‘I only tried the local white, remember. Whether I liked it or not.’

Steph tried not to smile at how much this clearly still rankled.

Next was a clothes stall selling dresses in thick, slubby Italian linen. Steph stopped and fingered one of the dresses hanging up on display. ‘It’s really good quality, feel.’

Meredith raised a disdainful eyebrow.

‘OK, OK, I know you only wear designer . . . but this one would really suit you.’ She held up a knee-length dress in bright pale green, the colour of a new shoot, patterned with the outline of leaves in a darker shade. ‘Go on, try it on!’

‘What – there?’ Meredith pointed to the half sheet slung across a tiny alcove set aside for clothes-trying.

‘Don’t be so pompous! Try it!’

‘Madame, try,’ encouraged the vendor. ‘It could be made for you!’

‘I’ll be the judge of that.’ Meredith reached for the dress and carried it off, still shaking her head at the ludicrousness of the situation.

When she emerged a moment later, Steph burst into smiles. ‘It’s really great! That colour is perfect for you.’

Meredith studied herself in the mirror. The cut was surprisingly stylish, just the right length, shaped at the waist and with short sleeves that covered any incipient bingo wings. Not that Meredith would ever have those.

‘How much?’ she enquired in a bored tone.

‘Twenty-five euro, madame.’

‘Twenty-five euro? God, I pay that much for parking when I’m at home. OK, at that price I suppose I’d better have it.’

‘Come on, big spender,’ Steph teased, ‘let’s go home and we can ring up Jo.’

‘What a lovely idea!’ laughed Meredith as they passed through the remaining stalls, who were now beginning to pack up, the best of their business accomplished.

They started off towards home, passing a pancake stall, the distinctive aroma filling their nostrils as the young woman spread the mix astonishingly thinly onto the hotplate. Seeing this always made Steph think of the LPs she’d played on the Dansette record player in her teenage bedroom.

Meredith stopped, breathed in the glorious scent and enquired, a saucy grin suddenly transforming her sophisticated manner, ‘Have you had a crêpe lately?’

Steph came to a halt, her hand over her mouth, totally shocked at the lavatorial double entendre. Something was happening to Meredith. The high-flying businesswoman seemed to be shedding her cool and blasé demeanour and returning to the mischievous, irreverent Merry of their sixth-form days.

‘I love you, Meredith Harding,’ Steph stated and gave her a sisterly hug. ‘Come on, let’s get home and call Joanna as soon as we can, or the dreaded LeBruns will be invading the homestead.’