“I think it would be a good idea to work with Hector this week. Get to know the place a bit,” Ava suggested.
Jean-Paul was not amused. His face clouded but he made no complaint. “Bon,” he said briskly. “If that is what you want.”
“I do,” she replied. “It’s not all creative.”
“So I see.”
“You’ll get very fit.”
“I’m already fit.” He spat the words, flashing his eyes at her angrily from under his eyelashes. “I’m going to light the bonfire. I was wondering whether the children are home. They might like to help me.”
“I’m going to pick them up now. They’d love to help.”
“Good. I will wait.”
“Have a cup of tea in the kitchen. You’ve worked hard all day. Have a rest.”
He shook his head. “No. I have a few more loads to take to the fire.”
“I’ll send the children up with marshmallows.”
“Marshmallows?”
“You don’t know what they are?” He shook his head. “Then it will be a surprise. They’ll love showing you.” His features softened. She smiled at him, but he did not return the smile.
She drove to school, debating her actions, justifying the jobs she had made Jean-Paul do with Hector. He wasn’t here on holiday. It wasn’t meant to be a picnic. What did he expect? At least the weather was good. If he was sulky in sunshine, what in God’s name was he going to be like in rain and snow? She consoled herself that he would soon be gone. He wouldn’t last until winter. She’d never know what he was like in snow and he would never see the wonder of her garden in summer.
The children were thrilled at the prospect of showing Jean-Paul how to roast marshmallows. Poppy waved a picture of a sunflower in front of her face. “Darling, not while I’m driving. I don’t care whether you’re Gauguin or Matisse. Let’s get home alive, shall we?”
The boys compared stickers they had swapped in the playground. “Robert told me that we can write to Asterix and they’ll send us a whole box of stickers,” said Angus.
“A whole box?” replied Archie breathlessly, looking down at his handful of Esso tigers.
Ava listened to them in amusement. This week stickers, last week conkers, next week something else.
Back at home they ran to the vegetable garden where Hector and Jean-Paul were standing in front of an enormous mountain of leaves and cardboard boxes. The sky had clouded over and it was getting cold. Ava followed with the bag of marshmallows.
“I want to show him!” cried Poppy, skipping up to her mother. “Please, can I!”
Ava opened the packet and handed her daughter a pink marshmallow and stick. “All right, but let me help you,” she said, taking her hand.
Jean-Paul had regained his color. He no longer looked angry. He watched the boys take a handful of marshmallows each and give one to him.
“You have to put it on a stick,” said Archie importantly. “Otherwise you’ll burn your fingers.”
“Thank you,” said Jean-Paul. “I would not want to burn my fingers.”
“I burned my finger once,” volunteered Angus, holding it up. “But Mummy put a bandage on it and it got better.”
“Your mother is very clever,” said Jean-Paul seriously.
“Watch!” Poppy shouted, holding her marshmallow in a bright yellow flame until it caught a little flame of its own. “See!” she hissed excitedly, standing stone still as if she held a poisonous snake on the end of her stick.
“Right, you can take it out now,” said Ava.
“Blow, Mummy!” Ava brought it to her mouth and blew. It had melted into a sticky sugary ball. “Can I eat it now?” she asked. Ava tested it on her lips, blew again, then handed it to her daughter. Poppy pulled it off and popped the marshmallow into her mouth. She smiled in delight. “Yummy!” she exclaimed.
“Have a go,” Ava said to Jean-Paul. “Consider this your initiation into the garden. If you pass this, you can be a member of our club, can’t he, Hector?”
Hector nodded. He leaned on his pitchfork, watching the children contentedly.
Jean-Paul held his marshmallow over the fire while the boys shouted instructions at him. The Frenchman indulged them, doing as he was told, asking questions to make them feel important. Ava noticed how sweet he was with the children and how much they enjoyed having him around, especially the boys. He was someone new to show off to. Inside him there was a boyishness they were drawn to.
The marshmallow event drew them all together. The sun went down behind the garden wall, setting the tops of the trees ablaze with a bright golden light. The sky darkened, the air grew moist, the wind turned cold. But they were hot in front of the fire. The mountain diminished into a low mound of embers, glowing like molten copper each time a gust of wind swept over them. They ate all the marshmallows.