They stood up slowly. ‘Careful not to let your shadow fall on the water!’ Philippe whispered. ‘The fish senses it.’

They stood silent as statues, eyes fixed on the water. There was definitely something large there. A sudden tug on the line told them that it had taken the bait.

‘Wait –’ Philippe’s voice was suddenly urgent – ‘sometimes they get the bait without the hook. Wait till we see him before you try reeling him in.’

In the intensity neither of them had noticed a slim figure, swathed in expensive-looking scarves and elegant Hunter boots, approaching along the riverbank with a large and slobbery black-and-white dog.

‘You’re up with the alouette,’ remarked a vaguely familiar voice behind them, just as the dog began to bark hysterically and run along the side of the river, almost throwing itself in, so eager was it to pursue whatever was moving in the water.

With a flash of its powerful tail, the fish dived deep into the depths of the river, releasing itself in its fury from the hook buried in the bait, and disappeared.

‘It’s gone!’ Jean-Christophe stated in anguished tones.

‘Indeed it has,’ agreed Philippe, through gritted teeth.

Meredith witnessed the split second when he almost lost his temper. She saw him struggle against shouting at her for not having the good sense to restrain her animal and force himself to exert some existentialist calm. It was clear that she had not only interrupted an important moment of father–son bonding, but also scared away the fucking fish.

‘Good morning, Mademoiselle Meredith, you too are up very early,’ Philippe greeted her ruefully. ‘You almost witnessed my son here make his first catch.’

‘Philippe, Jean-Christophe . . .’ Meredith replied, looking pained. ‘How can I apologize for Nelly’s disgraceful behaviour? Not to mention that of her owner? Was it a big fish?’

They both shrugged in an inimitably Gallic manner, playing down the importance of their loss while still managing to convey that, yes, it had been a very big fish.

Nelly approached and lay down between them with paws and ears flattened, the very portrait of abject abasement, until both burst out laughing and Jean-Christophe, clearly a secret dog lover, dropped to his knees and stroked her wrinkled fur. Nelly instantly rewarded him with one of her disarming smiles.

‘I love this dog!’ Philippe watched his son making lifelong friends with the disgraceful bulldog. Maybe he’d longed for a dog as well as a mother.

‘I am genuinely very sorry.’ Meredith knew better than to say that it was only a fish.

‘It would probably have swum off anyway,’ Philippe smiled. ‘Do you walk her here every morning?’

‘So that you can fish somewhere else?’ Meredith replied.

‘I was just thinking that it must be very pleasant.’