She hoped that she would find tonight easier. Once she felt she was in control of her own kitchen, and her own work, rather than finishing off someone else’s, and feeling uncomfortable in their space, it had to be easier.

Didn’t it?

As Sally moved across the kitchen to return the cheeses to the appropriate shelf, her foot went sliding and she found herself hurtling towards the door, then the floor. Without thinking, she grabbed on to the hot cooker-top to steady herself. She landed on the tiles on all fours, one hand burnt.

‘Damnation.’ She looked down to find that the cause of the slip was the remnants of a red rose which had fallen with the glass. Where had that been hiding? She threw the wretched thing into the bin, and held her palm under the cold tap for a few moments to ameliorate the pain.

The timer pinged, alerting her to another batch of pies due to come out of the oven. She pulled an oven glove over her sore hand and grasped the hot baking tray, only to find once more that, due to the awaiting cheese plates and the restaurant’s books, which Marcel had thoughtlessly laid on the other counter, there was nowhere to put it down. Balancing the tray on the edge of the sink, with her other hand Sally chucked the books down into the cubbyhole under the counter.

All would be well. She would master this kitchen.

This afternoon was a one-off.

It had to be.

Theresa spent hours going through security. Luckily she had her passport, which she tended to keep in her handbag in case she ever fancied going across to Italy, as nowadays there were random checks on the trains. Plus, of course, if you ever wanted to enter the casino at Monte Carlo, it was necessary to take a passport.

As her little win there had been the final deciding factor on her move to Bellevue-sur-Mer, the Garnier Casino had become rather a totem in her life.

But as she had not planned on leaving the country this morning, she only had her handbag with her, which should have made things easier. It did not. For naturally it was full of things which are forbidden in carry-on luggage.

As the security official dumped Theresa’s bottle of very expensive perfume into the bin, he gave her a bright smile. Her favourite penknife, a pair of nail scissors and a box of matches, which she always kept with her in case the cooker burners failed to ignite, followed the perfume. She was then taken aside and interrogated for some time regarding why she would be travelling today without anything but a handbag, especially as she had no return flight booked. What was she running from?

She was eventually let through and on to the flight, where her thoughts were concentrated on the trouble which waited ahead in London.

She ran through many ideas of how to continue the search for Chloe. It seemed clear to her, from what she knew of both Imogen and Chloe herself, that the most likely scenario was a secret boyfriend.