At this moment, our table is approached by a bronzed Taki, the Greek playboy, wearing the sweater with the round Eagle Club badge, same as Granville. With his eyes on Virginie, the Greek invites us all to a party the following night at his chalet in Gstaad. ‘It’s at the Palataki,’ he says, his eyes never leaving Virginie. ‘My chalet. It means small palace. It’s a sort of pun combining “palace”, and “Taki”,’ he needlessly adds, as if only silver-tongued wordsmiths would understand without explanation. ‘Just ask any taxi driver.’

Virginie and I exchange a look. That sounds fun, and Taki is exuding an unmistakeable, up-for-it whiff. But though we all look visibly thrilled, as is only polite, and thank Taki for his invitation, when he has moved on, the baron – egged on by a boot-faced Jacqueline, Granville and Cath all say that they don’t want to go and why do old Eurotrash goats frolic with girls who could be their own granddaughters and things like that, which seems most unsporting of them.

And the party is ruled out.

Later, though, some of us had… a party of our own.

I was in the sauna, out in the grounds. I’d picked up the wrong towel, the sort of mid-sized one between the hand towel and the bath towel, and was trying to get it to cover my breasts and bottom, when the door pushed open.

There was still an hour or so until our sit-down four-course dinner.

Virginie entered, with the towel draped around her hips, revealing high round breasts with small round pink nipples perfectly positioned in the centre of each, like bosses on a shield.

‘Hello,’ I said.

‘’Ello,’ she drawled, in reply. She dropped the towel, and lay down on the bench opposite me, proud and naked. In the orange light, her golden bush looked as if it were on fire. She raised a knee. Then her hands went to her chest, and she started playing with the moisture that had beaded between her gleaming, pointy breasts.

I began to feel very hot. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. I was still a bit merry from lunch, I suppose.

She turned her head on one side, and regarded me speculatively. ‘Take off ze towel,’ she said. ‘I want to see you.’

It had been so long since anyone had ordered me around, let alone a very bad French woman with a reputation for seducing both sexes with carnal abandon, that I felt a thrill of submission.

I smoothed the towel out on the hot wooden slats, then sat on it, to reduce the contact of buttocks with sizzling wood. Then she sat up on her bench, so we were facing each other.