I got back to New York I bought a book about the legend and read it I don't know how many times. I guess I kept hoping it might end differently.'

Juliette thinks of the book she still keeps in the room her mother and father used to share. It is her room now. With new paint and a new bed, new bed linen.

Helen shifts and straightens. ‘I said tragedies are the stories that stick, remember that? And that I had never seen it … happily ever after.'

‘I remember,' Juliette murmurs, looking away from her. It is enough to be this close to Helen, to see the skin of her legs below her trousers and before her shoes, patent ballet flats, to sense the warmth of her body right there, and the movement of her hair out of the corner of her eye.

‘I'm still not sure it is for me. I don't know if it is possible. Or if I deserve it.'

Juliette looks at her then. Helen's eyes are round and dark. She reaches out and takes Juliette's hand in hers. Her skin is soft and cool, her fingers lacing with Juliette's easily, like they'd been made to do so. ‘But I'd like to try.'

‘Helen, I –'

‘I know it took me too long.'

‘It's not that …'

‘Juliette, I've thought about it a lot. There is no King Mark, no curse or poisoned arrows. Nothing to befall us unless we ruin it ourselves.'

Juliette runs her thumb along the side of Helen's hand. She marvels at the way her skin feels and at the combination of peace and buzzing, racing joy she feels flooding her chest.

‘I know it might hurt.' Helen whispers. ‘But I'm not going to change my mind.' Juliette nods.

‘Please come to the wedding,' Helen urges, gently squeezing Juliette's fingers. ‘Nina looks so beautiful, you have to see her. So well. She wants you there and Lars does too. Sophie, Rosie … All of us, Juliette, truly. It wouldn't be the same without you. That weekend changed us all.'

Juliette knows it did, she had felt it too. An unravelling that meant rearranging herself, her life, in a whole new way. Weaving the threads back together differently. It had been that way for all of them. There was no unbinding them now.

‘Please?' Helen's voice is light and sweet, Juliette meets her gaze again. ‘With me?' she adds.

‘Okay.' Juliette whispers.

Helen shifts closer and places her head against Juliette's shoulder. She exhales like a weight has lifted. Juliette looks down at Helen's face, her lips soft, her hand still tightly wrapped around hers. Like a gull stretching out to ride the invisible currents in the air, trust in its pointed wings, Juliette feels hope broaden and open her heart. She looks up for a brief moment at the pale, cloud-veiled spring sky and smiles.

Lavender's blue, dilly dilly

Lavender's green.

When you are king, dilly dilly

I shall be queen

Who told you so, dilly dilly

'Twas my own heart, dilly dilly

That told me so.

Lars Johnsson and Nina Wright, together with their daughter, Sophie, warmly welcome you to their wedding

Processional song: ‘Landslide' by Fleetwood Mac, performed by Claudine Moreau (singer) and Etienne Reynauld (violin)

Reading: ‘i carry your heart' by e.e. Cummings, read by Rosie O'Connor

Recessional song: ‘Wonder' written and performed by Max Dresner

Every thing you gave me, saved

Every word, every gesture

Is a treasure,

Lock of baby's hair

A wisp, a curl

A thing no longer

Makes you wonder –

What a wonder

To wish you well

To wish you better

To be better too –

What is left

After the notes have faded

A Nothing Something

Riches of Nothing Somethings.

A wisp, a curl

A thing no longer

Makes you wonder –

What a wonder

To wish you well

To wish you better

To be better too –

Join us for eating, drinking, dancing and laughing after the ceremony. Take your shoes off. Let your hair down. Stay as long as you like.

Thank you for sharing this day with us and the days before and the ones that will come after.

With all our love

Acknowledgements

As always I am indebted to a great many people for their contribution, kindness and support, without which this book simply would not exist.

So much love and gratitude to: Veronique Guilloteau, Sid and Monique Nedjar, Agnes and Claude Francois, Marie Chesneau, Mahé Correlleur and the people of Douarnenez, Brittany for sharing their magnificent country and language with me; the dedicated teams at Inkwell Management and Pan Macmillan Australia including Alexandra Craig, Catherine Drayton, Emma Rafferty, Mathilda Imlah, Clare Keighery, and Karen McKenzie for essential, often invisible hard work; Brianne Collins, Elizabeth Ireland, Ria Voros, Glenys Tunnicliffe, Kendall Stewart and Lucie Geappen for reading drafts and providing tireless encouragement; Alayna Wilton and Sam and Jo Hallinan for research assistance; and Moana Salmon, Tunnicliffes, Ballestys, Wattses, Olds, Stewarts, all the friends and family who make up the very best team of cheerleaders a person could wish for. Plus, a huge serving of appreciation and adoration to my girls: Wren, Noa and Bonnie, who save me from too much selfishness, solemnity, overthinking and going to the bathroom without company; and my guy: Matt, comic, enthusiast, protector, co-ringleader of this crazy circus and true love. Life is a beautiful, madcap adventure with you four to share it with.

Finally, this book is dedicated to my parents: Robert and Glenys Tunnicliffe, for reading and telling my siblings and me so many stories and, most importantly, giving us the love and courage to write our own.
Merci mille fois
.

About Hannah Tunnicliffe

Hannah Tunnicliffe is the author of two previous novels,
The Colour of Tea
and
Season of Salt and Honey.
She is founder and co-author of the blog ‘Fork and Fiction', which explores her twin loves – books and food. Although a self-confessed nomad, she currently lives in New Zealand with her husband and daughters.

Also by Hannah Tunnicliffe

The Colour of Tea

Season of Salt and Honey

First published 2016 in Macmillan by Pan Macmillan Australia Pty Ltd

1 Market Street, Sydney, New South Wales, Australia, 2000

Copyright © Hannah Tunnicliffe 2016

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

All rights reserved. This publication (or any part of it) may not be reproduced or transmitted, copied, stored, distributed or otherwise made available by any person or entity (including Google, Amazon or similar organisations), in any form (electronic, digital, optical, mechanical) or by any means (photocopying, recording, scanning or otherwise) without prior written permission from the publisher.

This ebook may not include illustrations and/or photographs that may have been in the print edition.

Cataloguing-in-Publication entry is available

from the National Library of Australia

http://catalogue.nla.gov.au

EPUB format: 9781925479003

Typeset by Post Pre-press Group

Cover image: Trevillion Images; Getty

Cover design: Emily O'Neill

This is a work of fiction. Characters, institutions and organisations mentioned in this novel
are either the product of the author's imagination or, if real, used fictitiously without any intent to describe actual conduct.

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