A Gown of Thorns: A Gripping Novel of Romance, Intrigue and the Secrets of a Vintage Parisian Dress Read Online Free Page B

finish the holidays well ahead in their studies. Two hours a day, nothing but English.’
    ‘What will we talk about?’ Nico’s eyes burned with anxiety.
    ‘You can show me Chemignac and the vines,’ Shauna suggested. ‘I’d like to see them.’ And Laurent, just possibly.
    ‘They’re boring.’ Nico wrinkled his nose. ‘Lumps of green with silly grapes on them. All of Chemignac is boring, apart from the horses.’
    ‘My grandchildren are sports mad, as you must have noticed. But like you, they can read and study when they set their minds to it.’ Isabelle got up to cover a plate of food with silver foil, explaining, ‘I’m taking this next door. Oncle Albert won’t eat with me while the children are here. He cannot bear modern manners. Olive, go fetch some books to show Shauna. Nico, fetch the apple tart from the pantry. Shauna, help yourself to another glass of wine. It’s our 2001 Sauvignon Blanc. What do you think? Not a bad year.’
    It tasted exquisite to her, though to be fair, pub Chardonnay was the limit of her experience. Shauna watched the children doing their grandmother’s bidding and knew that she liked them.’ Should have boned up on Arsenal and Chelsea, though.
    Olive came down with Le Seigneur des Anneaux – the French translation of The Lord of the Rings – announcing that J.R.R. Tolkien was the best writer in the universe, ever. Recognising common ground, Shauna said, ‘Why don’t we get hold of the English version and read it together?’
    ‘Laurent has an English copy,’ Nico piped.
    ‘Repeat that in English,’ Shauna commanded. They might as well start as they meant to go on. Nico struggled through the sentence, then reverted to French. ‘Let’s go find him. He’ll be in the chai .’
    ‘What’s—’
    But the children were already outside. They moved fast, Shauna was discovering, out of sight before she’d put on the straw hat Isabelle had found for her.

    S hauna guessed the direction the children were heading in. Leaving the courtyard by a side gate, she found herself on a track lined with the spindle-shaped cypress trees that were the predominant vertical feature in this landscape of vines. Ahead stood a huddle of stone outbuildings and she saw the children dash into one. Presumably the chai – pronounced ‘shay’. She found the door they’d left half-open. Breathing deeply as butterflies took off in her stomach at the thought of seeing Laurent, she stepped inside and – before she could catch herself – said, ‘Wow!’
    Built of venerable old stone in keeping with the rest of Chemignac, inside the chai was as slick as any modern food-processing unit. Its walls were panelled with fibreglass sheets and its concrete floor shone wet, evidence of a recent hosing. Hearing the pulse of water hitting a hard surface, she followed a snaking hosepipe. As she approached the source of the noise, she began to understand that Clos de Chemignac was no small wine-making concern – not if the ten or so towering silver vats were all full at once. A line of handsome oak barrels stole her attention, but she didn’t count them because she saw the children just then. They were peering inside the porthole of what looked like a concrete bunker, their voices echoing over the hiss of water.
    ‘Laurent!’ they shouted. ‘Laurent! She’s here!’
    Glancing over Nico’s shoulder, Shauna got a spray of cold water in the face. Laurent was inside the bunker, which was a couple of feet taller than him – about the dimensions of a very small bedroom. Noticing her, he grinned. The first smile she’d had from him and it turned her blood to warm syrup. Get a grip, girl. He was absolutely drenched. Barefoot, too. Water spewed out of the sluice holes onto the giggling children. ‘Go turn off the tap!’ Laurent yelled at them, and the children ran to do it. When the jet ceased, he asked Shauna, ‘Have you come for a wash?’
    Bereft of a witty retort, Shauna said, ‘I’ll pass,