‘Arrête, arrête!’ Léa shouts, fingers in her ears, but Luca cries even harder.

I get off the wall and go to comfort Luca with the remaining bit of my own sandwich, but he continues to look at the duck and cry.

‘Life doesn’t always do the way you want,’ Léa says to her brother with a glint in her eye, and I raise my eyebrows, pleased but also perturbed that I’ve taught her such a phrase.

‘Turn out the way you want.’ She may as well get it right.

I pick Luca off the wall. ‘Come on, let’s go home.’

I let us into the house and Léa runs to the living room and throws open the terrace door. ‘Salut, Maria!’ she yells as she dashes past the kitchen.

Maria calls something after them in French and I pick out the word glace. I hear ‘Oui!’ from the garden and the sound of splashing water. They’re already in the paddling pool.

‘S’il te plaît!’ Maria calls back, her pleading for politeness falling on deaf ears. She pulls a tub of chocolate ice cream out of the freezer and gestures towards me. ‘You want?’

‘No, thank you. Merci,’ I say. Given Maria is from Spain, maybe I should have said gracias. Not that I’d get any further in Spanish than in French, so I’m forced to demonstrate that fact by conversing in English to a Spaniard who has never visited England and yet still manages to speak my language far, far better than I could ever speak hers. If I’d grown up here, I could be like Julia and Michel, speaking two or three languages as though it was the most natural thing in the world. Instead I grew up in a country that doesn’t promote language learning and expects the rest of the world to compensate for that. Out here, I’m quickly realising just how embarrassing that is.

I deliver ice cream to the kids, making a mental note to clean up the inevitable mess before Julia gets home, then I return to the kitchen where Maria is chopping vegetables for the evening meal. I offer to help but she won’t hear of it. I’m the teacher and nanny, she’s the cleaner and occasional cook, and our roles don’t overlap. I can just hear Patrick taking the piss out of this whole set-up, and me, for being part of it. The thought makes me smile and I long to pick up the phone and tell him about it, though I know I shouldn’t. Despite what he did, he’s still the person I want to tell everything to.