But we started off. Giles was so occupied that he took absolutely no notice of us speaking in French together. I told her, in a brief resume, about my meeting with Aronovich, that I had liked him for some reason, that he had seemed pleasant, a little preoccupied under a thick layer of good manners, and that I had gained absolutely no information on James at all. At this point I did not say anything about a Peugeot 604 or anything else in that area. Until I was perfectly sure of my facts it was better to remain mute on that subject. That could come later. If there was a ‘later’.

‘So. When will he collect the canvases?’ She was obviously disappointed.

‘When I call him, really. Next week sometime. Building an hotel is a very time-consuming business, I gather. It’s getting near, but not yet.’

‘And he had no ideas to give you? About James?’

‘Nothing at all. He said that he knew that he had gone away, as he called it, but had not seen “hair nor hide”, in his words, since well before January. When do you last remember seeing him? Aronovich? In the summer?’

She set aside a bone on her plate, pushed her fork around.

‘No. Later I think. There was a time in October. He came then. I was with my mother in the kitchen, we were making jam. He came then. I saw him walking up the path with the Jacquet boy. October. That was when I saw him last. James, I don’t know.’

Madame Mazine was at my side, a whisper with head bowed, I was wanted on the telephone. Madame Colcott.

The telephone cabin was hard beside the desk, an accordion door, the walls lined in a faded chintz of parrots in laburnum blossoms. I slammed the door shut and took the receiver from the urgently ringing machine.

‘William? Helen, sorry. But you didn’t call. You said six!’

‘You said six. I waited.’

‘I gave you the card. At the airport. You are impossible!’

‘There is no telephone number on the card, and your host is not listed.’

‘Well. I couldn’t call. It’s chaos here, so much to do. One of the mothers is ill and can’t come and we have to find a chaperon … I have to. Look, I can’t make Saturday, it’s just no good. You are miles away and I don’t fancy sitting on my backside in a French taxi for four hours.’

‘All right. Fine.’

‘Well, see it my way. It’s four hours out of my day. And the time at your house, you know? It’s impossible. And Eric can’t really do without me so near the recce. I was only coming over to see that Giles was all right.’

‘He’s fine. We are in the middle of dinner at the moment.’

‘Having my haddock?’

‘No. Actually not.’