She’d been right about the women, but none of them had appealed to him for long. None of them had shared his love of the land or had a trace of his wife’s quirky sense of humour. Seeing Jo had given him an almost electrical shock because there was such a strong physical resemblance between them. And for a moment, when the dog had appeared with that ridiculous rabbit vibrator in its mouth, he had half expected her to roar with laughter as Anne-Marie would have done. Instead she’d looked mortified. He understood that, of course. Maybe even Annie would have been a shade embarrassed at something so personal, though he doubted it. Brits were hard to read and he had seen flashes of humour from Jo since. But then he’d heard about the château and realized she would, in a manner of speaking, be his boss. A fierce streak of ridiculous pride in him had made him baulk at that. What if it went further, then fell apart between them? He’d have to leave. ‘Don’t shit on your own doorstep’ had always been his father’s pithy advice. He suspected that in this, for once, Dad was right.

He caught sight of a few of the Blonde d’Aquitaine cattle he had introduced and smiled. Not only did they look picturesque in the landscape but, his practical Kiwi outlook reminded him, their dung was essential for the organic fertilizer he had persuaded Margot as his employer to use here, instead of the destructive chemicals used by other growers.

Employer – how he hated that word.

He shook himself, rather like Nelly would when she was wet. Being realistic was another quality Kiwis were supposed to possess. Hah.

Watching discreetly from her bedroom window, Jo smiled and wondered what was going through his mind, especially when his smile suddenly vanished. She had been studying him for the last five minutes while she should have been helping sort licences for the fire extinguishers. Maybe he was thinking about his wife.

She heard her daughter’s footsteps coming upstairs, and turned away from the window abruptly.

Jackie scanned the members of the Bratenac Ladies’ Luncheon Club suspiciously.

‘Where’s Suzi?’ she demanded, looking keenly round.

‘Not coming,’ offered Mandy meekly, sounding as apologetic as if it were she who’d gone AWOL. ‘I did pop round and knock on her door but she said she wasn’t feeling up to it. Some kind of bug going round, apparently.’

‘Yes,’ Jackie snapped back. ‘It’s called guilt. Suzi is definitely up to something. She’s been avoiding me as if I had the clap. And we all know why, don’t we? She’s got herself involved with David Adams from Fleur-de-Lis.’

‘Oh, surely not, Jackie?’ protested Shirley, the happy housewife. ‘I really don’t think she would!’

‘Guillaume saw them. And why else would she be avoiding me?’