‘If you both think it would really help, I’ll do it,’ Jo agreed. ‘Though God knows when or how.’

‘But this is ridiculous!’

Back in Basingstoke, Ronnie had just read the email from Meredith that had been sitting for the last three days in her inbox. ‘How can a wedding possibly cost that much? Ours was above a pub and everyone had pints and pasties and the whole thing cost less than a grand!’

‘And look how that turned out!’ Nicky protested. ‘Martin and I want a romantic wedding in a wonderful setting with all our friends round us to treasure forever!’

‘That’s all very well, but who’s going to pay for it?’

‘Dad is.’ Nicky had been working up to telling Ronnie that her father had agreed to meet the entire cost with no argument.

‘But that means he’ll be there. With that woman!’

‘Of course he will, Mum. You can’t expect him to pay for the wedding and not come? Anyway, the split was years ago, and you did throw him out, remember?’

Nicky knew her father was rather a dull man, but as she grew older, dull didn’t seem such an insult as it once had. She had, over the years, spent time with Bill and Maureen at their home in Penge. She hadn’t, as some people in her position did, fallen in love with her little brothers and sister, but she had found them perfectly nice people.

‘Well,’ said Ronnie dramatically, ‘I’ve just read on this website that the person people look at most after the bride is her mother. So I’m just off to choose my outfit.’ She swept out, clutching her laptop.

‘Yeah,’ Nicky murmured, with a kind of bitter acceptance born of experience, ‘thanks for being interested in what I’m going to wear!’ But at least it meant her mum was accepting that the wedding was actually going to take place.

There was one advantage to Ronnie’s self-obsession: Nicky didn’t need to consult her or put up with her saying ‘You’re going to spend that much on a dress?’ or point out again that she could have a honeymoon for the same money. This was going to be a wonderful wedding, and she’d happily settle for a honeymoon in the Isle of Wight if it meant she could have the dress of her dreams.

Nicky wasn’t the only person who wanted to find the right dress to make an impression. Meredith was standing in front of a long pearl-embellished mirror that had belonged to Margot and before her, countless previous ladies of St Savarin over hundreds of years, getting dressed for her date with Philippe.