Free The French for Always by Fiona Valpy Page A

combined effects of the chill of the deeper water and the flood of adrenaline that coursed through her body like quicksilver.
    Side by side, they struck out for the bank, hauling themselves onto the grass on the far side of the river. They collapsed, gasping and laughing, the sun immediately starting to warm their goose-pimpled skin and dry their wet T-shirts and shorts.
    Sara sat up. ‘Thomas Cortini! Isn’t it dangerous to swim near a weir?’
    ‘Of course. You have to know what you’re doing. But this river is small and slow-flowing enough, as long as you’re over this side and keep away from the sluice.’ He sat up beside her, hugging his knees, and gave her a sideways grin. ‘Anyway, you jumped too. You obviously trusted me!’
    ‘It wasn’t that at all; it was just because I thought you might need saving,’ she retorted, mock primly. She combed her fingers through her wet hair. ‘Lucky my watch is waterproof.’ She glanced at the time. Gone half past two. But suddenly she found she didn’t care about the time for once, and she flopped back onto the grass, closing her eyes against the bright sunshine. On this side of the river, the roar of the sluice was hushed. Fluting, liquid birdsong floated through the canopy of branches above them. They stayed like that for a while, side by side, in companionable silence, allowing the warmth of the dappled sunlight to soak into their skin.
    Finally Thomas got to his feet and offered her his hand. ‘Ready to walk back across?’
    As they packed up the picnic things, Sara shooed a couple of wasps away from the sticky plates. Thomas winced defensively as one flew in his direction. She laughed. ‘Not scared to dive into a fast-flowing river, but frightened of a tiny wasp?’
    He grinned at her again. ‘Ah, you’ve discovered my Achilles’ heel, I am indeed a coward. But with good reason. I’m allergic to their stings.’
    ‘Better stand back then and let me do this.’
    He sighed. ‘Are you always so independent and capable?’
    ‘When I have to be, yes.’
    ‘In that case, I have no doubt that you are going to stay on at Château Bellevue and make your business a huge success,’ said Thomas, suddenly serious.
    ‘Well, I shall expect you to send me postcards from all over the world,’ Sara replied. ‘And Thomas? Thanks for today. For sharing this beautiful place with me. It was just what I needed.’

Matthew & Hamish
    M atthew and Hamish

    i nvite you to come and help celebrate their union

    o n Saturday , the 11th of August at 4.30 p.m
    at Château Bellevue de Coulliac, France
    RSVP
    55 Northumberland Place, Edinburgh EH3 5LR
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    T homas looked bemused . The team was assembled around the kitchen table for the Tuesday morning briefing and Sara had just handed him the request list for Saturday’s event.
    ‘What is “ The Gay Gordons ”? And “ Strip the Willow ”? And then we have a “ Foursome ”. And then, mon Dieu , an “ Eightsome ”! When I signed up to be your DJ I didn’t think I’d have to get involved in anything like that. Oh là-là , there have been rumours about what you English get up to at these parties at Château Bellevue, but I never imagined they were really true!’
    Antoine and the Héls Belles were also looking a little alarmed.
    Karen guffawed. ‘Never been to a gay wedding before then, Tommy-boy?’
    ‘Don’t worry, Thomas,’ Sara patted his hand comfortingly. ‘It’s Scottish dancing. Hamish and Matthew want to kick off the party with some reels. It’s fantastic; you’re going to love it. One of their friends is going to be the caller, to tell everyone the steps. All we have to do is download some Scottish dance music. I’ll help you find what we need.’
    Sara scanned her notes. ‘Hamish and Matthew are entering into a Civil Partnership in Edinburgh. But because that’s not exactly romantic, they’re also having a short, unofficial ceremony in the garden here, to re-exchange their vows in front of their