Breakfast had been every bit as lavish and glorious as Ashley had imagined it would be. By now she had realised that, despite her very advanced years, Madame Dupont was still a gregarious and welcoming host with plenty of family members willing to pitch in and help cater for the houseful she now had under her roof. The meal featured fresh bread and croissants with lashings of creamy butter and tart preserves; fruit and cheese and cured meats; hot, bitter coffee by the bucketload and juice squeezed straight from locally picked fruit. Ashley couldn’t imagine a hotel where she’d have had better food or facilities and certainly not better company. By now the table in the kitchen had fourteen family members seated around it and more were expected to arrive during the next couple of days. The family house was big, but still Ashley had to wonder where all the extra people were going to sleep, until Maurice explained that friends in the area were going to put up the latecomers so they would probably only see them at odd mealtimes and on the day of the big party.

‘So…’ Ashley flopped onto the swing seat in the garden, full to bursting with breakfast as Molly settled beside her and began to push them into a gentle rock to and fro that was easily relaxing enough to make Ashley want to snooze. But she fought the silky, tempting veil of sleep stealing over her and forced herself to pay attention to Molly. There weren’t going to be many opportunities to holiday like this, certainly not in the foreseeable future, so they were going to make the most of every second the day offered. She could sleep at home and if there was a way she could have staved off sleep for this whole week in France she probably would have done. ‘What shall we do today? Explore? Beach or town? Or…’ she said, waggling her eyebrows, ‘do you have plans with a certain handsome boy named Bastien?’

‘Shush, he’ll hear you!’ Molly hissed.

Ashley let out a lazy giggle. ‘Don’t be so paranoid. So you do like him?’

‘I guess…’ Molly said, glancing towards the open windows of the house. ‘But, you know…’

‘What?’

‘He’s French.’

‘And?’

‘Well there’s no point because I’ll never see him again after this week, will I?’

Ashley had to admit that Molly had a point there, and she was pleased to see that, despite the teasing, her daughter was being very mature. Certainly more mature than she herself had been when faced with the same temptation on her first trip abroad. But she tried not to think about that now. She had been a little older if no wiser, alcohol had been involved and Molly was a very different girl than she had been. Molly had grown up with the sorts of responsibilities that Ashley had never been exposed to at her age, and it had made her more measured, more level-headed. She’d learned the limits of their daily lives at an early age and Ashley had been careful to drill her in the importance of working hard to achieve her goals so that she might have a fighting chance of the life she’d missed out on. Sometimes she wondered, however, if she’d drilled those ethics in just a little too deep – often she felt that Molly worked too hard and wasn’t a normal, carefree teenager as frequently as she ought to be.

‘So if you don’t have plans, how about we make some?’ Ashley asked.

‘I thought we might go to the old town. Maurice says Victor Hugo used to live there and I can see his house.’

‘Victor Hugo?’ Ashley shook her head.

‘He wrote Les Misérables,’ Molly said.

‘And you’ve read that?’

‘No, not exactly…’ Molly gave a sheepish smile. ‘But I have seen the musical on DVD about a million times.’

‘Oh…’ Ashley grinned. ‘That’s the film full of wailing with the really hot guy in it?’

‘It’s not wailing, it’s singing!’ Molly said, more than a touch of indignation in her tone, and Ashley had to laugh again.

‘I’m just winding you up. Though give me a Take That album any day.’

‘Honestly, Mum. Have I managed to teach you nothing about real music?’

‘It is real music. Just not your sort of music.’

‘Hmm…’ Molly bit back a grin. Spirits were high, and Ashley was pretty sure nothing was going to dampen them if even her musical disagreements with Molly (and music was life or death as far as Molly was concerned) failed to irritate.

‘So you want to go to the old town. We could do that. Your grandma says there’s a market on daily and it might be nice to have a mooch around. I think there are some museums and stuff thereabouts—’

‘An archaeology museum,’ Molly cut in. ‘Apparently Saint-Raphaël has been a holiday town as far back as the Romans.’

‘Wow, you’ve been doing your research.’

‘Bastien told me yesterday.’

‘Ah…’ Ashley nodded sagely and thought it best to leave ribbing about Bastien for now.

‘He says there’s a photography exhibition in the Jardin Bonaparte too and if you go to the top of the tower at the church you can see all of Saint-Raphaël.’

‘Did he? He’s very useful to know.’

‘I suppose everyone else could have told us the same if we’d asked.’

‘Lucky you thought to ask then. So you’re happy with that plan?’

‘Sure.’

‘Maybe we can even grab lunch somewhere too.’

‘Not here?’ Molly asked.

Ashley gave a half-smile. Despite all protestations, there was probably a very good reason Molly wanted to get back for lunch, and his name began with B.

‘We could come back to eat if you really want to.’

‘I don’t think it’s that far to walk and the exercise will do us good. Maybe later we can go down to the beach. Bastien says there’s windsurfing down there.’

‘Well, Bastien can take you windsurfing, because there’s no way I’ll be doing that.’

‘You might like it if you give it a try.’

‘I might be in the sea more than I’m on it too. It’ll be a total waste of money for someone as clumsy as me. But if you want to try it, don’t let me stop you. I’m sure someone will take you.’

‘What about something else? Scuba diving or something?’

‘God, no! Are you trying to bump me off? I wouldn’t last two seconds doing anything like that. Sorry, Moll, but you’re going to have to get adventurous with someone else.’

Molly nodded, but Ashley couldn’t help feeling she looked disappointed.

‘I’ll think about it,’ Ashley said. ‘But I can’t promise that I’ll suddenly develop a brave gene. Let’s go to town first and see what this afternoon brings, OK?’

‘OK.’ Molly leapt up from the seat, setting it swinging madly. ‘I’ll get my shoes on.’

‘I don’t suppose we can get cornflakes anywhere?’ Ella prodded the bread roll Haydon had put in front of her for breakfast. Buttermilk light flooded the warmly furnished kitchen and the terracotta floor was cool beneath Haydon’s bare feet as he sipped a black coffee that chased away any last vestiges of tiredness. His hair was still sticking up from bed and he hadn’t yet brushed his teeth but, from the looks of things, Ella had been up for ages and had quietly gone about her morning dress routine as he slept.

‘I know it’s not what you’d normally eat, but I clean forgot I’d have to shop for breakfast before we settled down last night. Can you manage for now with what Bryn has left for us and we’ll try to find a shop or market to get supplies for later?’

‘He only left wine and bread.’

‘He left a little more than that. Besides, it’s a continental breakfast… almost. Bread is what kids here eat for breakfast.’

‘I bet they don’t have it dry with some mouldy cheese.’

‘I bet they do. They love mouldy cheese here. Eat it morning, noon and night. Decorate their houses with it, bathe in it, put it in their hair, drive around in hollowed-out mouldy cheeses with mouldy cheese wheels…’

Ella giggled. ‘OK, I’ll eat the bread but I don’t want the cheese. The deal is you get me ice cream instead.’

‘For breakfast?’

She nodded. ‘As soon as you’re dressed that’s our first stop – the nearest ice-cream place.’

‘I suppose we are on holiday. Don’t tell your mother, though.’

‘She had champagne for breakfast in Mexico. In bed. With strawberries and chocolate. Kevin ate it with her.’

Haydon swallowed hard. ‘And what did you have?’

Ella shrugged. ‘Cornflakes.’

Haydon gave her a small smile and smoothed a lock of hair from her face. It sounded like Janine and Kevin had treated their previous holiday like a honeymoon rather than a family trip. He wondered whether Ella had felt like a spare part at times. He was determined she wouldn’t feel like that on their holiday.

‘What do you want to do today? After we get food, that is.’

‘I don’t mind,’ Ella said, nibbling the end of her bread roll. ‘What is there?’

‘I’ve been reading the guidebook. There’s the beach, of course, the old town and market and the harbour. Or we could stay here and make the most of the pool. Maybe go hunting for Frank to say hello…’

Ella nibbled her thumbnail. ‘Well, we have to go to the town to get food so we’re ticking that off the list anyway. So maybe the beach. Is there stuff to do?’

Haydon rolled his eyes. ‘There’s sand and sea – what more do you want from the beach?’

‘I don’t know… maybe pedalos or something. Kevin went paragliding in Mexico. I was too scared so I stayed with Mum, but if you were with me maybe I wouldn’t be so scared this time.’

‘You want to go paragliding?’ Haydon sat back and appraised his daughter. ‘Well, didn’t see that coming. I thought maybe we’d buy a bucket and go poking about in rock pools or something.’

‘I didn’t exactly say I wanted to go. I just meant that if you wanted to do something exciting I’d go with you.’

Haydon sighed to himself. Sometimes trying to understand Ella was like trying to make sense of quantum physics. He clapped his hands together decisively.

‘So, town first, then I’m afraid we’ll have to bring our bits and pieces straight back so they don’t get ruined in the heat. Maybe, in that case, we should have a bit of lunch here and then head back down to the sea. It’s not far to walk – at least, Bryn promised me it wouldn’t be.’

‘And check out the house across the fields, don’t forget.’

‘Oh, the mysterious pink house! I’d forgotten about that. We’ll walk that way and try to look inconspicuous while we nosey. But if they chase us off it’s every man for himself!’

‘Dad…’ Ella giggled.

‘What? I’m being serious.’

Ella dumped half her roll onto the plate. ‘I’m done.’

‘You’ve barely touched it. I spent hours preparing this sumptuous breakfast feast and this is the thanks I get?’

‘We can throw it out for the birds.’

‘Throw it out for the birds?’

‘OK,’ Ella said, backtracking quickly, ‘maybe save it for supper. I just want to leave room for my ice cream. You promised.’

He downed the rest of his coffee and pushed his chair from the table. Ella wouldn’t have got away with demands like this at any other time, but he was feeling so relaxed and content that, just this once, she could get away with whatever she wanted. Perhaps she could sense as much and that was the reason she was trying.

‘I’ll get my shoes on and then ice cream it is.’

Ashley and Molly made their way through the streets of the old town. The bells of the stone church rang out, and Ashley checked her watch.

‘Ten. Do you think it’s too early for coffee and cake?’

Molly grinned. ‘We’ve literally just eaten breakfast.’

‘I know, but all these cafés look so lovely I want to try them all and we’ve only got a week.’

‘Six days now,’ Molly reminded her.

‘Exactly.’

‘Show some restraint, Mother.’

Ashley laughed. ‘Yes, daughter. What’s your plan then?’

‘We go to the market and Place Victor Hugo first, and then maybe we can get something. But you don’t want to ruin lunch, and it sounds like Madame Dupont has big plans for that. I heard her giving Nanette a huge list of stuff to go and buy.’

‘We could have fetched it for her – we’re in the market anyway,’ Ashley said with a vague frown.

‘She probably didn’t want to ask us because we’re on holiday and we’re guests. Nanette is family so she can boss her around more.’

‘I bet she gives them all a run for their money does Madame Dupont. She’s a wily old bird.’

‘I think she’s cute.’

‘Oh, she’s lovely. But I bet there’s an iron constitution beneath that wrinkled old-lady exterior. You don’t get to a hundred without a little toughness.’

Molly checked a map on her phone and then pointed to a paved street on the left flanked by palm trees and shop fronts.

‘I think it’s this way.’

‘Ten past ten.’ Haydon looked at his watch. ‘Didn’t take us too long to walk down here in the end, did it?’

‘It felt like hours,’ Ella said.

Ignoring her, Haydon stopped and surveyed the road ahead. ‘So this must be the old town. I was reading that loads of famous authors have lived here in the past. There’s even a Place Victor Hugo.’

‘Does it have an ice-cream parlour? Because unless it does I don’t care who lived in it.’

‘I don’t know if he lived at Place Victor Hugo – it’s just named after him.’

‘Why?’

‘I suppose because he wrote brilliant books.’

‘Like what?’

‘Like The Hunchback of Notre Dame.’

‘The Disney film?’

‘No.’ Haydon smiled. ‘I think his book came a little bit before the Disney film but that’s where they took the story from. He wrote Les Misérables too.’

‘I know that,’ Ella said, perking up.

‘Of course you do. I bet you’ve played stuff from the musical version at piano lessons.’

‘Yeah.’

‘So you want to go and check it out?’

‘Can we get ice cream first?’

Haydon wrinkled his nose. ‘Maybe, but I’m starving because breakfast was crap.’

‘You said everyone eats bread for breakfast!’

‘Yeah, I lied.’ Haydon grinned. ‘So how about breakfast in the market? There must be somewhere that serves pastries or croissants or something. Then we’ll get the shopping, and then we’ll get the ice cream.’

‘But you said…’

‘I know. Ice cream after, promise. I wouldn’t dare deprive you.’

Ella let out a sigh. ‘Alright. I suppose we could get breakfast first.’

‘So we’ll head for the market and if we see somewhere that looks nice we’ll stop for a bite to eat.’

‘Yes.’

Haydon scratched his head as he surveyed the streets. His attention turned to a street on his left. It was paved in slick grey stones, worn smooth by decades of footfall, and palm trees ran in neat rows along both sides.

‘This looks promising.’ He looked down at Ella. ‘Let’s go that way and see where it takes us.’

‘These look gorgeous!’ Ashley lifted a bunch of ruby grapes from a mound at the fruit stall and shook them at Molly. ‘I could eat these in one go and I bet they’re as fresh as it gets.’

‘Very fresh,’ the stallholder cut in, smiling. ‘Grown very close by.’

Ashley blushed and placed the bunch back on the display. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean…’

‘No, no… you taste,’ the man said, gesturing to the grapes. ‘It’s no problem.’

‘I don’t really need to buy them…’

‘We could buy some for Madame Dupont,’ Molly said, nudging Ashley. ‘I bet she’d be chuffed to bits.’

‘Violette Dupont?’ the stallholder asked. ‘At Villa Marguerite?’

‘Well, yes,’ Ashley replied. ‘We’re staying with her. She’s my stepfather’s aunt. You know her?’

‘But of course!’ The man bagged up a pile of grapes along with a pot of mixed olives and a handful of almonds as Ashley and Molly watched with vague frowns. ‘You take these for her,’ he said. ‘No charge. She is very good and old friend; these are her favourites.’

‘That’s very kind.’ Ashley took the carrier bag from him.

‘And for you?’ he asked.

‘Us?’

‘You like grapes? Here…’ He pressed another paper bag containing a smaller bunch into her hand. ‘No charge. You try them, you will come for more, I guarantee.’

‘Wow, thank you!’ Ashley smiled.

The man gave a little nod. ‘You are welcome. Tell Violette I wish her well for her birthday.’

‘We will,’ Molly said.

The man waved them off as they left his stall and continued on their perusal of the market.

‘Wow, he was lovely,’ Ashley said.

‘Perhaps him and Violette had a thing once. He looks about the right age,’ Molly said with a wicked grin. She pointed to a stall loaded with glistening pastries. ‘Fancy a nosey at the less healthy options?’

‘What was that about spoiling our lunch?’ Ashley asked with a sideways look.

‘Right…’ Haydon clapped his hands together as he surveyed the market square where canopied stalls stood on the gleaming cobbles, stocking everything from stuffed toys to locally made wine. ‘Supplies. What shall we get first?’

A fruit stall caught his eye, where a trader was lazily wafting a wasp from a mound of juicy-looking nectarines. The movement almost looked too smooth and swift for a man who seemed to be way past retirement age, but it wasn’t a great leap of the imagination to wonder if life in such a pleasant climate, minus traffic fumes and stress and all the other things that characterised Haydon’s own life back in England, was a good prescription for a healthy old age.

‘I suppose I’d better get you some of the good stuff. Just so we can say so to your mum when she asks what I’ve been feeding you on all week. I know she expects me to answer with Toblerones and hamburgers so let’s impress her, eh?’

‘I like fruit.’

‘I know, but we’re on holiday – I thought you might decide fruit was too boring on holiday.’

Ella shrugged. ‘It looks nice.’

‘I know what you mean. Everything somehow looks better and tastier when it’s displayed out here in the sunshine rather than in a dingy supermarket back home.’

They began to make their way over. ‘So what do you fancy?’ he asked as they walked.

‘Bonjour,’ the stallholder greeted them. ‘Ca va?’

‘Bonjour, bien, merci,’ Haydon replied uncertainly, and clearly the vendor recognised the accent immediately as he made a smooth switch to perfect English.

‘You are on holiday?’

‘Yes,’ Haydon replied with a degree of relief that he wouldn’t have to continue in French. His command of the language wasn’t too bad, but he’d had practically no cause to recall any of it for a great many years and he wasn’t sure just how much he’d be able to remember under the pressure of having to. ‘Just arrived yesterday.’

‘You are staying at the hotel?’

‘No, at a villa – hence the need to buy lots of food. I’m afraid we’re not very well prepared.’

The man laughed. ‘Plenty of food here and we will all be happy to take your euros!’

Haydon smiled. ‘I’m sure.’

The old man looked at Ella. ‘Bonjour, Mademoiselle. What would you like?’ He handed her a purple grape the size of her thumb. ‘You like grapes? You try this and tell your papa if you want to buy.’

Ella took it and glanced at Haydon, who gave a tiny nod before she popped it into her mouth.

‘It’s lovely,’ she said, but Haydon wondered if she was saying that just to please the old man or whether she really meant it. But the grapes looked pretty good and they’d doubtless eat them if he bought some.

‘I’ll take that bunch,’ he said, pointing. ‘And perhaps some apples?’ he added, looking at Ella, who nodded.

‘Peaches too,’ Ella said. ‘And strawberries…’

The stallholder chuckled. ‘You like the fruit?’

‘Yes,’ Ella said, her smile suddenly shy as Haydon paid for their shopping.

The old man waved them off as they left his stall, and Haydon’s attention turned to one piled with bread and pastries of all kinds. The vendor there was just bidding farewell in English to a woman and a girl who was already tucking into a croissant from a paper bag as Haydon and Ella arrived so it was another easy interaction if he shopped here for their bread. For a moment Haydon’s attention was caught by them and he stared after the pair as they walked away. Did he know the woman from somewhere? He shook his head slightly. Perhaps it was one of his ex-pupils? Whoever it was, they were already disappearing into the crowds of the market, and to chase down someone that he may or may not know seemed a little crazy, so he let the notion drop and fixed a smile on Ella again.

‘Look at all this cake,’ he said, nodding at the stall as the woman who ran it greeted them with a warm smile. ‘Now we can really spend some money!’

‘Bonjour, Monsieur,’ the stallholder said. ‘Can I help you?’ She pushed a strand of hair the colour of nutmeg away from her face and smiled as she smoothed it behind an ear. For the first time he was able to see her properly, and Haydon stopped and stared. And then he realised he was staring as he gave a hasty reply.

‘Um… we’re not sure what we want yet.’

‘Take your time,’ she said. And Haydon found himself staring again, despite trying so hard not to. Her long hair was tied back in a loose knot at the nape of her neck, her eyes were a startling green and her skin was the colour of warm caramel. Her limbs were slender and she wore her simple white T-shirt and capri pants with elegant ease. Haydon tore away his gaze and turned to see that even Ella was looking at the stallholder with awe.

‘You are on vacation?’ the woman asked.

‘Yes, arrived yesterday.’

‘You like Saint-Raphaël so far?’

‘It’s lovely,’ Ella said. ‘Though we haven’t seen much of it yet.’

‘Breakfast first,’ Haydon said, sinking his hands into his pockets in a bid to look casual. ‘You live here?’

She shook her head. ‘In Fréjus – it’s not too far away. I visit all of the local markets in the area.’

‘That sounds like a nice life.’

‘It is hard work.’ She smiled. ‘I must get up very early.’

‘You don’t look like it,’ Haydon said and wished he hadn’t as the heat travelled to his face. What a ridiculous thing to say. What a ridiculous reaction he was having to this woman, especially with Ella standing right next to him, but she was so impossibly beautiful that he couldn’t help it. ‘I mean, if I got up really early every day I’d look a mess… not great… if you see what I mean…’

‘Are you married?’ Ella asked the woman, and Haydon whipped round to stare at her. But the stallholder simply gave a musical laugh.

‘No, I am not married.’ And as she said it she shot a swift glance at Haydon. Was she flirting with him? He hardly dared imagine he’d be so lucky – she was way out of his league. In fact, she was way out of the league of any man alive.

‘My mum and my dad aren’t together any more,’ Ella said, and this time Haydon widened his eyes in a silent warning.

‘We’ll get some pain au chocolat,’ Haydon said, desperate to steer the conversation away from such mortifying territory. Had it been that obvious he fancied this woman like mad? And did he seem so desperate for a girlfriend that even Ella was trying to matchmake now? ‘And perhaps half a dozen croissants to see us through tomorrow morning too, eh, Ella?’

‘But of course,’ the woman said smoothly, clearly aware that he was uncomfortable with the turn of the conversation, though at the corners of her mouth tugged a smile that spoke of amusement too. She began to pack the croissants into a bag.

‘How many pain au chocolat?’

‘Four?’ Haydon asked, looking to Ella for approval. Ella, perhaps realising herself just how she’d overstepped the mark, simply gave a silent nod and then looked at her feet. The woman packed the pains au chocolat too, and then spoke to Ella directly.

‘Mademoiselle…’

Ella looked up to see the woman was smiling sweetly, holding out a pink-iced cupcake. ‘For you.’

Ella took it, breaking into a broad smile. ‘Thank you!’

‘You are welcome. Your papa is a lucky man to have such a beautiful and loving daughter.’

‘I know it,’ Haydon said, pride swelling in his breast as he looked at Ella now. She’d only wanted to see him dating, see him happy. He hadn’t realised until this moment that she’d perhaps been hoping to see that for a long time, especially as her mum had moved on with Kevin. Perhaps she understood better than he gave her credit for that Haydon found it painful to see Kevin take his place in their household. But it was hard to understand at Ella’s age that life or love wasn’t so simple.

‘Will you be here again?’ Ella asked.

‘In two days,’ the woman said. ‘But I will be at markets in Port Grimaud and Fréjus also.’

‘We’ll come back, won’t we, Dad?’

‘Absolutely,’ Haydon said.

‘Bon.’ The woman gave Ella a warm smile. ‘I am glad to have met you. And you also, Monsieur,’ she added, turning to Haydon with a smile that was rather more coquettish.

‘Haydon,’ he said. ‘My name’s Haydon. And this is Ella.’

‘My name is Audrey. I hope to see you again, Haydon and Ella.’

He gave her a dopey smile and picked up his bags. ‘We should probably get going…’

‘Of course. Goodbye.’

Ella whispered as they walked away, ‘She was so pretty!’

‘Yes,’ Haydon said in a carefully neutral reply.

‘And she’s not married,’ Ella said, licking the top of her cupcake. Haydon glanced down at her. She wore a wide-eyed look that he recognised well: her you must believe I’m not up to anything look.

‘It doesn’t mean she’s not dating. And she’s French.’

‘So?’

‘Ella…’

‘Yes?’

Haydon shook his head. ‘Never mind. Eat your cake, and if you still have room for ice cream after that I’ll be amazed.’

‘That’s weird,’ Ashley murmured as they walked towards the exit of the market and back into the streets of the old town where colourful doors in pale stone houses ran in higgledy-piggledy rows and every window box was stuffed with bright flowers. The sounds of the market were already fading to a murmur, but the sweet scent of the goods on offer still hung in the warm air.

‘What is?’

‘Huh?’ Ashley shook her head and realised that the thought had also come out of her mouth.

‘Oh… the pastry was cheaper than I was expecting, that’s all.’

‘I’d have thought it would be a good thing, not weird,’ Molly said.

‘Well, yes,’ Ashley replied with a vague smile. ‘It is, but I was just wondering how I’d got it wrong.’

‘Because – and I say this with love – you can be a bit scatty.’

‘Thank you.’ Ashley looked askance at her daughter. ‘I’m pleased to hear that I command such respect and awe in you. Scatty?’

‘I did say it was said with love,’ Molly replied.

‘That makes it alright then.’

‘If it makes you feel any better then I think I’m scatty too.’

‘Not really, because that would make it my fault.’

‘It might not. I do have more than one biological parent, you know.’

It was a flippant comment, and ordinarily Ashley would have attached no significance to it. For Molly, not knowing about her father had never really been an issue, and it was as natural a reality to her as it was for her friends to have a regular nuclear family. She’d never been bitter about it, though sometimes over the years she’d been curious. Ashley had told her as much as she knew – which wasn’t actually very much at all – and that had been enough for Molly. She loved her mother and she didn’t need anyone else. And sometimes, when schoolfriends came in with stories of embarrassing or overprotective fathers, Molly had even told Ashley that she was glad only to have a really cool mother.

Ashley tried not to connect what Molly had just said with the man she’d glimpsed in the market. He had looked so remarkably like a man she’d once known, one she had no wish to see again, that she’d felt the blood leave her face and her heart almost stop. He’d turned to chat to a teenage girl by his side and Ashley, shaken and confused, had ushered Molly away as quickly as she could while trying to pretend that all was normal.

But it couldn’t be him. Here, in Saint-Raphaël, of all places? Now, of all times? That would be ridiculous. And he must have changed a lot in sixteen years – she was sure she had – so she’d probably barely recognise him if she did see him now. Ashley gave herself an internal prod and chased the thought away. It was ridiculous, and there was no point in worrying about it because it would only ruin her holiday. It was probably some random bloke with a passing resemblance and it wouldn’t be the first time she’d seen someone who’d looked a little like him, though she’d never felt quite so shaken by it before.

‘Mum?’ Molly nudged her. ‘Are you listening? Do you want me to save one of these pastries for you or not? Because I can totally eat them all.’

‘What about lunch?’

‘Don’t worry.’ She grinned. ‘I’ve got a fast metabolism – lunch will be no problem.’

‘You eat them,’ Ashley said. ‘I can wait now.’

As they walked past the church the clock bells struck the hour. Ashley counted eleven chimes. They hadn’t been out for long, but for some reason she suddenly felt sapped of energy and she wanted nothing more than to sit in the shade of Violette Dupont’s veranda and rock gently on the old swing seat. It would be lunch soon anyway, so perhaps Molly wouldn’t mind if they headed back a little earlier than they’d planned. Ashley would make it up to her later, go to the beach or swimming or something.

‘Maybe we should get some flowers for Violette and head back. It’s going to take a little while to walk and we don’t want to rush in this heat. After lunch, when things cool down, we can venture out again.’

‘That’s fine,’ Molly said, licking her fingers as she finished off the second pastry. ‘I can FaceTime Imogen anyway – it’s her birthday and her parents are taking her out later.’

‘I bet she can’t wait for that,’ Ashley said with a wry smile.

‘I think they’re getting on a lot better,’ Molly said. ‘At least her mum hasn’t thrown a drink at her dad for the last few weeks, so they must be making progress.’ She slipped her arm through Ashley’s to walk with her. ‘At least we don’t have any of that crap to worry about when it’s just me and you and we get on really well.’

Ashley forced a smile that felt as if it had no right to be on her face. Molly was right, but why couldn’t she shake the unsettling and random idea that everything was about to change?

Haydon checked his watch. ‘I think we’re about done. It’s eleven fifteen now and it’s going to take us a while to walk back to the villa, so maybe we should start back?’

‘We can get ice cream first?’

‘You’re not going to give up on this, are you?’

Ella grinned. ‘Nope.’

‘Well, if you can walk with it you can have it. I don’t want to risk this food going off in the heat. But if you want to wait we can come straight back and spend the afternoon here and you can eat ice cream until you hurl.’

‘Dad!’ Ella groaned. ‘Sometimes you’re so gross.’

‘Not funny?’

‘Not as funny as you think.’

‘Hmm…’ Haydon said, pretending to be deep in thought. ‘That’s disappointing.’

‘But you are quite funny. Sometimes.’

‘When I’m not with you?’

‘Usually,’ Ella replied with a grin.

Haydon was quiet as they wandered the old town looking for an ice-cream parlour. He’d spent a great deal of the morning trying to work out whether Audrey’s flirting had been flirting at all. Surely a woman that gorgeous couldn’t be interested in someone like him? And yet the signs had been there. He wondered what she would say if he ran back there and asked her to dinner. But then he had Ella to think of too, and it didn’t seem very responsible to get involved with a local. He supposed they could take Ella with them, though it would hardly be romantic. Perhaps that would be OK, though.

And then, for some strange reason, something else came back to him. The English woman he’d seen leaving Audrey’s stall before he arrived. In the back of his mind, that had been bugging him too. She’d looked so familiar – and then all at once it came to him. She looked exactly like the girl he’d had a one-night stand with in Ibiza. He hadn’t thought of her for a long time now, and he’d stopped wondering where she was and what had happened to her. It hadn’t been his intention for it to be a one-night stand – in fact, he’d almost fancied he’d fallen for her that night. He’d left his number before rushing off for his early flight, but she’d never called him, and he’d taken that as a sign that she’d either been ashamed or appalled by their liaison, that she hadn’t fancied him in the same way he’d fancied her, or that it was nothing new to her and she treated all her one-night stands as just that, with no desire to make them anything more lasting. He’d been a little hurt at first, but once he’d met Janine all that had faded.

The woman he’d seen in the market had a girl with her – perhaps a little older than Ella. Had his fling from all those years ago settled down? Maybe she’d found Mr Right, had kids, a successful career, the perfect family, the whole shebang. He hunted in his memory for a minute; what had she been called? Ashley – that was it! It was all he had. They’d been too drunk to exchange surnames, or if they had he didn’t remember. He didn’t even know where she was from; all he had was the memory of a sexy accent that sounded like something northern, though he couldn’t even begin to say where. As for recalling her face, he wasn’t sure he could until he’d seen the woman in the market just now; the more he thought about it, the more the details came back to him.

‘Dad.’ Ella pointed to a pink-and-pistachio-striped awning, interrupting his reverie. ‘I think that’s the ice-cream place there.’

‘So it is,’ he said, forcing himself back to the here and now. ‘So, how about we get a cone as big as your head and fill it?’