‘So that’s why you’re here?’ His voice was barbed with bitterness and the expression in his eyes changed so swiftly from excitement to contempt that she could hardly bear to look at him. ‘So that I can rescue you from an ant infestation?’

Steph knew instantly she’d blown it; that anything she said now would sound fake.

‘Well, you do still own half the place,’ she added limply.

‘I suggest you go on Google,’ he replied in a voice drained of all emotion. ‘There’s bound to be a twenty-four-hour service that deals with such things. I’m afraid it doesn’t happen to be me.’

He picked up his book and began studiously reading as if she wasn’t still standing there two feet away from him.

It wasn’t your heart that hurt, Steph realized, in a situation like this. It was your stomach that wanted to throw up and your bones that wanted to crumble beneath you. She turned sadly away and walked back towards her car, unable to think of anything beyond putting one foot in front of the other.

As anyone who has been involved in planning a wedding knows, they have a habit of turning into monsters that eat up all the participants’ time, energy and finances. Yet the fantasy of the perfect wedding is not to be resisted.

As the big day approached, all Sophie, Jo and Meredith found themselves doing was talking to coach and minibus drivers, negotiating with the chosen DJ and the string quartet who would play during the drinks reception, following up on lighting effects, double-checking equipment hire, reassuring the celebrant that the bride and groom were busy writing their vows, fixing an arrival time for the hair and make-up artists . . . not to mention dealing with videographers, photographers and a drone specialist.

Welcome to the modern wedding.

The one thing Sophie still had no idea about was the flowers. What exactly had been ordered and when were they due to arrive? Since she could get no answer from Ronnie, Sophie decided to try catching Nicky for an update.

‘No idea, I’m afraid,’ Nicky shrugged. ‘In fact, she’s been ominously silent about everything. Martin, me and the dress are flying to Bratenac on Friday morning. Could you possibly book us a taxi? Me and the dress, that is. Martin’s hiring a car so he can ferry his ghastly family around.’

‘Lucky Martin,’ said Sophie.

‘Don’t worry. Mine can be fairly poisonous too.’

‘Oh, goody,’ Sophie grinned. ‘I’ll look forward to it.’

‘The weather forecast looks good,’ Nicky announced happily.

Sophie looked out of the window at the blazing sun and bone-dry landscape. ‘Actually, we’re having a bit of a heatwave at the moment. The French call it une canicule. The winegrowers love it. It ripens the grapes.’

‘Let’s hope it’s over by the weekend when I come. I wilt in the heat!’