‘That’s what I think.’ On the other end of the line, Theresa paused – presumably to look. ‘Yes. That must be it. But who?’

‘A secret admirer. So what are the noises?’

‘All quiet now. But half an hour ago, some couple was making a hell of a racket. It sounded as though they were killing one another.’

‘I gather they’re tourists,’ said Sally. ‘Maybe they’re on honeymoon, or a dirty weekend. Carol met the bloke, and he was warbling on about acoustics. Obviously worried that you’d be able to overhear their romantic dalliance.’

‘Oh yes. Once they get out of England people do go rather sex-mad, don’t they? Kinky stuff, I expect. Anyhow, it’s good to catch up, though I’m not sure if I’ll see you tomorrow or not. Until we find Chloe, I’m going to be rather distracted . . .’

‘It’s all right, Theresa. I understand.’

‘How’s it going your end?’

Sally knew that she couldn’t burden Theresa with her woes, so she replied, ‘Oh, I’m fine. But if you’re worried about the flat, Theresa, I’d put the chain on.’

‘Don’t worry, Sally. It’s already on. And I’ve got chairs balanced up against both doors. And tomorrow I’m getting the locks changed.’

After hanging up, Sally turned out the light and lay in the dark. Once more there were too many thoughts flitting through her mind to be able to settle down to sleep. She gazed out at the black horizon. A shaft of moonlight drew a neat, white, sparkling strip down the centre. In the distance she could see a brightly illuminated cruise ship sailing silently into port.

She hoped Chloe was safe. She remembered the worries her own two kids had put her through and dreaded that all starting again with a new generation.

With a groan, she faced the wall.

She had been such good friends with William and the others. But the vagaries of fortune at La Mosaïque had put paid to all that goodwill.

Sally wished again that she had never got involved in this stupid restaurant business. Thanks to it, she was sinking further and further into debt, both financially and socially.

Bloody William.

She wished he’d get off his high horse. True, she had not handled the last service very well, but surely everyone was entitled to an off-day? True, the restaurant was failing, but it wasn’t all her fault. Why blame everything on her? After all, William himself was no angel.

In fact now she wished that she had reminded him of his own failed night as a waiter.

Next time he started accusing her she was determined to fight back.

The phone rang again.

Sally turned over and grabbed the receiver.

‘NOW WHAT!’ Silence. ‘Hello? Hello?’

All she needed – a wrong number.

‘Hello?’

No doubt someone wanting a taxi to Monaco or some equally annoying misdial.