Today Liam was busy thinning out the leaves on the side of the vines that faced the sunrise so that the newly budded grapes would achieve maximum exposure to the warming rays. He didn’t at first hear Margot’s approach because he had music on, apparently coming from some device he carried in his jeans.

Margot, about to tap him on the shoulder, stopped instead, smiling.

Liam was listening to the warm and heartfelt tones of American singer Scott Walker. When she realized which song he appeared to have on repeat, Margot held back a moment.

‘I can’t forget’, he sang along with Scott, ‘the one they call Joanna . . .’

In an unusual outbreak of tact, Margot turned round and headed back to her little house. Let him enjoy the music.

She just hoped he wouldn’t leave it at that.

Steph sat down, fighting the wave of exhaustion that hit her in the late afternoon. All the changeovers had been done, beds made, bathrooms cleaned and the dinner ingredients assembled. Thank God tonight it was Jean-Christophe who would be cooking them.

She decided to take advantage of her rare moment of freedom by nipping up to the château. She took a box of cheese straws she’d made for the guests from the top shelf of the pantry. They wouldn’t miss what they didn’t know about. No need to take wine, since the château had plenty from its own vineyard.

She found Sophie, the list queen, trying to discover when all the family members would be arriving next week.

‘Good luck with that!’ she laughed. ‘Organizing Ronnie is like herding cats. She’ll tell you she’s arriving by Eurostar at six p.m. and then grab an Easyjet and turn up at four!’

‘Thanks for the warning.’ Sophie took a deep breath. ‘At least I know when the bride’s coming! Nicky messaged me that she’s booked a seat for herself and another one for her wedding dress.’

‘What about the bridegroom?’ asked Jo, who’d just joined them. ‘He is quite important to the proceedings.’

‘I suppose she could get married to herself,’ Steph giggled. ‘People have actually done that in America, you know!’

‘Nicky’s not the type,’ Jo smiled. ‘Now if we were talking about Ronnie . . .’

‘I think the groom is coming separately. Staying in a room at the Pomme D’Amour. As far away as possible from his family. What’s he like, by the way?’

‘Martin?’ Steph replied. ‘I don’t know him very well. Quiet type, but seems nice enough. Where’s Meredith, by the way?’