Outside, the sky loomed huge and spectacularly blue over the town of Arles, but in my head lay a darkness I couldn’t shift.

*

‘Eloïse.’

The voice stunned me. I whipped round.

‘Clarisse!’

My boss was sitting, legs elegantly crossed, at a pavement café I had just passed, wearing a st ylish lilac dress and ver y dark sunglasses. Cigarette in one hand, glass in the other, she looked like an exotic bird of paradise in a chicken coop. She was beaming at me, looking pleased with herself.

‘Clarisse, what on earth are you doing in Arles?’

‘I’ve been worried about you, so I popped down. God, you look grim, chérie, and what is that gruesome peasant attire you are wearing?’

I laughed and kissed her on both cheeks. ‘It’s so good to see you, boss.’

She swept me on to a chair next to hers and demanded an immediate coffee and cognac from an overawed waiter.

‘What the devil have you been doing down here, chérie? You look as if you haven’t slept since you left Paris.’

‘That’s because I’m missing being bossed around by you.’

She chuckled and a corner of it trickled into me, slowing my pulse.

‘You, on the other hand,’ I said, ‘are a treat to look at and I hope you aren’t rushing back to Paris. You can stay at the farm if you like.’

She pulled a horrified face, the kind of face that showed her age. ‘Eloïse, I would rather tear out my eyelashes than sleep with bulls.’ She fanned her cheeks with diva distress. ‘No, my sweet, I am booked into the Hôtel Jules César on Boulevard des Lices, so that I don’t have to step over cowpats at breakfast.’

My drink arrived. I skipped the coffee and went straight for the cognac. Clarisse watched me. When I replaced the empty glass, she nodded.

‘You needed that.’

‘I did.’

The heat inside helped. It steadied my hand. The amber liquid was melting the frozen image of the photographs spread out on the floor. My eyes scoured the street for a camera, but I saw none. That meant nothing.

‘A bit jumpy, chérie?’

‘What have you found out, Clarisse, that brings you scuttling down to the land of bulls and mosquitoes the size of a hand-grenade?’

She gave a mock shudder and drew hard on her cigarette. ‘I came to help you.’

‘I know,’ I said softly. ‘I’m grateful.’ I squeezed her hand because I knew she wouldn’t welcome the bear hug I was tempted to give her.

I rose to my feet as she stubbed out her cigarette. ‘Not here in the street,’ I said. ‘Let’s go to your hotel.’

*

‘I’ve done more digging,’ Clarisse announced.

‘By the look of that grin on your face, you hit paydirt.’

‘I don’t grin, chérie. I smile graciously.’

‘Tell me what you found.’