After the chase this morning, they had seen no further sign of their pursuers. Aside from a brief conversation back at the rented farmhouse, in which Kate had said she couldn’t think of any reason why anyone should be following them, they’d all seemed to push it to the back of their minds, perhaps because the fear of slipping into the past was too much for any of them to deal with.

Only Kate remained firmly on guard. She tried to relax as she witnessed the pleasure the rest of the family took in each other’s company. She didn’t like Stuart’s goatee beard, or his attempt to relive his youth in tight T-shirts and jeans – he had clearly been working out in Moscow, if nothing else, while exiled there – but even she’d found herself laughing at some of his appallingly unfunny jokes, and his determination to be on good form was infectious. She realized she felt better than she had in months.

She could see, though, that Fiona and Gus considered this day as a curtain-raiser on a future longed-for reunion that must surely now be imminent. And Kate already dreaded the return journey, during which she would have to explain once again that their father’s betrayal of his family and his country still made any rapprochement a remote possibility.

Kate reached for the bill. Stuart, normally so quick to pay for everything in the past – their marriage had been curiously old-fashioned in that respect – looked sheepish. They both knew he didn’t have the means to pay for anything at all, these days. Kate was even coughing up for the farmhouse.

‘Thanks so much, Kate,’ he said.

‘It’s a pleasure,’ she replied, with as much sincerity as she could muster.

They tipped out of the restaurant and piled into the car. Kate let Gus sit in front beside his father, who shouldn’t really have been in the driver’s seat. But that was perhaps the least of their problems. She tried to keep her survey of the car park discreet. There was no sign of the black Golf, or any other vehicle that might have been ready to follow them.

‘Cool place,’ Gus said.

‘Nice food,’ Fiona added, without catching her mother’s eye.

‘Would we be able to go to school here?’ Gus asked.

‘Depends if you want to start speaking French,’ Stuart said. ‘Though I guess it would help in the next lift-queue bust-up.’

‘They have international schools, don’t they?’ Fiona asked.

‘I think they possibly do in Bordeaux. I haven’t looked into it yet, but I will.’

Stuart glanced over his shoulder. Perhaps he was looking for some sign of approval from his wife. Kate kept her counsel. She was far from ready to contemplate moving here to begin life again with her former husband. Not many people managed to betray their wife, their family and their country, and she was a long way from forgiveness.

Conversation dwindled, until it was drowned by the steady hum of the cicadas through the open windows.