She opened her eyes from this pleasurable interlude to find that Nicky had finally sent her the guest list.

Twelve family members were to stay in the newly refurbished château, while Martin’s family – Sophie grinned at the memory that they didn’t get on – were lodging at various hotels round about. Then to the guest list. This numbered eighty people: a nice neat figure that could be divided up into ten tables of eight or, perhaps better, eight tables of ten.

Nicky had helpfully added a line of description beside each name. Sophie ran her eyes down the guest list, not expecting to recognize anyone, then stood suddenly as still as a statue. Halfway down the alphabetical list of names were Mark and Amanda Walker, described as ‘friends of Martin’s from work’.

Shit, shit, shit!

What Nicky clearly hadn’t taken in was that Mark Walker was Sophie’s father, and that while Sophie and Jo had been in France, he’d gone ahead and married Amanda the airheaded sales exec, and here they were on the guest list.

Jean-Christophe looked in the mirror above the fireplace and attempted to comb his luxuriant curls into a semblance of order. He was meeting his mother for lunch and, without quite understanding why, had given more thought than usual to his appearance. It wasn’t as if she were going to love him more because he’d dressed carefully. All the same, he was aware of wanting to look his best and had selected a smarter outfit than usual of black turtleneck and black jeans.

‘Nom de Dieu!’ commented a voice behind him rudely. ‘Where are you going? You look like a waiter at a Parisian funeral.’

He turned to find his grandfather surveying him with the gaze of a malicious gargoyle.

Jean-Christophe considered ducking the question but knew his grandfather would find out. ‘En effet, I am meeting my mother for lunch.’

‘Oh, her.’ His tone couldn’t have been more withering. ‘What do you want to waste your time on doing that for?’

Jean-Christophe suppressed a smile. His grandfather had never taken to Lucille and, like the rest of the world, had only condemnation for a woman who was prepared to leave her own child, no matter what the motivation.

‘Be careful, mon petit.’ The old man’s voice rang with sudden tenderness. ‘Ask yourself why she suddenly wants to come back into your life. Was it really an accident of luck, or has she planned the whole thing?’

‘Sophie, are you OK?’ Meredith asked. ‘Only you look as if you’ve seen a ghost. The White Lady isn’t out and about, I hope?’

‘No,’ Sophie covered her face with her hands, ‘this is all too real, I’m afraid. I’ve just got the guest list from Nicky.’

‘And? Has she asked double the number you expected?’