‘It’s like anywhere you buy, I imagine,’ shrugged Meredith. ‘You think it’s OK, then they take down their pictures and the whole place needs redecorating! But . . .’ She smiled broadly at the revelation. ‘The duchess has sold me a lot of the furniture at a very reasonable price. She’s picked out the best stuff, naturally. Some of the pictures are very valuable and she’s taking those, but we’ll have enough to get along with. Steph can advise us on where to pick up anything to fill the gaps – and anyway, you have some ideas about bridal suites, don’t you, Sophie?’

Sophie nodded enthusiastically, eager to put her design plans into practice. ‘There you are, Mum,’ she teased Jo. ‘I knew we should have bought that huge painting. I wonder if it’s still there?’

‘Should we start doing up the bedrooms, do you reckon?’ Meredith pondered.

‘Absolutely!’ Sophie insisted. ‘Even if it’s only a lick of paint. Staying in the château will be an important part of the package.’

Steph, who had arrived with a tray of drinks, felt a sudden pang. She’d got used to having them all here and was going to miss them so much! Still, they would only be a mile away. The thought struck her, painfully, that their presence had been a welcome distraction from an unwelcome truth: that she and David seemed to have lost the closeness she had valued so much. She had to ask him now for the little caring gestures that had once been spontaneous – the cup of tea in bed when they’d been up late working; the glass of wine in the bath he used to bring her before the evening onslaught.

When they’d all left, she would have to face up to it. Something was wrong.

‘So where’s the divine Margot moving to?’ Steph enquired. ‘A flat in Paris, with any luck, so the lovely old duke can get the care he’s going to need. I can’t imagine Margot changing any nappies when he gets senile.’

They all tried not to giggle at this unlikely prospect.

‘No,’ commented Jo, ‘she’ll be out tending her secret garden. That’s a woman’s right in France, so she told me. An erotic playground for her and her lover.’

‘I think I’ll stick to climbing frames,’ Meredith grinned. ‘Or maybe the odd slide.’

‘I don’t know, Meredith,’ Sophie dared to add. ‘Philippe’s pretty damn sexy, in my view.’

‘Can a man his age be sexy?’ asked Jo, trying to fill the suddenly tense moment with an outrageous question.

‘Mum!’ Sophie reminded her. ‘You adore Harrison Ford and he’s about a hundred and you’ve always fancied Bruce Spingsteen, and what about Jeff Bridges? Don’t say you haven’t got a soft spot for him! And what about the wine manager?’ she added naughtily. ‘He’s pretty attractive too.’