Meredith caught the hint of anxiety in her tone and felt suddenly angry with the man. What was he doing that made Steph worry and spoiled this happy moment?

‘By the way,’ Steph visibly cheered. ‘You know you mentioned bumping into Philippe looking like death after he’d been out on the town? Jean-Christophe explained to me and Sophie what he was really doing.’

‘And what was that?’ Meredith asked defensively.

‘Chasing after his father, who has dementia and who he refuses to put into a home,’ Steph announced with a certain satisfaction, which annoyed Meredith. ‘The old man keeps running away in the middle of the night even when they lock him in. Last time he was in a barn covered in cow pats.’

Meredith took a deep breath. Shit. It might not be her best quality, but she didn’t like to admit she was wrong – especially where people were concerned. ‘I obviously deserve a gold star in character assessment,’ she grinned, deciding not to take umbrage after all. In fact, she thought, she’d quite like to apologize.

After lunch, Sophie and Jo went upstairs so that her mother could give her a blow-by-blow account of what had happened with the lawyer.

‘Meredith’s really excited about it. I must admit, it’s quite something to watch her in action.’

‘It’s all so exciting, Mum! It really is. I said you needed an adventure,’ Sophie hugged her. ‘And here it is!’

Jo looked out of the window at the sweeping view of lush green fields, broken up here and there by the neat tracks of the vines that grew all over the region. ‘It certainly beats Basingstoke!’

After they’d gone, Steph realized she’d fallen behind with dinner and forced herself to get on with life. Where the hell was David? There was no answer to his mobile, so she sent him an irritated message and headed for the fridge to get out the meat.

Meredith decided that if she was going to apologize, there was no time like the present, and she might as well head into town. A walk along the river would do her good. When she arrived in Bratenac, she realized it was that quiet time in the afternoon when, despite it being the twenty-first century, small French towns always seemed to be closed. It couldn’t have been more different from the high-tension hustle of Singapore or Hong Kong. She would have to kill some time before heading for Philippe’s restaurant.

She made her way to a quiet cafe on the other side of the main square, bagged an outdoor table and ordered a mint tea as she watched the everyday comings and goings of the town.