Jo pouted. “You never want to have any fun. Anyway, have you seen what the other girls are wearing?”

“I only have my pink dress left.” Her pink dress was her favourite. It was a knockoff of one that had been in the magazines, a Jackie Kennedy copy, sitting just on the knee with an elegant boatneck. Sophie thought it made her look more grown-up.

“Booooring,” Jo said. “But you wear that and I’ll wear the white. We’ll go to the Croisette. I heard a rumour yesterday that Pierre Massot is going to be there.”

“Another film star,” Sophie sighed. They were never where Jo thought they were going to be, and the two girls just walked around looking for them and getting blisters from their platform heels.

“No—he’s a Frog, a jeweller. Owns that famous chain of shops, like Garrard or something.”

“Oh, yes,” said Sophie. She loved jewellery, not that she owned any. But she liked looking in Jo’s magazines at what the models and princesses were wearing.

“Anyway, he’s gorgeous and filthy rich. And they say he loves pretty girls.” Jo was sliding out of her jeans, reaching for the little scrap of white fabric. “Just watch me, Soph. It’s my night. I can feel it!”

The Croisette beach was packed. It was a warm night, and the light breezes blowing in from the sea were pleasant; so were the scents coming from the local restaurants, all filled to overflowing. Cannes existed for the film festival, and did it magnificently. But Sophie was, if she admitted it to herself, looking forward to going home. She didn’t belong here; it was all butterflies, no moths allowed.

“Look!” Jo clutched on to her, teetering on her heels. “I think that’s him, Soph! I recognize him from the papers.”

Sophie looked. She couldn’t see much; there was a gaggle of blondes, giggling and mostly wearing nothing but swimsuits, clinging on to a man. He was pointing at a large, gorgeously equipped yacht, and several of the girls ran towards it.

“That’s the Natasha. That’s his boat! It’s seventy-five feet, at least.”

“It’s very nice.”

“Nice!” scoffed Jo. “D’you know how much money you need to run one of those things? He has servants. And a big castle near Paris, with peacocks on the grounds. He’s famous.”

“He’s coming this way,” Sophie said, timidly. She had a sudden urge to turn and run. Compared to the tiny scraps of nothing the other girls were wearing, even Joanna’s white baby doll dress looked dowdy. “Let’s go down and paddle in the foam.”

“Paddle nothing.”

“Jo—we’re going to look a bit silly . . . don’t you think?” Sophie ventured. But her friend ignored her.

“Oooh—isn’t he handsome.”