‘The other thing we need to sort out,’ asserted Sophie, ‘is staff for here, since Margot is kindly taking hers with her. Though what they’re going to find to do in a Lego house, heaven knows. We’ll need at least one cleaner, preferably two, and some help with bedrooms, plus an everyday cook wouldn’t go amiss.’ She grinned at her mother who had produced the carbonnade. ‘Then you’ll have more time to relax.’ She almost added, ‘and wander round the vineyard’ but sensibly thought better of it. Perhaps they’d gone with Héloise, who had announced grandly that she intended to retire to Cannes and sunbathe.

Suzi sat at the rather ridiculous, if pretty, table she used as a desk, with its pink marble top and feet like lion’s claws. It hadn’t really mattered that it was impractical when she’d bought it, because she’d never really used it for anything functional. But now, as she tried to fit a large glass of wine, her diary and the new A4 notebook she’d just bought and carefully inscribed with the words SUZI’S NEXT STEP on the table at the same time, she almost gave up. It might be all right for Madame de Sevigne writing down her pensées for posterity, but she probably passed on the vino.

Suzi took a large sip. The list she’d started was pretty brief:

Help Guillaume behind bar at cafe

Estate agent? [except I don’t speak French]

Start yoga group [except I’ve only done basic yoga and can’t tell my Hatha from my Ashtanga]

Interior designer

There was a loud knock on the door, almost making her spill her wine. Who on earth could it be at this time of night? Probably Jackie, back to spy and patronize.

She pulled her dressing gown a little tighter so that it revealed less of her slightly saggy bosom. It was a silk kimono covered in blossom and exotic birdlife in a rather startling bright pink, which she’d bought in Bratenac market and decided would be suitable for entertaining gentlemen callers. She’d loved it at once because it had reminded her of a similar, though rather classier, version she’d worn with jeans when she was eighteen and determined to cut a dash back home in Basildon. Unfortunately, there hadn’t been a lot of gentleman callers lately, but she wasn’t going to dwell on that. She was going to find a job.

She opened the door and almost had a heart attack. David was standing on her doorstep, looking pale and stressed and carrying a suitcase.

He found his mouth full of her hair as she smothered him with kisses, just as he was attempting to explain that he wasn’t moving in – that his stay was only temporary, because both of the local hotels were full for a conference.

Sixteen