But they couldn’t possibly admit that.

And then, stupidly, still intimidated, at the after-show drinks, out of mere habit, Sally had felt obliged to apologise over and over.

As she sped along the autoroute she could feel her face getting hot with fury and embarrassment. Why on earth should things which happened so long ago still cause her to feel so low?

Anyway, so what? She’d bumped into them today, and now, with any luck, that sharp dose of the Markhams was over and done with, forever.

Sally was almost home before she realised she had not actually bought any fish and now had nothing to contribute to tonight’s dinner.

She hastily turned back towards Nice and drove to the large hypermarket to buy some fish there.

After getting the fish, she wandered up to the back of the vast shop and put two luscious-looking gateaux into her shopping basket. Eggy might go for English stuff, but for Sally nothing bettered French patisserie for comfort food. Quite unnecessary, really, but a huge chocolate cake was just what she needed as an antidote to her chance meeting with the monstrous Markhams.

THREE

Even to Theresa, who was used to lawyers’ meetings, the evening’s discussion felt as though it went on for ever. As they discussed all the possibilities left to the owning partners with regard to La Mosaïque, she found herself engaged one moment and the next gazing out of the window at the sea: deep blue, sparkling and tempting. She felt utterly trapped.

She and William had sat in her flat and thrashed everything out all day, with paper, pencils and a calculator. Even as they ate their sandwich lunch, they were noting down figures and drawing up columns of numbers. All day they had dealt only in facts – bank balances, debts, income, tax, licences, gross expenses, net profits.

It was a horrible day. And once all the team were gathered at Sally’s home, suddenly mathematical reality went up in smoke and emotions took over, for Theresa as much as for the others. Carol and Benjamin were still dreaming of a revival, full of hope and future success. Zoe nodded off, then woke up and demanded answers to questions which they had dealt with in minute detail while she was asleep; while Sally seemed to be mentally absent. Theresa had simply hoped that someone might have been able to come up with a magic answer. But that was folly. And this was reality.

So far, the ideas presented had all been idealistic, pie in the sky, mostly depending on a great imagined upsurge of custom, despite the fact that it was already early March, the height of the slow season, with the post-Christmas tightening of the belts in the run-up to Easter.

For what felt like the twentieth time, William laid out the options: ‘One: we sell up the premises and the business as one and move on. Two: we struggle on, hoping for a reprieve. Three: we cut our costs, dramatically. We work without pay and employ no covers until we are out of the red. Four: we reduce the quality and style of our menu, replacing top-end products with cheap and quick convenience food.’