At Le Petit Mas, the wind begins to subside and behind it the sun shines through the clouds, pushing August aside as September rolls in. We unload the family’s belongings into the gypsy caravan. I offer them rooms in the house, now Rhi seems to be spending her time with Henri: I’m presuming her room is free. But once again they refuse: they prefer the caravan. I’m sure one day they’ll need something bigger but for now that space is theirs and they love it. The three of them together.

Finally Fabien and I walk back to his truck, unspoken words filling the air. The wind settles and I hold my face to the sun, feeling its strength. It’s time I told Fabien everything, this time without interruption. I open my eyes and look at him.

‘Fabien, about last night at the riverside clearing,’ I say, wanting him to understand I never meant to hurt him.

‘Oui,’ he says sadly.

‘Oh, my God! The riverside – dinner! I completely forgot. We have to get there! There will be people waiting to eat!’

‘Get in the truck,’ he says.

‘No, it’s quicker down the river path,’ I say. ‘I’ll run.’

‘I’ll get the food and meet you there,’ he says.

‘Stephanie!’ I call.

‘Oui?’

‘Service! At the riverside!’

‘Merde!’ She runs out of the copse of trees.

‘Language, Stephanie,’ I say, and feel everything slip back into place, as if I am a big sister, an aunt, a friend – who knows what I am? It feels very special. It doesn’t need a label. It just feels like family.

When we see the riverside clearing, we slow down, Stephanie and I. JB has gone with Fabien. We’re out of breath when we come to a complete standstill. The fairy lights are on, the firepit is lit.

Cora is standing there, as are her two friends, but they’re not beside her. There’s a big crowd and, if I’m not mistaken, the mayor is there too. The hatch is open and there is Henri, his hair tied back in its usual ponytail, with Rhi. Everyone is welcoming him back and shaking his hand. Alain and Lou are laying out the cutlery and paper plates. Lavender, in washed tin cans on the makeshift tables, fills the warm evening air with its scent.

Stephanie and I walk up to Cora side by side.

‘You won’t stop this happening, Cora,’ I say, as she stares at me.

‘We all have a right to be here, no matter how much or little money we have,’ says Stephanie, and I’m filled with pride again at the confident young woman she has become.

‘I know.’ Cora drops her head. ‘I’m sorry. I’ve come to help out, if you’ll have me. My way of making amends, so to speak.’