‘That’s what we all really want,’ said Eggy. ‘With ketchup and a nice cup of tea.’

Sally remembered something else about the encounter. ‘The boy called me Theresa.’

‘Neil?’ Theresa peered across at the boy.

‘So often happens with couples.’ As she nudged Theresa’s elbow, Phoo’s speech was slightly slurred. ‘Did you get the house, darling? Well done you! Eggy and I have a Beamer.’

It was all too much for Sally. Everything had become so surreal. It was exactly like one of those actors’ nightmares where you are on stage in the middle of an obscure play by someone like Eugène Ionesco, but you have never even read the play and have no idea of your role, let alone the lines. And you look down to see that you are naked.

Sally grabbed her champagne glass and downed it in one.

When she looked up she saw that everyone was squinting towards the doorway, where some people were hovering, waiting to be seated. It was Odile de la Warr, accompanied by a gaggle of Italian men.

Phoo raised a hand and waved. Odile murmured something to the Italians and they all turned away, and left the bar, heading for somewhere else to drink.

‘I don’t think she saw us,’ said Phoo.

But Sally knew that she had.

What she wasn’t sure of, though, was which one of them Odile de la Warr was avoiding.

As they all came out of the hotel, stepping warily down the white marble steps, Theresa realised that she had got rather more drunk than she had intended. But even this did not soften the pounding of her heart when a passing motorcycle backfired. Instinctively, as she had on that terrible night a few years ago, when they had stood yards away from this spot as the lorry barrelled towards them, she reached out and grabbed Sally’s hand. From the strength of her friend’s grasp, she knew that Sally had experienced the same shock.

They rounded the corner and broke into a run as they had that night, stumbling together along the pavement of Rue Cronstadt.

They ran onwards until they turned the corner leading into Rue du Commandant Berretta. Even though they could hear Phoo behind them, calling loudly, ‘Hey there, you two, wait for us!’ they ran on.

As they came to a halt, both panting, they leaned against the wall, and Sally burst into tears. Theresa put her arms around her friend.

Last time, it had been the other way round. It was she who had broken down in tears once they reached safety, while Sally had remained stoical.

‘I thought we would be over it by now,’ Sally sobbed. ‘It’s such a beautiful place. To have that loveliness tainted by something so horrible . . .’

‘I know,’ said Theresa, holding her tight. ‘We were so lucky. I’m sure the fear will fade one day.’