‘If you’re happy with that, then great. But I want us to have the best start, Lexie, and it’s important to me that you understand that I need you, more than I need the house.’
He replaces the croissant on the tray, and I grab his hand before he can retract it.
‘If you let it out, then it’s a place we can return to as a couple for holidays ourselves and where better? Who knows what the future might bring, anyway? For now, take the only decision you can that makes any sense at all.’
He closes his eyes for a moment, moved by my words.
‘Let’s do this. I know the moment you’re gone I’m going to be desperate to join you, so I’ll start the ball rolling straight away. I know it’s quick, but I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life than I am about you.’ He leans in to seal the deal with a lingering kiss and before pulling away trails his fingers down over my shoulder. My skin tingles at his touch, as I imagine what it will be like waking up next to him every single day of my life.
‘Me, neither. Now get into party mode. Everyone is arriving at noon and it’s going to be a full-on day.’
There are going to be some surprised faces on my return, when I break the news. If only we were flying back together it wouldn’t feel quite so daunting. I know that once they get to know him, they’ll see what a wonderful man Ronan is and why he captured my heart. But the parting isn’t going to be easy and that weighs heavily upon us both.
There are few clouds in the sky today, and it’s a brilliant blue – the sort of colour that is mesmerising and when it catches your attention you can’t help but gaze upwards. It’s one of those days when your heart soars because you feel so happy to be alive and spring is a reminder that summer is coming.
With two hours to go, Philippe and a group of guys are all still working on the fountain. It’s a clever, romantic and slightly crazy idea, but who doesn’t love the sound of water in the background? Although so far, it’s more of a dribble than a cascade.
Philippe has set it up in the middle of the courtyard and an electrical wire runs into Renée’s house. It’s all been taped securely to the cobbled floor and we rearranged the tables so there’s no fear of anyone tripping over it.
With my car parked out on the street first thing this morning, Ronan and I had a tidy up and were able to set the long trestle table up inside the opening to the garage, creating a little more space in the courtyard. Moving the ladders to the rear, we stacked the boxes of beer, wine and water to obscure the general garage muddles. There was even some bunting left over and Ronan managed to hang it from the wooden beam above the opening.
There’s a huge half-barrel of ice now, too, after a delivery van turned up and several of the guys helped to carry in the heavy plastic bags. I’m buffing glasses, as Ronan finishes off lining everything up. He’s waiting for Philippe to come and instruct him on how to make up the cocktails and we have two of the largest silver punch bowls I’ve ever seen, ready and waiting.
There’s a loud gasp and finally the little drizzle from the fountain has turned into an enormous shower, raining down on the guys who have been trying to figure out what was blocking the flow of water. There’s a little raucous laughter and I guess that whatever was causing the problem has now been flushed through.
Well, a party in Versailles wouldn’t be quite the same without a fountain, now would it? After a little adjustment to the flow, there’s a big round of applause and Solange appears, the rowdy celebration having filtered through into Renée’s kitchen.
‘Magnifique!’ she declares, her hands flying up to her face, which sports a look of pure joy. Behind her Renée’s face is a picture, too.
I stop buffing for a moment and gaze around. This is the embodiment of quintessentially French chic, and it couldn’t be more romantic because of that. The tables and chairs are weathered and charming; the floral displays add a glorious profusion of colour in alternating pink and white. The bunting is delightful, fluttering in the breeze like gossamer wings, and frames the courtyard as it hangs from the trees. The long buffet table is covered in beautiful white antique lace tablecloths, ready and waiting to display a homemade feast.
The front of number six now has its own pop-up garden, with an array of silver pots full of gorgeous white lilies and tall, leafy stems of various types of greenery. Two of Solange’s friends arrived with their arms full, first thing this morning. Already I can breathe in and capture the pungent eucalyptus, sweet bay, vibrant rosemary and wisps of ivy.
‘You’re loving this, aren’t you?’ Ronan sidles up to me, interrupting my little moment of sheer bliss.
‘This is idyllic.’
And it really is. My time here in France may be limited, but I’ll always have my memories of this most perfect springtime at Versailles. And when I do have to leave, Ronan will join me as soon as he can. To have both of our families around us will be a blessing and the best start we could have asked for.
He leans in to kiss me and whispers, ‘I promise you one thing – I’m going to make sure you get the party of your dreams when it’s our turn, my darling.’
I grin, shaking my head and laughing. ‘Flowers, French delicacies and fountains… hmm. I think maybe Prosecco, pizza and posh raincoats – it is the UK we’re talking about, after all.’
He leans back. ‘There’s a true romantic in here, you know, and I’m going to embrace it,’ he says, tapping his chest with his hand. ‘Who says we can’t bring a little Versailles magic to wherever we end up living together?’
At this moment the sky couldn’t be any bluer and the birds couldn’t sing any louder. As I stare deep into Ronan’s eyes my heart soars. He loves me every bit as I’ve come to love him. What more could any woman ask for to make her life complete?
When Solange started to panic about the numbers yesterday, she was right. On the stroke of noon, a steady stream of partygoers makes its way into the courtyard. The guys have only just finished stringing lights in the trees, as this party promises to stretch way into the evening.
Solange is visibly nervous awaiting the arrival of her parents, but I’m caught up helping Ronan behind the bar and it’s probably an hour later before I catch sight of her talking to her father.
‘Ronan, do you think Solange is okay?’ I nod in her direction and he cranes his neck to see what’s going on.
‘I can’t tell from here. Should I wander across?’
‘Would you mind? He doesn’t have a drink. Maybe use that as an excuse and bring him over here to distract him?’
I watch as Ronan interrupts them, and he boldly offers Solange’s father his hand. They shake and all seems well, but Solange turns to glance in my direction. I can tell from her expression that she needs rescuing. Thankfully, the two men turn and walk towards me, engaged in conversation.
Ronan introduces me as his girlfriend and Monsieur Forand shakes my hand rather formally. There’s an awkward silence and I decide that, rather than struggling to string together some suitable words, I’ll ask Ronan to interpret for me.
‘Ronan, can you tell Monsieur Forand that I am very pleased to meet him? Solange has become a very good friend and I know he and his wife must be very proud of their daughter. She is such a hard worker and her love for the Palace of Versailles is a credit to her. Solange and Philippe have spent hours pulling everything together to make this such a special day to share with their family and friends. It couldn’t be more perfect, and I’m honoured to be a part of it.’