‘If you believe that, Victoria, you are a fool.’ Adele had a habit of laying down the law in this way, which made Victoria crazy. But she knew, after all these years, that it was worth listening when Adele talked. ‘Only a simpleton would think that men are only interested in sex. Yes, of course, it’s important to them, and sometimes it makes them forget all the other things. But that’s only for a while. The rest of the time, they are interested in position and status and reputation. A man like Massimo wants an easy life. And so, he must have the wife and the home and the reputation of a good family man. At any cost.’

‘Then why does he have me?’

‘Because, of course, he wants that as well.’

‘It’s not fair. Why should he get everything he wants, and I have nothing?’

‘You have plenty.’

‘I don’t. Nothing is in my name.’

‘Then you have played a bad hand.’

‘The only way I can see to change my situation is to get him to marry me. And if I have to force the issue, I will.’

‘You will not.’

‘Watch me.’

The waiter came, refilled their glasses.

‘Victoria, listen to me. Never, never force a man’s hand. If he thinks for one minute that you’re putting pressure on him, he’ll jump the other way.’

‘So what would you advise? I just sit tight, and wait for him to get bored of me, and then, when I’m too old to start again, I find I’ve got nowhere to live and no means of support? I don’t think so.’

‘Why would he get bored of you? Only if you nag him about this, I think.’

‘Oh, it’s all right for you,’ said Victoria. She rarely lost patience with Adele, but sometimes the older woman’s self-satisfaction needed slapping down. ‘We all know that you got the wonderful settlement, you’re sitting pretty. But it’s not like that for the rest of us. Some of us have to think about our future.’

‘And you think that forcing Massimo to divorce his wife is going to give you some kind of security?’

‘He loves me. He tells me so all the time. In France this time, it was different.’

‘It’s always “different”, chérie, every time you go away you tell me this.’

‘And I love him.’ There was defiance in Victoria’s voice.

‘Ah, as for that . . .’ Adele sighed. ‘Dommage . . .’

Victoria was in a bad mood when she returned to the flat. The weather, the wine and Adele’s infuriating advice conspired to give her a headache. Oh, London was ghastly at this time of year, especially with the memory of the Provençal sun on her skin. But the tan was fading, along with the intimacy they’d shared, replaced by the routine of occasional visits, discreetly paid credit card bills, lavish gifts. But never the man himself, all hers, for keeps. Adele said that what she had was enough, but it was not. Victoria needed more. There was a hunger in her that could not be satisfied by occasional lovers, like the Polish plumber, delicious as he was. He’d been back for seconds, claiming that there was a pipe in urgent need of attention, and it had been great. The next time – if there was a next time – Victoria would send him away with a flea in his ear. The boy was taking altogether too much for granted.