At the end of the villa’s tree-lined gravel drive I turned right and headed along the narrow road towards Autignac. It was still early, but the sun was already high in the cloudless sky, beating down with a relentless heat that half-blinded me as I ran. In my rush, I’d forgotten to bring my sunglasses and had to squint as I jogged along the road that ran along the boundary of the estate, trying to get a rhythm going in limbs still stiff and heavy with sleep. The air was thick with humidity and I’d barely made it past the end of the tall white stone wall when I felt the first sweat under my arms and at the back of my neck.

Sometimes Sean and I ran together – in the beginning, anyway – after we had caught the running bug and had opportunities when the kids wouldn’t be home alone. But then he’d started training for half-marathons, running late into the evening after Daniel had gone to bed, when all I wanted to do was put my dressing gown on and wind down with a bit of TV. In any case, he was too quick for me, and I usually felt like I was holding him back.

Was that what I was doing now? Holding him back? And what was I supposed to do if I ran around a bend in the road here and found them strolling arm in arm, hip to hip? Or sitting on a bench, sharing a stolen kiss? I knew what I had to do – force it out of them right there by the roadside, get them to admit what was going on, confess.

I ran on.

By the time I reached the village, my T-shirt was stuck to my back with sweat and I was breathing hard in the clammy heat. The square was quiet, just a couple of elderly women gossiping outside the boulangerie, a handful of others enjoying an early coffee in the shade of the town hall. No sign of Sean and Jennifer. I looped around the far side of the village, beyond the main square, coming back around and rejoining the little road that led up to the villa.

Halfway up the little hill at the back of the house, my legs got so heavy I had to stop for a minute, standing at the side of the road, hands on my hips. The trees were thick here, oak and pine and olive trees, with the white of the villa walls just visible above me at the prow of the hill. I walked the rest of the way.

Sean was in the kitchen when I got back, unloading bags of baguettes, croissants, macaroons and pastries from three bulging shopping bags. Jennifer stood next to him, busying herself with the coffee machine. She looked cool and composed in white culottes and a pale-pink vest top, straw hat still on her head.