Alice and Nina crossed over the Seine and began the long walk along rue du Bac to Sylvie’s apartment. One of the highlights of Nina’s weekends in Paris was the chance to see her grandmother. When Nina had first met her, Sylvie had seemed stern and disapproving, but she soon realised that was directed towards Samir, not her. Sylvie had been furious when her only son publicly shamed Nina in the papers for humiliating him at le Bal, and she compensated by making sure Nina knew she was welcome in her life any time she chose. Soon their relationship was flourishing, Nina teaching her grandmother how to speak English and, in return, Sylvie showing Nina how to cook the food her own grandmother had made her in Morocco: grilled meats and vegetables and huge plates of steaming rice, tinted yellow with saffron and scented with cloves.

Nina had never met her Irish grandparents, Joanie’s parents having disowned her when she fell pregnant, and she bathed in the contentment she derived from this relationship, like a cat in the sun. They rarely spoke of Samir, which suited Nina just fine. Nina was looking forward to lunch with Sylvie today, but for one thing: she hadn’t told her grandmother that Samir had contacted her in London out of the blue and had promised – over drinks at the Savoy – that he would help with her music career as an apology for being a useless father. And she hadn’t told her yet that she’d dropped out of her music degree as a result. She knew that Sylvie would be disappointed; would tell her that Samir couldn’t be trusted to look out for anyone except himself. And Nina knew that was true, but she was racking up enormous debts as a student already, and her most likely destination after her degree was tutoring some poor kid who didn’t want to be there. The thing about people with money is they always assume everyone else has it too; not just Sylvie and Samir, she’d seen it with Alice and Jules. While Nina would never ask Samir, or Sylvie, for money, she knew Samir was right about one thing – if her demos were ever going to reach a music executive, she’d need a connection. She’d have been mad not to say yes.

Perhaps she was delaying telling Sylvie, but as she passed Le Bac à Glaces with Alice, she couldn’t help but stop and peer through the glass at the counters beyond: sesame and pistachio, caramel and salted butter, honey and pine nuts… they all sounded so good. ‘Shall we get an ice cream?’

While she waited inside to order, Alice securing them a table outside on the pavement, she wondered whether to talk to Alice about Teddy. Her relationship with Teddy was one of the few things Nina didn’t discuss with her friends. Her open heart, her exposure to him, felt too raw and vulnerable. But it had been going on so long now, this impasse, she was beginning to wonder whether she had misread the situation.