‘Tomorrow the restaurant is shut, as usual, and I propose we use our day off to get the accounts straight. I will do this myself, with your help, Theresa, if I may.’

Theresa paced about the room. ‘Well, I don’t know much about money, but I did used to work for a solicitor, so I vaguely know my way around the law, albeit the law of Great Britain.’

The way things were going she feared she would be back working in a London solicitor’s office all too soon.

‘Once we know exactly where we stand financially, then we can choose whether to sell up or struggle on.’

‘When will we get your verdict, William?’ asked Carol. ‘In here, tomorrow evening?’

Sally piped up. ‘No. That’s too sad. Let’s meet at mine. For once I’ll cook. I’m no Theresa, but it’ll be like the old days.’

Everyone agreed that that would be a good idea. Sally would prepare the main dish, Carol would bring starter and dessert and Benjamin would get the wine.

‘Honestly, William, what are our chances of survival?’ asked Theresa, her stomach filled with the dull ache of fear. ‘Now that we won’t be getting this money which we’d all been depending on.’ Her head was so full of the grim thought of being forced to sell up and move back to dreary old Highgate that she barely listened to his reply.

William shrugged. ‘Let’s say we’re going to have to be very creative. I suspect our best chance of staying out of jail is by selling up our interest in the restaurant and going our own different ways. And if necessary taking the first steps towards declaring insolvency.’

Theresa slumped into the nearest chair.

TWO

In the cold morning light, Theresa wrapped her turquoise mac tight and resolved, even though it was drizzling, to walk along the shore before going up to William’s house to start the accounting.

This mac would always remind her of her first days here in Bellevue-sur-Mer, meeting Carol and the others, the beginning of what she realised had been the happiest years of her life.

She did not want it all to stop now. She would hate to find herself aimless, penniless and forced to return to London, where she knew she wouldn’t have a chance of surviving, either mentally or financially.

If La Mosaïque were to fail, and close down, which certainly seemed the most likely way forward, she would have to find another means of getting by. And by getting by Theresa realised it wasn’t simply a financial concern. She wanted to have a decent reason to get up each morning. She needed something to look forward to, something to love.

She stepped carefully down the stone ramp to the small pebbly shore. With a loud cry a seagull swooped and dived into the water, chasing a fish.

Theresa picked up a smooth, flat stone and, like a child, skimmed it across the dark blue surface of the water.

It was important, she realised, to try and keep positive. Once you let yourself slide down that black hole of depression, who knew where you might end up? She had to stay positive. And here, in this lovely little town, there was plenty to keep positive about. Around three hundred days of the year without rain. No freezing-cold winters. A beautiful turquoise sea to gaze at, calming and enlivening at the same time. A gang of really great friends. And last, but certainly not least, wonderful food. Theresa understood how important that was to her. Certainly, here on the Côte d’Azur, even the cafés and market stalls served wonderful things – from socca and panisse to pissaladière and pizza; hand-held snacks, but all quite delicious.