‘Okay,’ I say, standing to clear away our plates, glasses, coffee cups and ice-cream bowls. My feet and back ache and I’m shattered, but our work isn’t done yet. ‘Let’s take this lot to the riverside clearing,’ I say.

FORTY-TWO

There seem to be even more people than yesterday waiting at the clearing and suddenly I’m nervous again.

‘Why are there more people?’ I ask Alain, who shakes my hand when I arrive.

‘They have heard about your cooking,’ he says, in English, and I realize it’s been a long time since he’s spoken it but he clearly feels ready to try. ‘They love Henri’s food. But they have heard that the lavender lady who makes the biscuits is cooking and word has spread down the river.’

‘And are all these people homeless?’ I ask.

‘Some are without any home, some live on boats or in vans. Everyone here is without a table to go home to at night. Most would if they could.’ There is sadness in his eyes.

‘Well, we’d better get them fed,’ I say. ‘I hope I have enough.’ I’m worried now. I thought Henri just brought the day’s leftovers here. At this rate, I’m going to have to cook more.

‘Some people have no money, some a little money,’ says Alain. ‘It’s not cheap to feed all these people. Perhaps …’ he says thoughtfully ‘… perhaps an honesty box, where people pay what they can afford for their meal.’

‘That’s an excellent idea!’ I say.

‘But no one must be turned away because they can’t afford to pay anything,’ says Stephanie.

‘Exactly so!’ I agree. ‘We ask people for what they can afford, but no one will be turned away if they have nothing.’

Just then, I see Rhi and Lou coming down the riverbank, carrying a plastic bowl and bags, waving and smiling. Stephanie opens up the little makeshift kitchen and gets the food on the hob. She puts cutlery into cups and sets them on a table. Then she finds an old biscuit tin, opens it and writes a sign encouraging people to pay what they can. But if you can’t afford to, no problem: everyone eats.

‘Wow! It’s busy tonight!’ says Rhi, beaming.

‘Apparently word has got around about my cooking.’ I blush.

‘That’s fantastic!’ says Lou.

‘Well, if we can afford to keep it up. We’re asking for contributions. An honesty tin. People pay what they can afford.’

Stephanie turns on the fairy lights and the little clearing looks enchanting. Not a hang-out for the homeless, but with the lovely furniture Fabien has put there, the lights, the happy atmosphere as people meet and greet each other, the dogs pottering around, it really does look like an art installation. Someone lights a fire in an old bin, adding to the warmth of the gathering.

‘How was Henri?’