She checked her watch. Five twenty. Jack would be home after six. She looked at the sofa. The pains and aches were starting to take over. If she sat, she wasn’t sure she could get up again. A medicinal glass of wine might do the trick.

Gathering anything she might need: her laptop, phone and the remote control, she placed them all on the coffee table before fetching a large glass of wine and settling down onto the sofa, lifting one leg after the other and resting her head back on the cushion.

She took a mouthful of wine before opening her laptop. There was no need to check the local time. If Freya or Remi were available, they’d answer her Skype call no matter what time it was. Freya answered almost immediately.

‘Maman!’

She was lying on her bed, her hair in a ponytail, looking wonderful. Molly’s heart leapt. ‘Hello darling,’ she said, ‘what time is it there?’

‘Il est dix neuf heures, Maman,’ Freya replied.

Molly had enough schoolgirl French to understand that it was seven o’clock but she would be quickly out of her depth if her daughter continued to show off her language ability. ‘Everything okay?’

Luckily, excitement required her daughter to revert to English in order to perfectly explain what an amazing time she was having. Finally, she paused. ‘You don’t look too hot, Mum.’

Luckily, Molly had prepared an answer should either of her children enquire. ‘I’ve the flu,’ she said, ‘almost over it, actually, so nothing to worry about.’

‘Oh, that’s okay then. Look after yourself.’ Freya spoke to someone out of sight before turning back to Molly. ‘I have to go, Mum, we’re heading out for dinner.’

‘Have a good time, don’t forget to send a message every day so we know you’re okay.’

‘Mais oui, Maman,’ her irrepressible daughter said before the screen went dead.

Molly sat back with a satisfied smile on her lips. Freya looked good, her eyes were bright, her mouth always ready to curve in a smile. She was one of nature’s happy people; Molly would have liked to coddle her, to protect her from a world that didn’t necessarily treat people well. Instead, both she and Jack had encouraged her to follow her dreams to the Sorbonne.

There was no answer from Remi. Scrunching up her eyes, Molly tried to remember what time it was in Boston. Five or six hours behind. He was probably in class. She left a message asking him to Skype when he was free, adding that she was home all day with the flu. It made it simpler to tell the same lie to both children.

Remi, she guessed, would send a quick message rather than Skype. It was enough.