I looked at the box, then at Zozie. Still reeling from Thierry’s visit, Roux’s reappearance and the complications that I knew it would bring, the unexpected kindness of the simple gesture left me suddenly close to tears.

‘You didn’t have to do that, Zozie.’

‘Don’t be silly. I like it.’ She looked at me closely. ‘Is anything wrong?’

‘Oh, it’s Thierry.’ I tried to smile. ‘He’s been acting strangely these past few days.’

She shrugged. ‘I’m not surprised,’ she said. ‘You’re doing well. Business is good. At last things are looking up for you.’

I frowned at her. ‘What do you mean?’

‘What I mean,’ said Zozie patiently, ‘is that Thierry still wants to be Santa Claus and Prince Charming and Good King Wenceslas all rolled into one. It was fine while you were struggling – he bought you dinner, dressed you up, showered you with presents – but you’re different now. You don’t need saving any more. Someone took away his Cinderella doll and put a real live girl there instead, and he’s having trouble coping with it.’

‘Thierry’s not like that,’ I said.

‘Isn’t he?’

‘Well . . .’ I grinned. ‘Maybe a bit.’

She laughed at that, and I laughed with her, though I couldn’t help feeling a little abashed. Zozie is very observant, of course. But shouldn’t I have seen those things myself?

Zozie opened the cardboard box.

‘Why not take it easy today? Have a lie-down. Play with Rosette. Don’t worry. If he comes, I’ll call.’

That startled me. ‘If who comes?’ I said.

‘Oh, really, Vianne—’

‘Don’t call me that!’

She grinned. ‘Well, Roux, of course. Who did you think I meant, the Pope?’

I gave a wan smile. ‘He won’t come today.’

‘What makes you so sure?’

So I told her what Thierry had said: about the flat, and how determined he was to see us there by Christmas, and about the plane tickets to New York, and how he’d offered Roux a job at Rue de la Croix—

Zozie looked surprised at that. ‘He has?’ she said. ‘Well, if Roux takes it, he must need the money. I can’t see him doing it for love.’

I shook my head. ‘What a mess,’ I said. ‘Why didn’t he say he was coming here? I would have handled it differently. At least I would have been prepared—’

Zozie sat down at the kitchen table. ‘He’s Rosette’s father, isn’t he?’

I didn’t say anything, but turned to switch on the ovens. I was planning a batch of gingerbread biscuits, the sort you hang on the Christmas tree; gilded and iced and tied with coloured ribbon—

‘Of course, it’s your business,’ Zozie went on. ‘Does Annie know?’

I shook my head.

‘Does anyone know? Does Roux know?’