Sally dumped the soiled tissues in the waste bag and, waving goodbye to the girls, ran down the steps.

‘Large silver vehicle.’ The Third pointed across the car park. ‘Hope you don’t mind, but you’re sharing a ride tonight with Mr Markham. The driver will drop you off first.’

Sally nodded and grinned, as her soul sank.

What would they talk about during the thirty-minute drive?

When Sally slid into the car Eggy was already waiting in the back seat. The car purred into action, swinging out past the car-park barrier and into the main road leading out of town.

While they drove through a street of high-rises, they remained together in a sticky silence. As the car moved on to the coastal road, Eggy spoke. ‘Ravishing views round here.’ He gazed out of the window at the black sea. ‘It’s a pity it’s so dark. This morning I was intoxicated by the sight of that immense sparkling turquoise. Do you find it calming, too?’

Sally realised that she had lived down here so long now she took the beauty of the azure sea for granted. Perhaps she should gaze upon it anew, and let the sight soothe her nerves.

‘It is calming. I’m very lucky. It’s a lovely place to live.’

‘Yes.’ Eggy let out a little snort. ‘You are blessed.’ His phone rang out a jaunty melody. He glanced at the screen. ‘Excuse me, Sally. I have to take this.’

What luck! For the moment, at least, Sally was off the hook in the realm of small talk.

‘Today went very well indeed. No. No. Quite difficult . . . Yes. We’re together in the car now driving us to our respective homes.’

Difficult to talk, Sally realised he was saying, mentally filling in the detail of the voice on the other end of the line. She could hear that it was a female. Probably Phoo.

She looked out of her window, watching the occasional garages, shops and bars along the way. People were seated out on terraces, heaters burning overhead, knocking back their evening glass of red. How Sally looked forward to quaffing her own. She remembered that someone had once accused Mary Tyler Moore of being an alcoholic simply because, on coming home from work, she drank one Martini every day. Well, if those were the regulations these days, Sally must be an alcoholic too. She was yearning for a drink.

The car passed into one of the tunnels leading through Èze. Instinctively Eggy started speaking louder.

‘Of course I’m excited, my dear. But you’re the one who got me stuck out here. I’d much prefer to be back in London, holding your pretty hand, helping you get by.’