‘Back to Ronnie,’ Steph said firmly. ‘Knowing my sister, she may cancel if she thinks it’s going to cost her a bomb. She’ll insist Nicky forgets the silly vows in the romantic setting and goes for the registry office with a reception in the local pub. You have to persuade her she’s getting an incredible bargain. Ronnie even tries to haggle in Poundland. Now you know what they want, cost it all out and then present it with a generous reduction for their co-operation in being a trial wedding and having their photos used for your PR. Once she’s come down off the ceiling I’ll phone Nicky’s dad and explain it all to him. He’s quite a reasonable type, despite the picture Ronnie likes to draw of him as a penny-pinching philanderer. Actually, he’s rather a sweetie and more of a one-woman man. Unfortunately, since Ronnie chucked him out, that one woman is his faithful assistant. He’ll see sense and I don’t think the new wife will try and stop him coughing up. She’s like him – nice, but dull.’

‘Everything’s hunky-dory, then,’ Meredith announced.

‘Let’s hope so. And see you tomorrow for the wine tasting. I very much doubt you’ll get Ronnie to spit hers out. Waste of a good perfectly good wine, in her view.’

‘Fine.’ Meredith paused fractionally, then added: ‘Make sure David comes too.’

Steph looked at her curiously. Was this another shot in the Be Nicer to Your Husband campaign? ‘You can tell him yourself. He’ll be back with your cappuccino in a moment. In fact, what the hell’s happened to him?’

‘Can you just thank him and make my excuses?’ Meredith said. ‘I really need to get back to the château.’

‘Fine,’ Steph shrugged. ‘I’ll drink it myself.’ She watched Meredith hurry down the terrace steps with her long, slightly masculine strides. There was something odd going on between her and David that Steph couldn’t fathom. It was almost as if Meredith wanted to tell her something but kept deciding not to.

And then it suddenly struck Steph, like the clouds parting to let through a shaft of sunlight: David had been up to something, and Meredith knew what it was.

Fourteen

Liam had chosen a range of three white wines, two reds and a rosé for Ronnie and Nicky to sample for the wedding. He’d laid them out on a long table on the terrace, under a plane tree. It was a delightful spot, carefully chosen with a view down through the vineyard to the river, where the sun had just set, leaving a dusky glow all over the landscape.