‘Christ, Marie-Claire, you’d give up the chance of a lifetime to be at a damn birthday party? We’re going places, you and me. Get a grip.’

‘Yup, I’m going places – I’m going home,’ she said mildly. ‘Look, Marc, I’m . . .’ She struggled to find a word that would wound without being offensive. ‘I’m very, very fond’ – that was so delightfully insipid, she thought proudly – ‘very, very fond of you,’ she repeated for good measure—

‘Fond! You’re fond of me?’ He said it so loudly the diners at the next table stared over with undisguised curiosity. ‘You’re in love with me. We’re really good together. What is wrong with you? Why are you behaving like this?’ He couldn’t grasp what she was saying. This had come as a bolt out of the blue.

‘It’s the Irish in me,’ she said drily, remembering Amelia’s derisive slur. ‘Look, we had a blast, but I never made any promises to you. I kept my own apartment. I like my independence, you know that. I’m sorry you feel ready to take our relationship a step further and I don’t. But that’s life, chérie.’

‘But why?’ He was utterly bemused.

Marie-Claire smiled. Mission accomplished, she thought, proud of herself. He would never know the answer to that question. With exquisite timing, her phone tinkled. It was the driver of the cab she’d taken the precaution of ordering while she was in the loo.

‘Marc, my taxi has arrived. Please give me the keys to my apartment. I’ll be handing them in.’ She held out her hand.

‘You ordered a taxi! You’re supposed to be coming home with me. We’re going to visit my parents tomorrow. We’re going skiing the day after!’ He was totally flummoxed.

‘Sorry about that, sweetie. Please give your parents my apologies, but I don’t think it would be fair of me to take advantage of their kindness, or yours, now that we’re breaking up—’

‘Breaking up? Marie-Claire, are you on something? Did you—’

‘Marc, the keys – they’re on your key ring. I don’t want to keep the taxi waiting. My resignation letter is on your desk; the holidays I’m owed can be in lieu of notice. I know it’s all a bit sudden, and I apologize for that. But it’s time for me to move on.’

‘Please don’t be hasty. Think about it. Come home with me tonight, Marie-Claire,’ he urged. ‘Let’s—’

‘Sorry, Marc, I don’t want to take advantage of you. I am going home. A clean break is best,’ she said firmly, taking a wad of dollars out of her wallet. ‘Keys, please – and this is my share of the bill.’

He fumbled with his key ring and reluctantly handed her back the silver keys. ‘I don’t know what’s got into you,’ he muttered. ‘Is there someone else?’