Sophie went off to work on one of the amazing lists she was devising of exactly how a wedding package should work, from the bride-to-be’s arrival with her mother and bridesmaids, with every last thing that ought to happen listed next to the name of who ought to be responsible for making it happen. So far, it came to about ten A4 pages. And growing. But with less than three months to go, they’d certainly need it.

The modern wedding, it struck Jo, with all its Pinterest and Instagram and Snapchat and its drone aerial photography, was more like a Hollywood production with one of those funny cast lists featuring gaffers and best boys (whatever they were) than anything she really recognized. It would be heresy, of course, since they were in the weddings business, to wonder if it had all been better before, when a wedding took place in a village church with a marquee in someone’s garden.

But then, as any modern bride would tell you, back then the whole day belonged to the parents. Weddings might be expensive and elaborate now, but they were exactly what the couple wanted. And with a little help from the château, Jo reminded herself, the whole thing could be magical.

It was early afternoon by the time Meredith pulled her hire car into Fleur-de-Lis’ small parking area. She was going to have to get one now that she was staying. The whirlwind of buying the chateau had pushed all those dull details of everyday living – cooking, cleaning, transport – out of her head. Fortunately, down-to-earth Sophie was talking to a staff agency who had promised to supply them. Meredith looked round. There was only one other car in the car park, which was a relief. Steph’s guests must be out sightseeing.

She walked in by the garden entrance and found her friend deadheading roses. ‘Hello. I didn’t know you were into gardening.’

‘I’m not,’ replied Steph, who had washed her hair and applied more make-up than usual, like protective armour in battle. ‘Deadheading’s different. I love it. By taking off the bloom that’s died you ensure the appearance of another, and that makes it extra satisfying. Plus the rose bush looks better, too.’ She glanced at Meredith. ‘You know about David, don’t you? I’m surprised it’s got round that quickly. Does somebody’s son or daughter work at the hotel?’

Meredith stared. Oh God, she obviously didn’t know where he’d gone. Shit.

‘What’s the matter? Meredith?’ Steph stared at her. ‘Meads honour. You’re bound to tell me. What don’t I know?’

‘He seems to have gone to stay with someone, rather than book in to the hotel.’