Meredith had to laugh, remembering Suzi’s reaction to the simplicity of Sophie’s bridal suite; thank God Sophie hadn’t been there. So far, she’d seen absolutely no sign of this ‘good design eye’ Jackie had promised. Unless Jackie liked chairs with skirts on, too.

‘Right,’ said Jo. ‘Important question. Has anyone found out if Ronnie knows about Steph and David’s split?’

‘Surely she must,’ Meredith replied uncertainly. ‘I mean – they’re sisters.’

‘That’s exactly why I’m not so sure,’ argued Jo. ‘There’s quite a lot of rivalry between those two. I think Steph quite enjoyed being the one with the successful marriage.’

‘But surely,’ replied Sophie, who was an only child, ‘her sister’s the first person she’d turn to for support?’

Jo shrugged. ‘Families aren’t always as straightforward as they seem.’

‘Well, we’ll soon find out,’ said Meredith. ‘And anyway, why is she asking to stay here rather than at Fleur-de-Lis?’

‘Maybe she likes our grand appointments,’ Jo gestured round at the rococo décor of the salon. ‘It does rather suit Ronnie’s personality.’

‘Well, I hope she’s not planning to stay for long,’ pronounced Meredith crossly. ‘I find a little of Ronnie goes a long way!’

The usual morning rush was over. Marcelline had taken to staying on an extra unpaid half hour to make Steph a cup of coffee, which she knew was a gesture of solidarity even if tact wasn’t exactly the girl’s strong point.

‘You must be missing Monsieur Adams very much,’ Marcelline stated loudly. ‘He was always such a helpful man, so considerate, always trying to make things easier for you. You would never find a French man like that!’ Marcelline’s opinion of men in general was not high, but she had made an exception for David. ‘You look very tired now he has gone. I could work a few extra hours, if you wanted?’

Steph made a polite reply, but she felt the familiar panic rising. She had no real idea if they could even afford a little extra for Marcelline. She knew she needed to get to grips with the accounts, but that had been so much David’s job. Hers had been the domestic side of the chambre d’hôte.

She felt suddenly overwhelmed with anger at David for leaving, even though she was the one who had chucked him out. But was Marcelline right? Was it partly her own fault for not appreciating what he was doing for her? She looked away, not wanting Marcelline to see that tears were close to the surface.

‘Un petit cognac is what you need, madame!’ counselled Marcelline, getting to her feet. In the midst of her life falling apart, Steph smiled at this universal French panacea.

‘No thanks, Marcelline, but thank you for your support.’