‘I’ll get Jean-Christophe,’ reassured Sophie. ‘I’m sure he can rescue it. Mum, why don’t you show Ronnie her room? It’s the lovely green suite in the North Wing. The one Steve’s just finished.’ To stave off any incipient complaints, she added: ‘It’s one of my favourites.’

‘I hate green,’ responded Ronnie. ‘And it better not smell of turps and new paint. I’m very prone to headaches.’ She started to follow Jo, then stopped. ‘Where are bloody Bill and Maureen sleeping?’ she demanded.

‘In the West Tower. A long way from you.’

‘It couldn’t be too far. Have I got a bathroom?’

‘Of course you have. All our rooms have bathrooms.’

‘Theirs had better not be bigger than mine. And where’s Nicky? I expected her to at least come and greet me?’

‘She’s having a little snooze. She had a very early start,’ replied Sophie. ‘I promised to wake her when you all arrived, so I’ll do that now and I’m sure she won’t be a minute.’ She turned to the grandmother, who seemed to have calmed down now that the cake was to be taken off her hands. ‘And how about you, Nora? Can I show you to your room as well?’

They set off, with Nora quietly following in her theatrical daughter’s wake.

‘Everything set for the wine tasting?’ Meredith asked Jo.

‘As far as I know,’ replied Jo, embarrassed that everyone always applied questions involving Liam to her. ‘I’d better go and see about the restoration of the château, chocolate version, then I’ll check.’

Jean-Christophe took one look and shook his head. ‘Je suis désolé, madame, but I have never been a pastry cook. I’m afraid we will have to ask my father.’

Jo thought for a moment about consulting the patisserie in town, but she didn’t know them well. Besides, time was getting on.

‘Could you possibly give him a call?’ she asked Jean-Christophe.

‘Assuredly I can, although on a Friday night he may be very busy.’

Busy or not, an hour later Philippe turned up and carried the ruined cake, still in its box, carefully into the kitchen.

‘Putain!’ he murmured under his breath as he gently removed it from the soggy cardboard, ‘to leave a chocolate cake in the coffre of a car in this heat! And such a wonderful cake too.’ He caught his son’s eye and they both laughed. ‘I will have to find a way of restoring its former glory – for the honour of the St Savarins!’

As it happened, at that very moment the duchess of St Savarin had sneaked into the orangery and was interrogating Liam as to what wines would be consumed at the wedding.

She was quite impressed at the choice. ‘But, most important, what have they chosen for the toast?’

‘The Savarin crémant, madame.’