Chloe’s response to the suggestion that Roger Muffett lived in a large house somewhere down here certainly indicated that maybe he didn’t. In fact if he did, surely the water would be connected and there would be bathrooms galore? Unless maybe it was one of those collapsed old farmhouses in the middle of being renovated? Perhaps Theresa’s other imagined possibility was correct – that Roger Muffett was living in a hotel and commuting around the area, property-hunting. But, seriously, these days didn’t all hotels have bathrooms?

Surely they wouldn’t be camping? Or even glamping, as people nowadays did. Glamping – glamorous camping! There was an oxymoron if ever she heard one. And, anyway, even if the Muffetts were on the downmarket side of camping, in France campsites were all very well equipped with showers and even jacuzzis and saunas.

It was a mystery.

Theresa wondered whether, when Chloe finally left here to go back to Neil and his dad, she shouldn’t put on a mac and a pair of sunglasses and follow her, try to find out exactly where she was staying.

She had a last-minute idea to lay out the unsolicited knife and the CD she had received on the tabletop to watch if Chloe reacted to them. She ran round to get one from her bag and the other from the shelves.

The water stopped. Theresa once more went to the sink to fiddle with the kettle. She smirked at how tired this bit of business was, but it was the only thing she could think of doing which would enable her to turn away and seem insouciant.

Chloe, dressed and smiling, came in and perched on one of the bar stools.

‘What a lovely spread!’ She greedily pounced on the pancakes, drenching them with honey and scattering strawberries on top.

Theresa watched, fascinated. The girl seemed pretty hungry.

‘When you go, would you like to take a sandwich or a slice of cake or anything?’

Still chewing, Chloe nodded, and Theresa set to work cutting and wrapping pieces of food.

Then she wondered if giving Chloe food wasn’t a mistake. Wasn’t she enabling her to stay away? But Theresa couldn’t help herself. Food was her business. ‘Shall I put it in your bag?’ she asked.

Chloe snatched up her bag and held it open. There was another clue. She obviously didn’t want Grandma digging around in there. Theresa was amazed at how easy it was to pick up signs from such little things.

She just wished she could make sense of them.

‘How will you get back, Chloe? Will Neil’s dad pick you up?’

Chloe laughed. ‘Absolutely not!’

‘Will you take the train? They’re very cheap down here.’

‘I know, Grandma. And the buses are even cheaper.’

‘You can go as far as Menton or Cannes for €1.50, you know. Do you have to go far?’

‘I’m not sure.’