Philippe, completely unprepared for this sudden endorsement, took the mayor’s hand and held it in a tight and reassuring handshake. If it hadn’t been for the immediate physical gesture, he knew he would otherwise have cried.

‘And your châteleine? Has she agreed to open the festival?’

Philippe thought of Meredith and how he was seeing her tonight and felt a leap of excitement and anticipation, spiced with a healthy sprinkling of fear that she might not like what she saw. What seemed so natural, so unaffected, so unimportant when you were young took on a different tinge at this age. Both of you brought so much history and experience as well as expectation which might be different from the other person’s. On the other hand, you had tasted all the chocolates, and made up your mind which ones you liked. He wondered what Meredith would choose and found himself smiling in a sly and sexy way. Whatever the outcome, he hadn’t looked forward to anything as much as this for a very long time indeed.

‘I don’t know what you’re doing after this,’ commented the mayor, taking in Philippe’s expression, ‘but I can only say I envy you enormously.’

Lucille Latignac looked at the rooftop view and opened her notebook. It felt very strange to be going to a food festival organized by her former husband.

She didn’t regret leaving. Even after all this time the memory still stung of being treated like the waitress she was, but she did miss her son and, sometimes, the security of the family unit. She had built a successful career. She was an independent woman and proud of it, especially when she saw how much the people she helped through the street food venture appreciated her.

But still. Sometimes, in the middle of the night, she longed for another body next to hers. But was it Philippe’s? She knew she was still attractive, she’d had enough relationships to prove that and yet none had lasted and here she was, still alone.

Lucille made herself concentrate on the job at hand. She needed to organize transport for the three women who had signed up for Street Taste, eager to introduce the good people of Bratenac to the delights of tajine, cooked in its familiar conical hat to keep in the juices, vital in desert regions where there is little water; Tunisian chakchouka made of onions, pepper and tomatoes fried in a skillet with eggs thrown in to poach at the end; and harira, from Algeria, a stew of lamb, beef or chicken spiced with ginger, cinnamon and turmeric. Her favourite, mechoui – a whole lamb rubbed with cumin, coriander and thyme and either roasted on a spit or cooked in a pit – would probably have to wait till the final night, when there was often a celebration.