After ten miles or so, Google Maps directed us off the main road and up through one tiny hamlet after another. Puimisson, St Genies, Cabrerolles – sleepy villages of narrow streets and ancient stone, old men sitting impassively in the shade watching us pass by. We peeled off onto an even smaller road that climbed higher, winding back and forth up a hill where the vineyards gave way to dark pine trees, finally emerging onto the crest of a hill above the village of Autignac, a tall, whitewashed wall flanking the road. The wall ended in black metal gates tipped with faux spear points and my phone informed us that we had arrived at our destination.

Sean slowed the car to turn in and the black metal gates swung noiselessly open. Gravel crunched softly beneath the wheels as we turned onto the estate and headed for the villa, tall cypress trees, slim and straight and perfectly pruned, lining the long driveway like a guard of honour. On both sides were lush lawns of thick green grass, watered by sprinklers circling lazily in the mid-afternoon heat.

Sean pulled up next to Rowan’s Land Rover Discovery, already parked in front of the villa’s sweeping stone staircase.

I turned in my seat. Lucy was still asleep in the back, head tucked into her balled-up sweatshirt, long blonde hair falling across her face. Since hitting her teens she seemed able to sleep anywhere, at any time of the day, if she sat down for more than ten minutes: she had slept on the way to the airport, and on the plane, and was fast asleep now. I had always loved watching her sleep, right from when she was a baby. She would always be my baby, even though she was sixteen now – and taller than me.

‘Lucy, love,’ I said, softly. ‘We’re here.’

She didn’t stir.

Her younger brother, Daniel, sat next to her, headphones on, absorbed in a game of something on his mobile. He was her opposite in many respects – a little ball of energy who had never been keen on sleep, either as a newborn or now, an excitable nine-year-old. He uncovered one ear and took his first look out of the window.

‘Are we there?’

‘Give your sister a nudge,’ I said. ‘Gently.’

He grinned mischievously and poked her arm.

‘We’re here, Sleeping Beauty. At the holiday house.’

When she gave no response, Sean unclipped his seatbelt.

‘Might as well let her have another five minutes while we take the bags in. Come on.’