‘Not exactly clothes for flower arranging,’ Sophie sighed.

‘Hello, Mum.’ Nicky embraced her. ‘What a colourful dress!’

‘Half price on the internet. It’s Fendi. I won’t tell you how much.’

Bill and Maureen exchanged a look.

‘Hello, Bill,’ Ronnie finally greeted him, at the same time totally ignoring Maureen. ‘This is your big moment, giving away your little girl. As long as you don’t upstage the bride, of course.’

‘Not likely to be me who manages that,’ Bill commented wryly. ‘But, yes, it is a big moment. Pity Martin isn’t here. I didn’t know bridegrooms were banned from the pre-wedding dinner. Is it bad luck or something?’

‘No, it’s his ghastly family,’ Nicky laughed. ‘For the sake of peace tomorrow, he felt he ought to spend tonight with them. He told me to remember we’d have the rest of our lives together.’

Bill put his arm round his daughter affectionately. ‘He seems like a good man. You know, I’m really happy for you, darling. And proud.’

Watching the heartfelt gesture between father and daughter, Sophie felt a sudden sense of loss. She sought out her mother. ‘Are you OK, Mum?’ she asked, slipping her arm round Jo. ‘About Dad coming tomorrow, I mean.’

‘I’ll survive. After all, I’ve got you.’ She squeezed her daughter’s hand. ‘Where’s Steph, by the way? Auntie of the bride and the reason we’re having the wedding here at all. Surely she’s coming?’

‘After the wine tasting. She’s got her guests to feed and wonderful Jean-Christophe’s busy here, so she’s doing the cooking.’

‘OK.’ Liam started to tap a wineglass with a spoon for silence. ‘As everyone seems to be here, why don’t we start the tasting?’

Lucille Latignac stretched out a purple-painted toe over the edge of the bath, sipped her chilled Sauvignon and smiled her catlike smile. It had been such a clever idea of hers to offer to help out at the wedding, and clearly destiny had taken a hand in making one of Jean-Christophe’s staff so ill that, at the last minute, he’d finally got in touch.

She had a very good feeling about tomorrow.

She had emailed Philippe, using her most formal and businesslike tone, and asked if she could stay given how late the clearing up would go on. He had accepted in an equally formal tone. But she wasn’t fooled. Once she was there she could slip into his bed and, really, what man could refuse her?

She studied herself in the mirror. Huge aquamarine eyes looked back at her from beneath the fringe of stylishly cut black hair. No matter how broke she’d been, she’d never economized on hairdressers.

But she wouldn’t be broke any longer. She’d be back with Philippe, and this time she wouldn’t be a waitress. In fact, she wouldn’t have to work at all.