‘Fine,’ agreed Steph, realizing her friend might like to come back alone. ‘Why don’t we try the new place everyone’s talking about? It’s right on the riverbank about half a mile on.’

‘Sounds great.’

They wandered on happily, arm in arm, watching the wide, green depths of the river with willows dipping their branches into the water’s edge, creating secret hidden places.

After about fifteen minutes they spotted some tables and chairs ranged along a decking platform that hung right over the river. Most of the tables were for two people, but three had been pushed together and were occupied by a noisy group who seemed to be accompanied by a large number of dogs, much to the disapproval of the other customers.

‘Oh my God,’ Steph giggled. ‘It’s the Bratenac Ladies’ Luncheon Club!’

‘And what on earth is that?’

‘They’re all expats who hang around in the Café de la Paix. The permatanned one is Jackie Brown, married to our local builder.’

Jackie was at that moment speaking in French to a young man who was waiting at their table. Her accent was terrible, for which she compensated by declaiming at full volume. ‘Qu’est-ce que vous allez faire maintenant, Jean-Christophe?’ she enquired. And then, for the benefit of the others: ‘I’m asking what he’s going to do now he’s finished interning with his dad in the restaurant.’

Jean-Christophe, a young man of about twenty-two possessed of the dark, broodingly handsome looks of a Gitanes ad, was smiling down at her.

‘Amazing how she always knows what’s going on,’ Steph whispered to Meredith as they took their seats. ‘Be warned. Never tell her anything unless you want the entire region to find out.’

‘I will be looking for a job, madame,’ Jean-Christophe replied with a smile that could have melted every female heart within a half-mile radius. ‘Perhaps three days a week, so I can still help here when needed.’ He tucked a strand of luxuriantly curling black hair behind his ear.

The gesture suddenly reminded Meredith of her favourite rock star, a famous bad boy of the early seventies. Good heavens, she told herself firmly, I hope I’m not becoming a jaguar – or is it a cougar? Why on earth the cougar should be burdened with representing predatory older women was beyond her. But then, she didn’t imagine newts got pissed, yet they were lumbered with that label whether they liked it or not.

Along with the rest of the restaurant she couldn’t help hearing Jackie’s question to the young man. It seemed he was a chef who needed a part-time job. How interesting. Meredith, with her highly evolved business brain, stored the information away.

Before they’d even given their order, Jackie was grilling him again.

‘Does it need to be near here?’ she enquired in hundred-decibel tones.

‘Yes, madame, in Bratenac if I can find one.’