Madame Prideaux was pulling on her gloves. ‘The house seems to me that it is smiling again. You understand? You have worked hard.’

‘Not really. Just shoved things about with M’sieur Simon and his sons.’

‘Get rid of all those canvases up in the hayloft.’ She had lowered her voice, keeping one eye on Florence, who was talking to Giles. ‘Then you will have a splendid room.’

We shook hands and she got into her car and began to back in a rather alarming way down to the turning-place.

‘She’s not very good at it,’ said Giles.

Florence laughed. ‘Not at all good. Very bad. We let her go first so that if she has an accident, you know? – we are not too close to her, but close enough to help if we must.’

‘A huge bash in her mudguard.’

‘We must paint it.’ There was an agony of crashing gears, Florence covered her ears with her hands and, laughing, slid into her seat, started the engine, wound down the window and slammed the door.

‘Thank you, William, Giles, for the tea.’

We stood watching Madame Prideaux ease into the road and then move off in a series of sputtering jerks towards Bargemon-sur-Yves.

We waved until they had disappeared behind the hedge.

‘I’ll have to do a bit of trimming one day. Oh lor’ … Thanks, by the way. Very good, Giles. Not easy.’

‘He’s a nice little boy.’

‘Yes. Rotten, isn’t it, to be born like that?’

‘He doesn’t know, though. Does he? That he’s different?’

‘No. Don’t think so.’

‘I think he’d get quite used to me, don’t you? Then we could go to the stream, I know he’d like it. The woman could come too, for safety, but I reckon I could manage.’

‘I reckon that you could,’ I said.

I asked Madame Mazine to get me Aronovich’s number in Cannes, washed, found a change of shirt and was buttoning it up when the phone rang. To my surprise it was not the Arab voice this time, but Aronovich himself.

‘It’s William Colcott. I’m delighted to hear you.’

‘Ah yes. Yes. You are surprised? Sunday, I am not at the hotel at seven o’clock on Sunday. Can I help you?’

‘The canvases …’

‘Yes. You would like them to be collected already?’

‘Tomorrow? Or Tuesday? I have builders who can come to me on Wednesday, but if I lose them they can’t come again until after August. The holidays and some other engagements.’

‘It’s very short notice.’ He sounded preoccupied, almost vague, as if I had awakened him suddenly.

‘I’m sorry.’

‘I’ll try. Try to get a truck tomorrow.’ His voice was uncertain.

‘In the afternoon, if you will. I have beds being delivered in the morning?’

He was silent, considering.

‘Ah. Then let us make it Tuesday definitely. Tuesday morning. Will that suit your arrangements?’

‘Admirably. About ten? There is a lot of carrying up and down, they will have assistance?’