“Want to join me, chérie?” She gestured to the empty chair on the other side of her table.

“Don’t mind if I do.”

Lulu leaned forward. “Have you seen the new waiter?”

“Where?”

“Over there.” She pointed across to where a young man was laying cutlery on a neighboring table. He had broad shoulders and what looked like nicely muscled arms. His waist was narrow. His hair was slicked back with rather too much oil. Genevieve imagined it to be stubbornly curly, difficult to tame.

“Do you think he’s…?” Lulu gestured at the baguette being served on the table next to theirs.

Genevieve pursed her lips, then slowly shook her head. “I think he’s more…” and she pointed at Lulu’s éclair.

“Pity. Nice eyes, though.”

“So who’s the cake for? Camby?”

Lulu frowned. “Him? No. He’s back, as predicted. He seems to be all right, but he has no memory of Violetta or of where he’s been. Or so he claims. I’m too relieved to be angry.”

“And you love him. You always will. So if not for Camby, who’s that cake for?”

“It’s for us, Vivi. For you, my best friend. The girl who has always seen behind my makeup. I went and poisoned our friendship because I was jealous of you. And now there’s nothing I can do about it, no matter how sorry I am. What I did was unforgivable.”

“Let me be the judge of that.” Genevieve reached across to squeeze her hand.

Lulu peered hard at her. “Are you saying…?”

“I was jealous too, and secretive and mistrustful. I pushed you to it. We were meant to be friends, Lulu. Why else have we both turned up here this morning?”

“For cake! And buckets of coffee. You don’t believe in all that fate rubbish, do you, chérie? Don’t tell me you’re going all religious on me.” She was smiling all over her face.

“Well, it was you who said that men might come and go but best friends are forever. You said it the last time I saw you. Before you made your confession.”

Lulu stared at the mess of éclair on her plate. “I always confess. It’s my Catholic upbringing.”

Genevieve beckoned a waitress. “A Chocolat l’Africain, please. And a piece of that praline cake, and one of those pastries with the cream.”

“Two cakes?” Lulu frowned and tutted. “You will be enormously fat, chérie. You won’t be able to get through the door.”

“One for Paolo and one for Robert,” said Genevieve brightly. “I think that’s choux pastry, you know. How apt.”

“So it’s over with both of them? Was that completely intentional?”

“Not exactly. I was going away with Paolo. But it all went wrong.” She picked up a pencil that was lying on the table and started doodling on the back of the bill.