I was only aware of Russ’s job in the vaguest terms: something high-powered to do with hedge funds and currencies and city trading. I knew it involved lots of money, but none of the detail.

Rowan’s phone beeped with a message and she checked the display.

‘Mummy! Pick me up again!’ Odette was still pulling at her mother’s dress, leaving little sweaty hand marks on the beautiful fabric.

Rowan began typing a rapid reply on the phone’s screen with her thumbs.

‘Why don’t you . . . go and see what Daddy’s doing?’

‘No!’ Odette stamped a pink-sandalled foot on the stone floor, her cherubic little face screwing up. ‘Pick me up!’

‘Mummy’s arm is getting tired.’ She continued typing.

‘Mummy!’

‘Just a minute, darling,’ Rowan said, moving back into the house and the vast living area.

Odette shouted one last time and then ran into the house after her mother, her long ginger bunches bouncing with an angry rhythm.

I had to suppress a smile at her display of temper. Odette had thrown the most incredible tantrums from before she could walk, and she didn’t show any sign of stopping. If anything, it seemed her outbursts were getting worse the older she got.

My own daughter wandered out onto the balcony, phone in hand, yawning and stretching.

‘You’re awake!’ I said. ‘Oh, Lucy, come here and look at this amazing view. Isn’t it incredible?’

She came to stand next to me, glancing at the landscape for perhaps a second.

‘Cool,’ she said, turning to me. ‘Have you got the Wi-Fi password?’

Chapter 3

3

There were ten bedrooms, split between the ground and first floors. Ours was off the first-floor landing, with a creamy marble floor and antique wooden furniture, gauzy mosquito nets tied at each corner of the four-poster bed. Sean heaved our suitcases up onto the bed and we began to unpack.

Daniel appeared in his swimming shorts, all skinny legs and arms and pale English skin. ‘I’m ready!’ He put his goggles over his eyes and gave us a double thumbs-up. ‘Are you ready for the pool, Dad?’

Sean smiled, shaking his head. ‘Not quite.’

‘I want to be the first in!’

‘J’ai presque fini,’ Sean said, putting a stack of T-shirts into the chest of drawers.

‘Eh?’

‘It’s French for “I’m nearly ready”.’

‘Hang on, they speak French here?’

Lucy leaned on the door frame, arms crossed. ‘Duh,’ she said. ‘That’s why it’s called France?’

Daniel pulled a face. ‘I can’t really do French. Can you, Dad?’

‘Sure and us Irish have always had a lot in common with our French brothers and sisters.’

‘Like what?’

‘Neither of us can stand the English.’

I threw a towel at him.

‘Just kidding,’ he said, catching it against his chest.