But this time she was wrong. Five minutes later Nicky returned, all smiles.

‘Mum, it was one of those loos Dad used to call dragons, you know where you expect a monster to come out of this hole in the ground and bite your bum when you’re a kid! I decided maybe I could hang on after all.’

‘Very wise indeed,’ agreed Steph, warming to her niece by the second. ‘Come on, let’s get back to Fleur-de-Lis and have some lunch. It’ll be mercifully empty of guests now!’

‘How delicious. Isn’t it rather weird having guests around all the time?’ asked Nicky as they got into the car. ‘Like a house party, only no one leaves on Sunday when they should do? That drives me mad.’

Steph found herself laughing. It was so true.

‘You know the worst thing,’ she confided. ‘Apart from having to work twenty-four hours a day? You can never swim in your own pool!’

She realized she’d never told anyone that before. How funny.

‘I thought you loved it,’ accused Ronnie. ‘You always tell me you do.’

‘I do, most of the time. I promise. Anyway, it’s like anything – a compromise. I want to live in the most beautiful part of France and I can’t afford to unless I work. Besides, I thought working alongside my husband would be good for our marriage.’

Why the hell had she blurted that out? How bloody stupid.

‘I mean, so many couples lead completely parallel lives,’ she barrelled on.

‘Mmm. Actually, Martin and I do that already,’ mused Nicky. ‘I do see your point.’

Martin. How interesting, Steph thought to herself. She’d hardly heard him even mentioned before. The lot of bridegrooms, perhaps.

‘So when can we see the château?’

‘Tomorrow at eleven,’ Steph smiled. ‘Meredith, Jo and Sophie will all be waiting for you.’

‘I’m so excited!’ beamed back Nicky. ‘I know I’m going to love it!’

‘Slow down, darling,’ Ronnie counselled. ‘It might be unsuitable. Or too expensive,’ she added meaningfully.

Steph took them back to Fleur-de-Lis and showed them their rooms. Nicky loved hers but Ronnie, true to form, gave hers a cursory glance and threw her dirty-looking suitcase onto the pristine white cotton bedcover without making any comment. Biting back her irritation, Steph left them for a moment to prepare the lunch.

‘How was it?’ David asked her. He was chopping tomatoes and thin slivers of onion for a salad.

‘Is that for us?’ Steph enquired, touched that he was being so thoughtful.

‘I thought you might need back-up,’ he added with an engaging smile. ‘And maybe a calming glass of Bergerac?’

‘That sounds like heaven,’ Steph laughed. ‘Thanks for being so understanding. Actually, I think she’s trying to behave. She’s following my dad’s advice: if you haven’t got anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all!’