Divorce, sleeplessness, childlessness, weariness of working as an interpreter all played a part. But the reasons why they pushed Laure to action at that moment were too deeply buried for her to be exact. All she knew was they had rubbed against each other – wire wool on an encrusted fire grate – and produced a shiny idea.

She concentrated on the practical details. ‘Once I had the idea and found the house, I buttonholed the bank and borrowed as much as I could, bought it and restored it. I hired a publicity agent to create a buzz about the museum and I applied to Nos Arts de France for funding which I was granted on an annual basis. Not so very remarkable. Just business.’

May took down notes. ‘Can you give numbers?’

‘Sorry, confidential. I never knew from one year to the next if money was forthcoming. We had five years of steadily improving footfall which was so good and kept me going. Then, Nos Arts informed me that an anonymous sponsor wished to take on the funding for a further five years and what’s more he or she was giving enough money to pay for the entire operation.’

Simon had rung to tell her. ‘What’s your magic, girl? Whatever it is, I’ll have some of it.’ He waited until her cries of ‘it can’t be true’ had died away before saying, ‘This is a big achievement, Laure. Few have managed it.’

Describing the moment could not possibly convey the satisfaction, the sense that something had, after all, arrived at completion. ‘It was quite a day when you’re told there’s a staggering sum on which to call. We had got there. It was working.’

May scented blood. ‘You’ve no idea who it might be? Or why they did it?’

‘We’ve hit a moment of change, I think. The museum is seen as fresh and anti-establishment. It offers an invitation to many who would normally feel excluded, who perhaps don’t go to museums. It can step over boundaries that other museums have to observe.’

‘Except you monitor the acquisitions.’

‘I do everything in my power to keep an open mind. There’re things in the museum that would never see the light of day in the established institutions. Nor would their stories.’

‘Fair enough.’ May fiddled with her recorder. ‘And the Maison de Grasse?’

‘That will dovetail well. The firm services the mass market—’

‘Those masses that can afford their quite pricey products,’ May opened up her notebook and tapped into it. ‘Paying… yes, fifty euros for a scented candle as it’s advertised here is probably not top of the list for most.’

‘But their floor cleaner is,’ countered Laure. ‘The trustees tell me they are delighted by the association. Remember, they’re not doing the funding, but providing patronage.’

‘What did you feel when it all took off?’

‘Very good.’

‘Just good? Weren’t you over the moon? Praising Jesus?’