‘Hey girls,’ she suggested, ‘how about an early lunch tomorrow in that new pop-up restaurant down by the river?’ Shirley declined because, being a happy housewife, she liked cooking for her husband, but the others looked keen. ‘It’s been taken over by a famous chef. From Paris,’ Jackie added ominously.

‘Why does he want to open a restaurant in a portacabin in Bratenac, then?’ asked Mandy, who resented all new culinary competition. ‘Anyway, who wants to eat beetroot prepared five ways? You can’t understand half of what you’re ordering with these trendy new menus.’

‘Well, let’s go and see for ourselves,’ soothed Jackie.

They arranged to meet at twelve for a pre-lunch glass to inspect the new venue.

Just as they were leaving, that nice man married to Stephanie Adams came in and quietly went up to the bar, avoiding the lustful glance cast at him by Suzi. It was becoming a bit of a habit with him to slip in here for a drink, Jackie noticed.

‘Suzi!’ hissed Jackie, catching her in the act of undoing her top button. ‘Behave. And do that button right back up. Stephanie Adams is a nice woman and Steve helped with their building work and said her husband was a really good bloke.’

‘You mean he gave Steve a beer on the job, I bet,’ retorted Suzi, tossing her luxuriant black curls.

Jackie ignored her, although it was probably true. Steve had also commented that David Adams had as much grasp of DIY as a gorilla, possibly less. According to Steve, most of the Brits who bought châteaux round here fancied themselves as artists with the Black & Decker. The usual story was that the wife was convinced she was Kelly Hoppen – probably someone at home had once complimented her on her cushions – and the husband thought he could do all the refurb work himself. On the basis of such illusions many wrecks were purchased, Steve said – and often they completely took over the buyers’ lives, destroying their marriages and eating up their entire life savings. He’d seen it time and time again. Still, it was all good business for Steve.

‘Hello, Mr Adams,’ Jackie greeted him cheerfully. He looked startled and slightly guilty. Clearly his wife had no idea he came in here so often. ‘Jackie Brown,’ she enlightened him, ‘Steve the builder’s wife. I’m sure we’ve bumped into each other before.’

‘Oh, hello Mrs Brown. How are you?’

‘Very well, thanks, Mr Adams. How’s business?’

‘Not bad, thank you. Full house at the moment.’

‘That’s good. Give my regards to your wife.’ He picked up the drinks list from the bar.

‘Guillaume!’ Jackie bellowed. ‘L’addition, s’il vous plaît!’

‘J’arrive! J’arrive!’ Guillaume appeared with the bill with all the speed and elegance of a figure skater.