And then there were all the cooking utensils, mobile gas hobs, bamboo cutlery, paper plates, glasses and napkins. Plus the challenge of payment methods. Should it be cash only? The trouble was, so many people didn’t have cash any more, so she would need to sort out some means of electronic payment.

All this organization fortunately left little time for fruitless speculation on the past. Even still, a rebellious part of her brain reminded her that Philippe would certainly be in evidence.

How was she going to feel when she saw him – and her son?

‘I see you’ve shaved,’ Meredith smiled at Philippe as they drove up the narrow, winding road towards the restaurant. ‘I’m flattered.’

‘But of course, mademoiselle,’ he laughed, his eyes firmly on the road. ‘You have commented several times on my unkempt appearance.’

Meredith felt a prick of embarrassment that, early in their acquaintance, she had dismissed him for drinking all night when he had actually been looking for his runaway father. And now she had Nelly as a permanent reminder of how misleading superficial judgements could be.

The view all around them was stunning. Rich green pastures rising up the hillside, occasionally wooded, with small farms and tiny villages half hidden in the valley below. But Meredith found her glance drawn not by the landscape but Philippe’s face. He really was a very good-looking man.

‘Tell me about where we’re going,’ she forced herself to say.

‘Small château. Typical of the region. In fact, here it comes now.’

They arrived at the top of the hill and found themselves in a doll’s-house-sized square with a war memorial and a viewing platform where you could stand and see the whole of the Savarin valley falling away beneath you. It was breathtaking. In one corner was a golden stone building, its four towers half hidden by vines and ivy. The kind of mini-mansion you could imagine actually living in.

‘Do you want to see the church?’ Philippe enquired. ‘It’s famous for its gargoyles of devils poking the depraved and ungodly into vats of boiling oil.’

‘Charming,’ giggled Meredith. ‘The Church does like you to pay for your sin.’

‘We’d better make it worthwhile, then.’ His eyes held hers for a moment.

Meredith looked away in case she gave away too much of what she was feeling. The medieval words for it would have been ‘unbridled lust’.

She was right about the château. Inside it managed to feel cosy and welcoming with its deep sofas and small tables dotted with shady lamps. The art on the walls seemed full of light, unlike the usual dark oils and faded tapestries of similar houses. Jugs of roses from the garden filled every room with the heady scent of early summer.