As if to reinforce her sense of loss and helplessness, darkness was falling fast around her. The birds were twittering in their evening chorus, which tonight struck her as sounding like a dirge – the death knell to her marriage.

She tried to shake herself back into some feeling of normality. Even without David, life had to go on. Thank God that tonight Marcelline and Jean-Christophe would be looking after the guests, even if they were wondering at the same time what on earth had happened between their employers. But, mercy of mercies, Ronnie would be safely back on the other side of the Channel. She was grateful to be spared her sister’s superficial sympathy and barely hidden sense of glee that Steph’s perfect marriage had come unstuck. Maybe she wronged her sister. Maybe she wronged everyone, David included.

Stop, she told herself as she made her way back along the riverbank. Or you’ll go seriously mad.

David had betrayed her trust. The sudden realization dawned that chucking her husband out had not solved her problems. Far from it. The money issues that had so worried him were still there, waiting to devour the business – maybe even take the house.

Steph paused a moment. She was feeling physically sick. She saw how much she had leaned on David and how lightly he had carried the burden of her dependence. Although she had seen herself as the practical one, the everyday organizer, she had simply assumed he would sort out the big stuff. And she had never thanked him for it.

But then, he’d screwed up, and done it without telling her. She speeded her step, trying to hang on to that sense of injustice, as if it were a shield that could ward off the intense, searing pain of knowing he had actually gone.

‘I’ve had an idea,’ Sophie suggested brightly as they sat down to dinner.

She had left it for an hour because it struck her that Meredith was rather distracted, perhaps even angry. If she were going to attempt a bit of agony auntery, she’d guess that Meredith was angry with herself rather than anyone else. Perhaps because she was attracted to Philippe, but wouldn’t admit it to herself for complex Meredith-style reasons to do with patriarchy and always having to win.

‘What’s the idea then?’ Jo asked, since Meredith still seemed rather silent.

‘About the fourth caterer. As you know, I spend ages on Instagram and Pinterest, not to mention all those wedding websites, looking at trends in wedding ideas. You know, dresses, food, flowers, what the bridesmaids are wearing . . . and there’s one word that comes up all the time.’

‘Love?’ prompted Jo with a smile.

‘You must be joking! That’s the last thing your average bride’s thinking about. No. Festivals. They all talk about not wanting a conventional wedding, but more of a festival.’

‘What, like Glastonbury, you mean?’