‘And what can I get you?’

‘Un café crème, et une brioche, s’il vous plaît, Marcel.’

Marcel lingered a little before moving off. Theresa wondered whether he was thinking of saying something else. Perhaps he wanted to try and sway her to make the others accept his pitiful offer for the restaurant. But after a moment he turned away, went into the kitchen and came back with her breakfast.

‘What’s that?’ Neil pointed at her sugar-speckled bread.

‘A brioche. Would you like to taste?’ She pulled off a lump and put it on to Neil’s plate.

‘I suppose you must be thinking of getting back on the boat again now, Roger, and heading off into the great unknown? What an adventure it must be!’

‘Really?’ Roger sighed and topped up his coffee from the pot on the table. ‘Must I?’

‘It’s dull today, I know. But don’t let a spot of rain get you down. Usually the weather here is lovely. In the winter it’s hot at midday and freezing at night. But at least most days we do get the sun. I think it would be gorgeous to go drifting out on to the Med. Even on a cloudy day.’

‘Hmm. Good for you,’ growled Roger. ‘You’re welcome to it.’

‘My friend Sally drives a boat.’ Theresa spread her brioche with apricot jam, then took a sip of the lovely strong coffee. ‘I’m afraid I only go as far as driving a car.’

‘I couldn’t be more bored with the boat. Once upon a time it all seemed like such a good idea. But a life like this isn’t at all as it looks in the adverts.’

‘Nothing ever is.’

‘Excuse me.’ Roger laid down his napkin and rose, looking for the lavatories. ‘Neil, please could you entertain Mrs Simmonds while I visit the little boys’ room.’

Roger weaved through the tables to a door near the back of the café. Neil leaned in to Theresa. ‘Poor Dad. He had all these horrible girlfriends, but they didn’t like it on the boat either. They all went home. I got the idea that they thought because Dad lived on a yacht that he was a millionaire. They didn’t understand that we live on a boat just because he doesn’t have anywhere else to go.’

‘How do you feel about it all?’

‘I’d like to live in a house again.’

‘In France or England?’

‘You know, I really miss my mum. And, honestly, I miss my old home too. I even miss school.’

Theresa handed Neil another piece of brioche. Poor boy. In fact, Roger had looked so beaten she felt sorry for the pair of them. What a mess.

Marcel was back. ‘I hear you took your coffee in the market in Nice a couple of days ago,’ he said. ‘Were you trying to avoid me? You usually come here.’