When she woke up the next morning Steph found a note from David on the bedside table that he had gone running, plus a cooling cup of tea. She knew she ought to get up and see to the guests, but for once she didn’t have the energy. Instead she put her head back under the duvet and went back to sleep. She was roused not long afterwards by the phone ringing, and she reached out for it groggily.

‘Stephanie!’ The voice that greeted her dripped with reproach. ‘Why didn’t you tell me your friends had opened a château!’

Steph pulled herself up. Only her sister Ronnie was capable of such a finely honed tone of guilt-inducing reproof, especially when she’d just contacted her with this very information.

‘Nicola picked it up on the internet!’ Veronica continued unstoppably. ‘Your friend’s daughter Sophie’s been doing a blog about launching a wedding château. Apparently it’s going to be the most romantic wedding venue in France, and it’s just next door to you. It’s being run by your best friends and you didn’t even tell me!’

Steph sat up and reached for her tea. She was going to need it. ‘Don’t you ever open your emails?’ Steph asked impatiently. ‘I sent you one yesterday telling you all about it.’

‘Oh, well, I’ve been very busy with all this wedding stuff,’ Ronnie replied unapologetically.

‘They haven’t actually opened yet, but in Nicky’s case they’re even prepared to give her a special deal, as long as she’s happy to be their poster girl and appear in all the social media.’

‘Have you met my daughter Nicola? She’d be in seventh heaven. She already spends half her life practising what her sister Lara calls her selfie face. Look, Steph, the thing is . . .’

Steph guessed what was coming next and considered diving back under the duvet.

‘Could we pop over and see what it’s like? I’m sure you could squeeze us in somewhere in your vast mansion. We don’t mind sharing,’ Ronnie offered generously. ‘Though if there were a room each, it would be even better. Nicola’s such a light sleeper.’

‘I’ll look at the bookings when I get up,’ Steph agreed reluctantly. Saying no to Ronnie had always been like trying to scale Everest in stilettos: you might as well give up before you started.

‘You’re not still in bed, are you?’ Ronnie persisted. ‘You’re forever going on about how much hard work it is running a B&B. What’s happening to your guests? It’s after nine, you know.’ If she were running the B&B, her tone implied, she would be far more efficient.

‘Marcelline is looking after them,’ snapped Steph ungraciously. ‘And David will be back from his run by now.’

‘I didn’t know David went running.’