A French Wedding by Hannah Tunnicliffe Page A

me. Or, better yet, buy me tickets to Paris. Heard of the Eurostar?’
    â€˜Have you heard of the Eurostar?’ Max counters. ‘You could come see me.’
    â€˜I’m not buying train tickets to come see you when I don’t know where you are from one week to the next. You could be touring New Zealand for all I know. I mean, you invited us here and then turned up late.’
    Max reaches out for Nina’s cheek. ‘I’m sorry, Mumma Bear. Will you forgive me?’
    Rosie laughs but Nina pretends to be annoyed. ‘No.’
    Lars comes into the kitchen. ‘Max!’
    â€˜Lars, mate!’
    They hug each other tight and then Lars rubs Max’s bald head, tousling hair that isn’t there. ‘Need a cut, mate.’
    â€˜Yeah, yeah. Funny. The girls don’t seem to mind.’
    â€˜Bet the girls love it,’ Lars says, winking, his blond eyelashes catching the light.
    Nina shakes her head. ‘How old do we have to get before you stop calling us all “girls”?’
    â€˜Do we offend you?’ Max asks, smiling.
    â€˜I don’t mind it. Makes me feel young,’ Rosie says, fingers wrapped around a teacup.
    â€˜It’s so belittling,’ Nina grumbles.
    Lars goes to her and kisses her head. ‘How you feeling about the big four-oh?’ he asks Max.
    â€˜Your girl just asked me that.’
    â€˜First cab off the rank,’ Lars says, warningly.
    â€˜You’ll all catch up soon enough.’
    â€˜Not for a little while …’ Rosie mumbles into her tea.
    â€˜You cut the path, Max, we’ll follow your lead,’ Lars says.
    â€˜God help us,’ Nina replies.
    Max inhales, puffing out his chest. ‘Well, I’m not planning on changing very much, mate. Am thinking of keeping up the same diet and exercise regime …’
    â€˜Which is?’ Nina asks.
    â€˜Booze, smokes, drugs and shagging,’ Lars answers and they all laugh, including Juliette, who is facing the window.
    â€˜That’s it,’ Max agrees. ‘I’m going to write a book about it. You interested in publishing it, Nina?’
    Nina grimaces. ‘Rock’n’Roll Method to an Early Grave?’
    Max laughs. ‘Ouch.’
    Juliette passes around the fresh bread and jam and serves Max his coffee. Rosie pats Max’s arm and leaves to get changed and check on Hugo. After a few sips of coffee, Max clears his throat.
    â€˜Where’s Helen?’
    Lars grins. ‘Was wondering how long it’d take you to ask that.’
    â€˜Picking up her sister,’ Juliette says.
    â€˜Oh, right.’ Max nods, remembering the message on his phone. His heart sinks.
    He tries not to feel disappointed. But his body aches for the dream that vanished too fast this morning. The silk shirt, the scent of her skin. Max shudders, tries to shake it off. Disappointment is a pathetic wimp of an emotion. Useless. He has a brief memory of his father’s breath on his face. Don’t give me that look! What have you got to be sad about? Max takes a quick, bracing breath. He has his friends. He loves Rosie and Nina, he loves Lars. He has missed Lars. Lars’s way in the world. Like there is never an emergency, like everything is gonna be alright, just like the song.
    â€˜How does Helen suddenly have a sister?’ Lars asks.
    â€˜I don’t think it’s a real sister,’ says Max. ‘She’s her dad’s daughter. ’
    â€˜Half-sister,’ Nina says.
    â€˜No, not even. Her dad married that Spanish woman, what was her name?’
    â€˜Oh. That’s right. The one that looked like that actress … what was her name?’
    â€˜Anyway, she had a daughter before they were married. Soleil? She and Helen were close; Helen practically raised her for a few years. Then her dad and what’s-her-name –’ Max says.
    â€˜Mariposa!’ Nina supplies.
    â€˜That’s it. Mariposa and