As Theresa cooked that night, sending out dishes to the dining room, borne by William and Benjamin, Carol assisted as best she could.

‘We’re overloaded out there,’ she drawled. ‘Better to help you out.’

‘No deliveries to do tonight?’ Theresa tackled a large steak, lifting it from the frying pan and laying it alongside the vegetables. It splashed juices over the edge, and she had to apply kitchen paper to the sides of the plate.

‘If something local comes in I’ll take it. But I’m not going off into the hinterland and getting stranded again. No siree.’

Theresa felt glad that she had Carol to talk to. The stress of the last few days was like a snowball; the more you worried the bigger the worry became. Time for a new subject.

‘No word from Sally, I suppose.’

‘Oh yes!’ Carol prepared a mixed side salad in a small bowl. ‘Milady Connor-Doyle has returned to the stage. Or should I say the movies.’

‘She’s gone back to acting? You’re joking?’

‘Absolutely not. She’s on location, filming in Monte Carlo. And, from her tone, unrepentant. She left a message on William’s machine. He went into a jig of anger which might or might not be interpreted as a war dance.’

‘Well, at least someone’s happy.’ Theresa couldn’t believe this. ‘Talk about rats leaving a sinking ship.’

‘Just leave the mugs to sort out the mess.’ Carol drizzled vinaigrette over the salad.

‘Is that Sally’s game, d’you think? Swanning off to cavort around with film stars in Monaco while her friends have their noses to the grindstone trying to save their own and her arses?’

Theresa picked up an egg from the stand and it slipped from her fingers, smashing on the tiled floor.

‘Damn!’ She reached for a cloth to mop it up. The last thing they all needed was for someone, maybe herself, to fall and break a leg.

‘You seem quite preoccupied this evening, darling?’ Carol drained the new potatoes and laid a few on top of the gravy, which Theresa had ladled over the meat. ‘I presume there’s no word from the kid?’

‘She texted me to meet in Nice, then she didn’t show. I just don’t know why she would text me then not come. I’m frightened something has happened to her.’

‘She’s a teenager, Theresa. They have social rules all to themselves. Maybe something better turned up. Perhaps she didn’t feel that she could excuse herself from the boy’s family.’

‘Then why not text me to say she wasn’t coming?’

‘Don’t you remember being young?’ Carol laughed. ‘In my humble opinion it’s an intensely selfish period of life.’ She picked up the plate and whisked it into the dining room, calling over her shoulder, ‘You’ll hear from the child in her own good time.’