‘Probably, but I don’t care. This is the happiest I’ve felt for ages.’

‘You look it.’ The furrow between Andy’s eyes had all but disappeared, and he looked carefree, elated, boyish even. ‘I know how much of a strain the last few months have been for you. I’m so sorry I haven’t been more supportive.’

‘I’ve told you, Belles, you can stop apologizing.’ He leant over to kiss her again.

Notre Dame was coming into view now, on the Île de la Cité, in the middle of the river.

‘We should really go and have a look,’ said Bella. As soon as the words had left her mouth, they both shook their heads, laughing.

‘Noooo. Let’s leave all the cultural stuff till tomorrow,’ said Andy.

‘But we could stop there,’ said Bella, pointing with delight at an exquisitely pretty, colourfully painted boat, whose flower-strewn deck was dotted with little round wooden tables. Hanging plants trailed down the boat’s side, over the rails. ‘It’s got a bar on it!’

‘Now you’re talking!’

And with almost indecent haste they raced up the gangplank.

The view from the deck, directly over to Notre Dame on its leafy island, was stunning; in the other direction you could see hordes of people swarming over the bridge that led to it. The sun was just starting to set and the river taking on hues of pinky gold.

The trendy, friendly waitress brought them cocktail menus, and they looked at each other and laughed.

‘Cocktails?’

‘I suppose it is nearly cocktail hour,’ said Andy. ‘We should probably have a snack of some sort though, or we’ll be absolutely paralytic even before we get to dinner.’

‘Plate of charcuterie?’

‘Perfect. Margaritas?’

‘I think we may be starting to read each other’s minds.’

The boat, which, due to its location, could easily be a tourist-trap hellhole, actually seemed to be a hang-out for bohemian, very Left Bank-looking Parisians.

‘Looks like we’ve stumbled on a hidden gem,’ said Bella. ‘Shame there’s nothing like this on the Thames.’

‘Yes, it’s hardly the Tattershall Castle.’ Andy was referring to the huge pub-on-a-boat located between Embankment and Temple Tube stations that became almost unbearably crowded with beer-swilling office workers the very moment the sun shone its weakest light on London.

One of the Bateaux Mouches motored past them and all its passengers waved cheerfully at Bella and Andy. They waved back, raising their drinks at them, beaming from ear to ear.

Bella, mindful of how ‘très, très jolie’ she was looking, and not feeling fat for the first time in months, felt as though she were starring in her own romantic movie.

‘Right, darling, there’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about, and this seems as good a time as any,’ said Andy.

‘What? What is it?’ Bella asked, panicking. Surely this wasn’t the time to be breaking some horrible news to her?

‘Don’t look so worried. I think you may actually be quite pleased, but it will affect us both, so I want to run it past you before I go ahead with it.’