Until Philippe’s phone buzzed. He ignored it at first, then quickly checked the caller. ‘It’s Jean-Christophe. I left him in charge at the restaurant. I’m sorry – I’d better just take the call. He wouldn’t ring for no reason.’

Meredith looked on. He was a workaholic like her, and workaholics could never completely switch off.

She could see from his face that it was serious. Philippe ran through various options in rapid French, but clearly Jean-Christophe had already tried them all.

Meredith asked herself what she would do in his position, and the answer was undeniable: she would go and sort it out. She was on the point of standing up to accompany him to reception, when he put his phone back in his pocket and smiled.

‘No gas and thirty covers to feed.’ He shrugged. ‘Ça arrive, ces choses-là, these things happen. Jean-Christophe will find a solution.’

In the end it was he who stood up, but not to leave. He held out a hand to Meredith. ‘Shall we go up?’ Meredith could hardly believe it. He was prepared to risk a complete disaster at the restaurant in order to spend the night with her.

Suzi examined every zip and pocket of the black suede bag. She stroked it, checked all its different features and then sighed with suppressed longing.

The relationship with David had proved more problematic than she’d hoped. He seemed to approach life in a diametrically opposite way from her. She’d always been more of a spender than a saver, and he was the other way round. Sometimes she wondered if he regretted the whole thing.

She studied the bag again, remembering a cartoon she’d seen of a saleslady consoling a female shopper: ‘Hello, madame, I’ve got the perfect shoe for a disappointing marriage.’

This was the perfect bag.

‘It’s gorgeous. Utterly divine,’ Suzi sighed. ‘Exactly the one I’ve always wanted. I can’t believe it’s actually for sale here in Bratenac – and for only five thousand euro.’

Janine gulped. Could she even pretend to ask for five thousand euro?

A sudden inspiration came to her. She was supposed to be selling the bag on behalf of a rich but conveniently anonymous acquaintance. ‘You’re a good friend and it’s a lot of money, Suze. Why don’t you take it home and be sure you really like it, before you hand over the dosh?’

‘Your friend won’t mind?’

Janine looked coy. ‘No, because I won’t tell her.’

‘You’re a pal, Janine.’

‘So how’s it all going with David?’

Suzi turned away. ‘Do you mind if we don’t talk about it?’

So Jackie was right. Things weren’t hunky dory. Janine had heard Suzi moan about how cautious David was with money, and wondered what he would make of Suzi spending five thousand euro on a handbag. Or whether Suzi intended to tell him.