Read The French for Always for Free Online

language, flushing bright scarlet whenever addressed directly. And especially, Sara had noticed, when in the presence of the Héls Belles.
    ‘Okay, great. Let’s focus on this coming weekend then.’ Sara handed each member of the team a photocopied programme with details of the next wedding and their shifts. She pulled her glasses down from where they perched on top of her head and scanned the programme. ‘So it’s a pretty straightforward one this time. The house party here Thursday to Monday, the wedding on Saturday afternoon, the usual timing for the service and then straight on into the photos, drinks and meal. Antoine’s on the bar. The florist will be in first thing on Saturday morning and the caterers will be in after lunch to set up. Henri Dupont is taking the photos, so he knows the form.’
    ‘ Ooh là-là! Better wear our steel knickers, girls,’ laughed Karen.
    ‘I know, I know,’ Sara sighed, shaking her head. ‘But he does take a good photo. And he’s local. And not completely extortionate when it comes to pricing. We aren’t exactly spoilt for choice around here.
    ‘Now, any questions, anyone? Then let’s get started on the bedrooms. Hélène, can you give the windows in the big sitting room and the snug a clean please? And Héloise, could you do a pass with the feather duster to get the cobwebs off the beams? I noticed a couple in the barn.’ It was a relief to focus on the business in hand, moving forward to the next event.
    ‘Don’t worry, Sara, we’ve got it under control,’ said Karen, beginning to sort bottles of cleaning materials into four buckets.
    Sara re-scanned the papers on the table in front of her. ‘The only thing I haven’t managed to put in place yet is a DJ. I don’t suppose any of you knows someone locally who might be able to stand in for the next six Saturdays? I’ll have to ring round and see if anyone’s free.’
    Karen whistled through her teeth. ‘That’s not going to be easy at such short notice and at the height of the season. Can’t you just set a playlist running?’
    ‘Not really.’ Sara picked up some stapled sheets from the pile of papers. ‘Gavin was really good at tailoring the music for each wedding; it makes all the difference between a so-so party and a great one.’
    Just then they were interrupted by the sound of a vehicle pulling up at the kitchen door, its radio blaring out ‘ Let Me Entertain You ’ at full volume. Karen glanced through the window and turned to Sara with a grin. ‘Well, well. What a coincidence!’
    The music was switched off as suddenly as the van’s engine and there was a tap at the door. ‘ Coucou! Le vin est arrivé! ’
    ‘Aha! Thomas, the very man,’ said Karen.
    ‘ Oh là-là . I used to think the British had the worst French accents in the world, but now I know it’s the Australians. How many times do I have to tell you, it’s To- mah . The emphasis on the second syllable; no ‘s’?’
    ‘Okay, okay, Tommy-boy, keep your beret on! Honestly, you French are always so nitpicky.’
    This good-natured exchange of insults over, Thomas Cortini began unloading the delivery of wine from his family’s vineyard in the next valley over, Château de la Chapelle. As Antoine helped him carry the boxes into the cellar, Karen nudged Sara. ‘Why don’t you ask him to DJ? He’d be ideal,’ she hissed.
    ‘D’you think he might do it? I hate to ask him. He’s probably too busy.’
    ‘Beggars can’t be choosers. And anyhow, now is the quiet time for winemakers. They leave the vines alone for the last few weeks leading up to the harvest so the grapes can ripen naturally.’ Karen’s husband had a workshop that maintained agricultural machinery, so she had her finger on the pulse of the local farming community. ‘Ask him,’ she urged again. ‘You’ve got nothing to lose.’
    Thomas came back into the kitchen with the paperwork for the delivery. He was a good-looking guy, the easy-going second son of Château de