‘But Cyril did.’ Theresa felt so sorry for her mistaken belief that it had been Cyril who was up to no good when he was only coming down to warn her. ‘And so did my granddaughters – always poking about where they shouldn’t be.’

‘But anyway,’ Zoe chipped in. ‘Poor you. Having that squelchy oyster mouth of Marcel’s land on you must have been quite a revolting experience.’

Theresa had another worry niggling at her.

‘Roger?’

‘Over and out,’ replied Zoe.

‘He’s not . . . ?’

‘Dead? Oh no. Sorry! Joke!’ said Zoe. ‘That wife of his dived in, fully clothed in her twinset and pearls, like a Home Counties Esther Williams, crawled out there, like Weissmuller, and pulled him to the shore. Gave him the kiss of life and everything. It couldn’t have been more like a movie.’

Carol swept in from the kitchen, bearing a tray with teas, coffees and a basket of Viennoiserie.

‘So anyway! Today’s the day . . .’

‘The day?’ Theresa wondered if she hadn’t forgotten something. ‘The day for what?’

‘When we open the offers.’ William spoke to Theresa as though to a child.

‘I hope we’re not accepting any offers from Marcel.’ Theresa recoiled at the very thought of the man.

‘God, no! Over my dead body,’ said Zoe, crossing herself, and whispering a prayer towards the ceiling.

‘Where’s Sally? Shouldn’t Sally be here?’

‘I am here.’ Sally slammed in through the front door, pulling off her coat and grabbing a seat at the table with the others. She looked at her watch. ‘I’m not late, am I?’

‘Just totally absent for a bloody week,’ murmured Zoe into her polo neck.

‘Oh, and, Carol, I’ve a bone to pick with you.’ Sally gave Carol the evil eye. ‘But later!’

‘Come along, everyone. The candidates should be here shortly.’ William took an official tone to start the meeting. ‘But we have two sealed offers before us. As you know, there was a reserve price set, so no more joke offers like Marcel’s.’

‘Good,’ replied Theresa. ‘No more anything from Marcel, thank you.’

‘So let’s open them.’ Benjamin folded his arms, ready for battle.

‘Who wants the honour?’ William held up two coloured envelopes.

‘It should be Sally and Theresa.’

‘The two women who deserted their posts,’ muttered Zoe.

‘I agree.’ Carol’s low voice drowned out Zoe’s remark. ‘They’ve both been through the mill, so . . .’

‘And opening an envelope is going to make it all better?’

Carol shot Zoe such a look that she was silenced.

William handed the pink envelope to Theresa and the blue one to Sally.

They both tore them open, pulled out the pieces of paper and held them up, displaying numbers, in euros.

Both numbers were well within the price range which would bail them out, and one even gave them all a little profit.

William glanced from pink to blue and back.

‘The pink wins.’