Wish You Were Here by Catherine Alliott

him just outside Valence.’
    What could I do but shake the hand of the tall, attractive man who was advancing, murmuring, ‘
Enchanté
,’ his smile reaching right up to his sleepy sea-green eyes, which crinkled at the edges.
    My smile was a great deal tighter than his and, although I managed to say something in response, it certainly wasn’t ‘
Enchanté
’. Luckily, Lizzie was alive to the situation and appeared like magic to move him swiftly on to meet the others. Mum was oblivious, naturally, cigarette already alight, eyes, too, as they followed Jean-Claude’s lean silhouette on its way.
    ‘We stopped off at his antique shop,’ she went on in a low, excited voice. ‘Such a dear little place, we spotted it because it had the prettiest things for sale outside. Darling little bistro chairs, birdcages, baskets – just the sort of shabby-chic things I like – and inside, we found poor Jean-Claude slumped behind his desk. He’d got a terrible attack of the glums because he needed to get to the
brocante
fair in Aix for more stock – he’d practically run
out – but his van had broken down. So I said we’d take him. Wasn’t that lucky?’
    ‘Very. So he’s off to Aix, is he?’ I kept the bright smile going, admittedly slightly encouraged by this news.
    ‘Oh, yes. Eventually.’
    ‘Right. So how long is he staying?’
    ‘Just a few days. You know how it is.’
    I did. Just a few days could turn into months with my mother, and in the case of one particular character called Neville, years. ‘Is he your stepfather?’ the children at school would ask. ‘Yes. No. I don’t know.’ I didn’t. What constituted a stepfather? Someone who took you to ballet and swimming (he never did that) or someone who slept with your mother (he certainly did that) before sliding off to some dodgy record company he ran just off the King’s Road. Neville, Charles, Tommy, Casper … all pleasant men, none violent or unkind to me – my mother picked well – but just not what I wanted. Not what I’d read about in Enid Blyton. I wanted a mother who made jam, a father who came home in a suit, a brother called Tim and a dog called Rufus.
    ‘He’s the most terrific cook. He’s been telling us about how to marinate hams and smoke fish properly. And he does all sorts of fascinating things with pickles.’
    ‘We have a cook. And you know all about pickles, you’re forever getting yourself into one.’
    ‘Oh, darling, don’t be a bore, he’s terribly amusing. And the children will love him.’
    ‘Is he a boyfriend, Mum?’
    ‘Oh, boyfriend, shmoyfriend …’ She waved her
cigarette airily. Saw my face. ‘No, of course not,’ she said quickly. ‘But he is frightfully attractive, don’t you think?’
    He’d gone to help Lizzie with more luggage from the car and was well out of earshot now.
    ‘Mum, you promised!’ I hissed.
    ‘I promised no more unsuitable younger men. But he’s older than he looks, darling. At least fifty.’
    ‘But what will the Brig and the others think?’
    ‘Oh, the Brig won’t mind, you know what he’s like. He’s on cracking form, incidentally. Looks divine in his summer gear, very tropical.’
    ‘You’ve seen him?’
    ‘We bumped into him and Rachel on the boat. They were staying at hotels on the way down, too – in fact, we thought they’d beat us here. Sally and her new man are making their way separately.’ Her face puckered a moment and she looked worried. ‘Flora, speaking of Sally’s new man, Lizzie told me something rather disturbing in the car. She had a chat with Rachel on the boat, and it seems Sally has hooked up with someone … well, someone rather surprising. It appears she’s lost a bit of weight and she ran into him while she was cooking at a rather grand house party in Fife. Flora –’
    ‘Granny!’
    ‘Darlings!’ She broke off suddenly, her face wreathed in smiles as her granddaughters came running across the lawn towards her. Having met Jean-Claude, they