Meredith, usually the first to face any difficult situation, walked across the terrace of Fleur-de-Lis, bathed in sunshine and overhung with fragrant blossoms which today she didn’t even notice, past the table where they had sat and drunk wine and talked about David’s departure, towards the arched opening with its iron gate that led to the swimming pool.

She stopped there for a fraction of a second, terrified of what she might find. After a moment’s thought Philippe slipped an arm around her, in a gesture that was clearly meant simply to be supportive. ‘Shall we go through?’ he asked gently. ‘In fact, would you rather I went ahead and had a look round?’ It was equally clear that he understood the nature of her fear.

‘No, thanks,’ Meredith replied. ‘Just come with me.’ She pushed open the gate.

Steph’s towel was still spread out on the wooden sunbed, now damp with dew. Meredith forced herself to stare into the pool, scanning the entire length, then let out a deep sigh of relief. ‘She isn’t there!’

‘No.’ His arms closed round her for a moment, holding her in a close embrace that was more friend than lover, for which she was deeply grateful. He glanced around, his eyes fixing on the pool house at the far end.

‘Allez . . . we should take a look in there.’

The pool house was new and made of wood, a large cabana, still smelling of pine and wood preservative. It was empty, but at the far end a kind of baffle had been erected to separate an area where the sunbed cushions were stored. Philippe strode over. ‘Come!’ he commanded gently. ‘Take a look.’

Meredith’s shoulders drooped in gratitude at the smile in his voice. She ran across to join him.

Steph lay on a pile of dark blue cushions, sleeping like a baby, beneath a covering of smart towelling robes also in dark blue, piped with white, that seemed brand new. ‘She looks like a babe in the wood,’ whispered Meredith.

‘Or an advert for Galeries Lafayette,’ grinned Philippe and squeezed her hand before he removed his arm and took a step back.

Meredith, still watching her friend, was conscious of an unfamiliar sensation – not the loss of protection, she’d never needed that, but of solidarity perhaps, a moment of something shared. She kneeled down next to the sleeping figure.

‘Steph,’ she said softly, ‘time to wake up.’

Steph’s eyes flew open, filling with a sudden sense of reality. ‘Is it all true?’ she asked.

Meredith stroked her hair back from her face, which was drenched with sweat. ‘It’s true, but you’ve got us. You’re not alone. We’re just down the road. Besides,’ Meredith smiled at her tenderly, ‘now that I’ve bought a château next door you can’t abandon me and bugger off back to Blighty! How fair would that be?’