‘You don’t miss the bright lights of Gay Paree?’

‘I grew up there, madame. But you can tire even of Paris. Now you could say I am a country boy.’

He smiled with the half-modest, half-flirtatious air of a young Belmondo; then, noticing the two newcomers, he turned towards them. ‘Can I get you a menu, mesdames, or are you just here for a drink?’

‘A drink first, and then something to eat.’ Meredith returned his smile.

Five minutes later they were settled in the sunshine, Meredith with a gin-tonique and Steph with a glass of local white wine, so cold that it made the glass look frosted. Steph knew the experts argued that you should drink white chilled rather than cold like this, but it was the way she loved to drink it.

They both studied the menu.

‘It’s much less up itself than we were expecting,’ Jackie informed them loudly, twisting round in her seat with surprising agility for someone who resembled a barrel wrapped in Lycra. ‘The chef has moved here from Paris and has quite a reputation, so we were expecting some incomprehensible nonsense covered in dots of balsamic vinegar.’

‘Thanks, Jackie.’ Steph went back to the menu.

Meredith was looking around her and had become so entranced with the landscape that she didn’t even hear. The river danced in the golden light of spring; it seemed to sparkle and shimmer like a mirror reflecting the sunshine. Further in the distance, the russet brick of an ancient bridge looked almost like a mirage in the midday heat.

‘I can’t believe the air.’ She threw back her head and closed her eyes. ‘So clear you can almost drink it. In Eastern cities, sitting out like this, we’d all be choking with the smog and pollution!’

‘Did you manage to find a parking space?’ Jackie enquired. ‘We’d forgotten it’s market day and had to leave the cars miles away.’

‘We walked, as a matter of fact,’ Steph replied. ‘My friend used to come here as a child and wanted to see if the château was still the same.’

‘And it is,’ laughed Meredith, mellowed by the beauty of her surroundings into a rare personal disclosure. ‘Exactly the same. My father used to say he’d buy it for me one day.’

‘Your luck’s in, then,’ Jackie remarked with a flourish, waving her blackberry martini. ‘The duke and duchess have put it up for sale. Hoping some mad Brit will buy it.’ She sipped her drink, warming to her subject. ‘You know Louie Worth, the ballerina, owns a wedding château nearby, and one of the Spice Girls another. Château weddings are big business round here.’

Meredith put down her drink. ‘How bizarre. How much are they asking?’

Steph stared at her, eyes widening in surprise.