Meanwhile gently cook the shallot in 50g butter, in a large frying pan, until transparent. Spoon in the white wine and increase the heat until the liquid reduces. Add a pinch of salt, a grind of pepper and the rest of the butter.

In a small frying pan, drop the chestnuts into a knob of melted butter and fry, then pour on the maple syrup, keeping the heat up until the liquid reduces.

On a gentle heat, put the drained vegetables, and chestnuts, into the wine sauce. Toss well and sprinkle with the lemon juice, salt and parsley. Decorate with frilled ‘flowers’ of Tête de Moine.

TEN

Sally quite enjoyed the lunch service, which luckily consisted of many locals coming for the wonderful prix-fixe menu.

Cyril, the butcher, was there, sitting in a corner with his wife, a busty, smiling woman with an earthy laugh, who seemed very concerned on Theresa’s behalf. Cyril kept asking frequently if Sally knew when Theresa would return. Sally wondered whether it was because he was genuinely concerned about Theresa’s missing granddaughter or maybe that he preferred her cooking.

Towards the end of service her own friend Jean-Philippe came in and, as everyone else was already on desserts by then, it was easy to hang around his table and chat with him. He had bought a new boat. A 35-foot sports motor yacht. He wanted her to come out on it whenever she had a day off. She had to explain that until things here in the restaurant were a bit more stable she’d have no time, but after that – try and stop her!

Before signing off for the afternoon Sally went into the kitchen to check on William and Benjamin who seemed very calm and merry as they tidied up after the lunch service.

Sally walked out into the street and sat on a post on the quayside.

The sea was a deeper blue than usual today, and glassy-still. The sun was very warm. Her coat was de trop, so she shook it off and threw her face back to bathe in the sunbeams.

‘Darling!’ Carol’s voice was a positive croon. ‘Well, have I got news for you.’

‘You haven’t found Chloe?’

‘No, darling. I’ve been propositioned.’

Sally opened her eyes and stared at Carol.

‘By whom?’

‘By a charming Englishman, with the most dreamy voice I think I have ever heard. Well, since the death of Richard Burton, anyhow.’

‘I thought you were off men?’

‘I’m only off lying, cheating criminals and husbands who’ve slyly slipped their wedding ring into the inside pocket of their vest.’

‘Vests don’t have pockets. Do they?’

‘Lost in translation, darling. Remember, I’m from Muncie, Indiana.’

‘Where did this pick-up happen? Not at the cash and carry?’

Carol gave one of her deep-throated laughs. ‘No, silly. Here. Right here in this very street.’ She pointed to the hill. ‘Or, rather, that one. Remember you told me to watch out for any activity at Theresa’s apartment? Well, I was watching early this morning, and I saw the backside of some bald man peering in through the front window. I gave chase but he vanished. A little later, when I came back to bring in the fish, I saw him again marching up the hill. So I challenged him. He told me I had a sexy voice and wondered if I might be around over the next few days to join him for an aperitif. So, anyhoo, upshot is I’m on for drinks with him in Nice. He wants me to show him around the Vieille Ville – as they say!’