I cleared my throat. ‘Carl? It’s Emmy.’

‘Emmy?’ The surprise in his voice came across the Channel loud and clear. ‘Aren’t you in France? Is everything alright?’

‘Yes, I’m in France and I’m fine, but no, everything’s not alright. I’ve got some problems here and I need to stay another week.’

‘You need to what? Another week?’ His voice headed into the realms of a girlish squeak.

‘I’m sorry, but there’s no way around it. I wouldn’t ask otherwise, you know that,’ I simpered, hoping to butter him up with a tone of voice that suggested I couldn’t imagine he would ever be anything other than understanding.

‘But a week, Emmy, on top of the fortnight already. What could be so important? Are you unwell?’

This was the tricky part. If I made up an illness so severe that it prevented me from coming home, Carl might ask for proof that I’d visited a French doctor or something. And of course I had no idea what tale Nathan would spin when he got back. I decided to stick with embellishment rather than outright fabrication.

‘To tell the truth, it’s all been a bit of a disaster. I’m – we’re – staying with a friend over here and he’s had a terrible time of it. A heart attack...’ Well, that was what we’d thought at the time, wasn’t it? ‘…and a damaged ligament in his leg. He was in hospital, but now he’s out and he’s incapacitated and he lives on his own and there’s nobody else to look after him.’ I slowed down, trying not to babble. ‘If I could stay another week till he’s back on his feet, it would make all the difference.’

There was an ominous pause. ‘Well, I can see your predicament, Emmy, but you know it’s not company policy to allow such a long stretch at once.’

‘Carl, I’ve taken less than half my holiday allowance each year for the past three years.’ I knew this to be true because I’d worked it out in my head at two in the morning.

‘Be that as it may, Emmy, holiday leave can’t be carried forward from one year to the next, you know that.’

You tight bastard.

‘I’m well aware of that, but I still have another two weeks owing for this year, and nowhere in my contract does it say extended leave is forbidden, only that it must be negotiated with my boss. I work all the hours God sends when we have a deadline, you know I do.’

I could hear the cogs turning. Carl was one of those blokes who delegates and then pretends to senior management that he’s done most of the work. Another week of my absence wouldn’t be easy for him.

He sighed. ‘Okay, Emmy. If you must, you must. But if you’re not back a week on Monday, there’ll be hell to pay for both of us.’

‘I understand. You’ll need to go through my desk and find the file for the Kelly account. The meeting’s midweek.’

‘Midweek? But who’s going to do the presentation if you’re not here?’ There was an edge of panic in his voice. The Kellys were not easy people to deal with, stuck at least a decade behind the times, stubborn as mules, and I seemed to be the only person they would listen to.

‘Dave knows all about it. He’s been working closely with me and he did a lot of the legwork. He needs to get more experience with presentation, so perhaps he could take that on. If you give him a hand, I’m sure he’ll sail through it.’

‘Well, I don’t know about that, Emmy. You’ve always dealt with the Kellys.’

‘I know, but...’ I hesitated.

The kernel of an idea had been brewing in the back of my mind for a while, but with everything else that was going on, my brain hadn’t properly latched onto it. Now, as I gazed around Rupert’s study and took in the vintage, masculine feel of the leather-topped desk and captain’s chair, the brass pen pot on the desk, the antique blotter, it began to burn that little bit brighter.

‘You know, Carl, I’m beginning to think we should take a different direction with that company. They’re paying us to help them move on, but they’re so hesitant about everything we suggest, we never seem to move forward. I’m thinking about maybe helping them move backwards instead.’

‘You’re... What?’

I grinned. ‘The Kellys produce good quality – if old-fashioned – footwear. Maybe it’s time we played on that instead of glossing over it. Vintage is in right now. Talk to Dave – that kind of thing’s right up his street. He can give them both options and I’ll work on the detail when they choose the vintage route.’

‘Well, I don’t know, Emmy...’

‘We won’t lose them, Carl. They’re old-fashioned and stick with what they’re used to. That’s usually a pain in the arse, but this time it suits us – it means they’re not going to move the account just because I’m not at one meeting. Honest.’

‘Well, if you’re sure...’

‘I’m sure. And can you chivvy Heather with that price research I left her with?’

Carl huffed. ‘Okay, but really, if you were here where you’re supposed to be...’

‘Thanks, I really appreciate it. Bye.’

‘Emmy, wait! What about Nathan? He’s not staying out there for another week as well, is he?’

Ah. Should have anticipated that one. ‘To be honest, Carl, I don’t know.’

‘You don’t know?’

‘He’s not here. He – um – went to stay with a different friend this week.’ True enough. ‘But I had to stay to help with this sick friend, so I – er – assume he’ll be back on Monday.’

‘Can you get hold of him?’ Carl persisted, oblivious to my discomfort. ‘Derek’s going mad up in accounts. He’s been trying to contact Nathan for two days over some problem, but his mobile’s always switched off. I gave Derek your mobile number.’

‘Oh. I – er – haven’t checked my phone today.’ Crikey – the last thing I needed was a phone call from Nathan’s boss. ‘And I’m sorry, Carl, but I don’t know the friend’s number.’ Lame. ‘It’s Nathan’s friend more than mine.’ Indisputable. ‘Maybe he lost his charger or something?’ Get out now, Emmy, before you make it worse. ‘If I hear from him, I’ll tell him Derek was after him.’

‘Fine. See you when you get back.’

‘Thanks, Carl.’

But he’d already gone, presumably to let Derek know that Nathan was irresponsibly uncontactable and I was a babbling idiot.

As I sat recovering from my ordeal, I wondered what Nathan would think on Monday when he turned up to work – assuming he did turn up to work – and I didn’t show. My main problem was that he would get first run at telling his side of the story, although I couldn’t imagine he would announce to everyone that he’d slept with someone else’s wife while on holiday with his own partner and then run off with said floozy. That sort of thing didn’t go down too well in the accounts department.

Up in my room, I braved turning my mobile on long enough to text Sophie with my decision, then broke the happy news to Rupert, who was ecstatic that his live-in help was daft enough to stay on.

‘I appreciate it, Emmy. I know it must’ve made things difficult for you at work. Take as much time for yourself as you can. Maybe we should get out more. Or we could have people over for dinner. I could introduce you to some of my friends. Get you a bit of a social circle going.’

I looked at him in surprise. ‘I’m only here for another ten days, Rupert. I’m not going to pine for lack of company in that time.’

He frowned. ‘No, I know, but there are lots of lovely people around here, Emmy. Might be fun for you.’

He gave me a strange, considered look, and although I wasn’t sure what was behind it, I was pretty sure I would live to regret it.

Feeling I’d earned a rest, I went outside, all the way to the bottom of the garden to my favourite hideaway where I could sit in the shade of the mauve and white lilacs and doze.

Telling Carl I was going to stay another week was the right decision. I had a fabulous haircut, I’d made a new friend in Sophie, and I was having a... stimulating affair with a gardening god. I felt genuinely happy.

I should have known it couldn’t last.

‘Mother, please. I don’t need you to... Of course it would be good to see you but I don’t think there’s room for you here, it’s fully booked. Oh. You already asked the owner? Well, why didn’t you say so? No, I’m not trying to put you off. Yes, I’m managing perfectly well. How did you find out about all this, anyway? I might have known. Yes, I am eating properly. No, I’m not going to do anything stupid. How will Dad get the time off work? Fine. See you tomorrow. Yes, love to Dad. Bye, Mum.’

That was my side of the telephone conversation I had with my mother later that afternoon. My mother’s side was somewhat longer. How did she know what was going on?

To cut a long and garbled story short, it seemed Carl had not got as far as telling Nathan’s boss about Nathan’s new whereabouts, because Derek, still unable to contact Nathan on his mobile, had phoned the number at La Cour des Roses which Nathan had furnished him with in case of accounting emergencies. So much for our agreement not to worry about work on our precious holiday together.

Rupert, woken from his nap and unable to spot me at the bottom of the garden from the house, assumed I’d gone for a walk and took it upon himself to inform Derek that Nathan was no longer on the premises, so Derek had looked up Nathan’s emergency contact on the personnel database and – foolishly, in my opinion – phoned Nathan’s mother in the hope that she might know how to reach her son.

We can all imagine her reaction – one minute under the impression her son was on a nice holiday with his girlfriend, the next in a state of confusion bordering on panic. Derek, belatedly realising he’d put his size nines where they shouldn’t be, had bowed out as gracefully and tactfully as he could and scuttled off to deal with his accounting dilemma on his lonesome.

There was nothing graceful or tactful about Nathan’s mother, on the other hand. Assuming that whatever had happened was all my fault – as usual – she’d got straight on the phone to my mother, first to find out if she was in the picture, then to put her in the picture, then to say what a disgrace I was to ignore her poor darling son so much that he’d absconded in the middle of his holiday.

My mother was not one to take such an onslaught lying down. She could hold her own, even against Nathan’s mother – an ability that had me in awe. Leaving the woman in no doubt as to what she thought of both her and her son, she immediately tried my mobile, which of course lay neglected in my bedside drawer.

Mum always prised contact numbers out of me before I went away – ‘In case your father has a stroke or something, Emmy’ – so she phoned La Cour des Roses to verify that Nathan had left and to find out where he’d gone and why.

Rupert, having just dozed off again, was caught unawares – not a good state to be in when speaking to my mother. Even so, his underused tact radar must have won out over his thick skin for a change, because he realised she was not to be toyed with and refused to confirm anything other than the fact that Nathan had indeed left and his current whereabouts remained unknown – although, under her remorseless questioning, he did confess that I wasn’t returning home on Saturday as planned and would be staying another week. This, of course, was enough to make my mother demand a room for the weekend and insist I phone her back the minute I was located.

Heaven forbid that the airline gods should look kindly upon me and ensure no last-minute flights were available. My parents were due to arrive mid-afternoon the next day.

With my ears still ringing from the verbal onslaught that was my mother in full panic mode, I laid into Rupert about interfering in other people’s affairs.

‘I need to know what you told Nathan’s boss. Exact words, Rupert.’

‘He asked to speak to Nathan. I told him Nathan wasn’t here. He asked if I had a forwarding number and I said I didn’t. Then he asked if you were still here, and I said you were and you’d spoken to your boss this afternoon.’ He hesitated. ‘Was that okay?’

‘Yes. Good. Okay.’ I was grateful for Rupert’s unusual restraint. At least he hadn’t said anything that could clash with what I’d told Carl. ‘That’s it?’

‘That’s it. Scouts’ honour. I wanted to tell him his feckless employee ran off to shack up with a woman old enough to be his...’

‘Tell me you didn’t.’

‘But I didn’t.’

‘Thank the Lord for that. Right. Next.’

‘There’s more?’ Rupert shifted from foot to foot like a guilty schoolboy.

‘Yes, there’s more. Did you have to tell my mother I’m staying on? Did you have to invite them here? Couldn’t you have told her you didn’t have any vacancies?’

‘You would’ve had to tell them you were staying another week sooner or later, and you know it. As for inviting them, I didn’t. Your mother invited herself. All I did was confess under vicious interrogation that there would be a room free tomorrow. If you hadn’t been hiding at the bottom of the garden, you would have ended up doing the same.’ His voice softened. ‘She sounded worried about you, Emmy. I got the distinct impression she wouldn’t take no for an answer. I don’t see what else I could have done.’

I heaved a sigh. He was right. We’d been well and truly steamrollered – but that didn’t mean I had to like it.

With an innocent look on his face, he added, ‘You never told me your full name was Emmeline.’

This was what came of allowing people to talk to my mother. When she was distraught, she had a habit of reverting to the name on my birth certificate.

‘I don’t use it. I only answer to Emmy. Bear that in mind if you want to live long enough to meet my mother.’ You could have balanced a coffee cup on my bottom lip, I was pouting so much.

‘I think it’s delightful.’ Rupert dodged clumsily before I could hit him. ‘But I can see that you don’t. Where did she get that from?’

‘A film. Mum was pregnant with me and raging with hormones when she saw it. She decided the name was romantic.’

Rupert laughed.

‘At least I wasn’t named after a bear in checked trousers,’ I shot at him.

He smiled in that aggravatingly mild-mannered way of his. ‘Touché, Emmy.’

Still feeling that Rupert was somehow to blame for the disastrous way things had panned out and knowing I was being unfair, I stayed out of his way for the rest of the afternoon, occupying myself with making up the room for the Kennedys who were due to arrive tomorrow. My parents would have to take the Hendersons’ room, and since there was nothing I could do about that until the hateful, stuck-up pair left in the morning, the following day would be far more hectic than I’d anticipated.

Dinner was a somewhat strained affair, with Rupert still shell-shocked from his dealings with my mother and me still sulking. In a sudden stroke of genius that would get me out of the house and reduce tomorrow’s workload, I demanded his shopping list for the following night’s guest meal and went out to do a late-evening shop.

By the time I started back from the supermarket, I was exhausted, stressed out, furious with Rupert and furious with my parents. As I rubbed at the tension in my neck, I remembered Ryan’s healing touch in the garden yesterday. Ryan. Mmm. His place was only a little out of my way. It would be rude not to drop in and say hi, wouldn’t it? A slight detour here, another little detour there...

‘Sorry to drop in without phoning first,’ I said as he opened the door. Belatedly, it occurred to me that he might have company. ‘Are you busy?’

‘I am now.’ He took my hand and pulled me in. ‘Any particular reason for your visit? Anything I can do for you?’ His eyebrows wiggled suggestively, and my tension began to melt away like a switch had been flicked.

I flopped down on the sofa. ‘I’m staying another week. I phoned work this afternoon. My boss wasn’t happy.’

Ryan perched on the arm of the sofa. ‘That’s good. That you’re staying another week, I mean – not that your boss is pissed off. I’m glad you’ll be around a bit longer.’

I looked up at him. He seemed to mean it, and inwardly I sighed with relief. Ryan and I hadn’t yet defined the boundaries of our... liaisons, and as I’d driven to his place, I’d worried my news might panic him. I didn’t want him to think I was staying because of him, and I made a mental note that we ought to discuss it sometime. But for now, he seemed at ease with the situation – and I had enough on my plate without rocking my already-capsizing boat.

‘There’s more,’ I said sulkily. ‘Nathan’s boss phoned La Cour des Roses and Rupert told him Nathan had left, so Nathan’s boss phoned Nathan’s mother who phoned my mother who phoned Rupert, and now she and my father are descending on us tomorrow.’ My shoulders slumped in defeat.

‘Ah. All that tension we got rid of yesterday has come right back, hasn’t it?’

‘Mmm-hmm.’ I rolled my shoulders. ‘I wondered if we could have another therapy session. You know, so I could relax.’

‘No problem. I’m feeling kind of tense myself.’

I slapped playfully at him. ‘You’re never tense.’

‘I hide it well. I get tense here.’ He lifted my hand and placed it on his chest, where I could feel his heart thudding against my palm. My mouth went dry. ‘And here.’ He placed my other hand... Well, it’s safe to say there was nothing relaxed about where he put it.

‘In that case, I’d better get to work on you,’ I said in my best sultry manner. ‘You obviously need a thorough going-over.’

‘You think so?’

‘I know so.’

‘I like a woman who knows her own mind.’

‘That’s good, because I know exactly what I want right now.’

And I took it. And Ryan had no complaints.

It was late when I got back, and as I ferried the shopping from the car to the kitchen, I hoped against hope that Rupert might have gone to bed early so I wouldn’t have to explain myself.

No such luck.

‘You’ve been a long time, Emmy,’ he said, limping into the kitchen to give me a hand shoving the now thoroughly-unchilled chilled items into the fridge. ‘I was beginning to think you’d got arrested for shoplifting.’

‘Ha ha. It took ages, that’s all. There was such a queue at the deli counter. And the cheese counter.’ I grasped at straws. ‘Then the girl at the checkout put something through twice and it took me forever to get her to understand, and she had to call someone over.’

‘Still, the supermarket closed an hour ago. Get lost on the way home?’

I gulped and tried to ignore my suspicion that there was a glimmer of mischief behind his innocuous enquiry. ‘No, but it was such a nice night that I decided to go the long way round. I was enjoying the drive and the breeze through the window.’ Change the subject, Emmy, before you dig yourself any deeper. ‘Anyway, let’s get this lot unpacked. I need to get to bed. I’m exhausted.’

‘Yes, you must be.’ He allowed a melodramatic pause. ‘You go on up. I’ll do this.’

‘Thanks.’

‘No worries. You’ll need all your strength for tomorrow. Parents coming and all that.’

I groaned and headed off to bed. I was shattered. I thought holidays were supposed to be less stressful.

By the time I flopped down for lunch the next day, I ached all over. My body wasn’t used to all this continuous physical activity. The frenetic combination of housework and rampant sex was either going to leave me incredibly fit or finish me off altogether.

Madame Dupont had come for a cleaning stint in the morning and soon picked up on my agitation.

‘What is wrong, Emie?’ she asked as we made thé au citron and took a break. ‘You are working too hard!’

‘My parents arrive today,’ I explained in my halting French. ‘They found out about Nathan and they’re coming for the weekend.’

‘Won’t that be nice for you?’

I shrugged. ‘Maybe. My mother... She asks a lot of questions.’

Madame Dupont gave an unladylike cackle. ‘And you don’t want to tell her all the answers, no?’

‘No.’

She reached across to pat my hand. ‘Mothers always know the truth.’

‘You’re right.’ I sighed. ‘I need to get back to work.’

‘Why do you need to clean so much? Because your mother is coming?’

‘I want to please her, I suppose.’

Madame Dupont shook her head. ‘You will please her by being you, Emie. Not by polishing.’ When I frowned uncomprehendingly at the last word, she mimed it and showed me the tin of polish, making me repeat after her.

I finished my tea. ‘You don’t know my mother. It could go either way.’

Rupert wasn’t at all remorseful about being partially responsible for my mother and father descending on us. He delighted in making me miserable throughout lunch by regaling me with all the outrageous things he would say to them, including hinting that he and I were involved in a passionate affair to make up for our partners’ infidelity.

‘That’s hardly likely with your leg,’ I told him as I devoured my sandwich.

‘Tell me about your parents. After that conversation with your mother yesterday, I feel the need for advance information so I can prepare my defence strategy.’

I grinned. ‘Mum’s in charge of that partnership, if you hadn’t already guessed. She’s the one who organises us and gets things done.’

‘And how does your father survive this onslaught?’

‘Quietly and uncomplainingly.’ I hastened to jump to his defence. ‘He’s not downtrodden, though. He’s placid, I suppose, and contented – happy to let Mum take charge because he can see that’s what makes her tick. He works hard, and I think he has enough of being in charge at work. When he gets home, he’s happy to hand over the reins to Mum.’

‘What does he do?’

‘He’s the accounts manager at a big manufacturing company.’

Rupert spluttered out a laugh. ‘What is it with you and accountants? I thought you’d had enough of them with Nathan!’

‘Yes, well, Dad came first, didn’t he?’ I scowled. ‘It was Nathan that was one accountant too many in my life.’

Tactfully, Rupert changed the subject. ‘Does your mum work?’ He shuddered, as though imagining what devastating effect she might have on her work colleagues.

‘No. She was a secretary when they first met, but Dad earned enough for her to stay at home when we were small, which she dutifully did, although I don’t think she enjoyed not being in the thick of things. By the time we were old enough for her to go back to work, she ran so many committees and charity whatnots, she didn’t have time.’ I smiled. ‘When I was a teenager, I was so embarrassed by them. I thought my mother was too loud, too bossy, and I wished Dad would stop being a wimp and stand up to her. But then I had relationships of my own, and I developed a kind of admiration for what they have. They both like the way things are. That’s all that matters, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, I suppose it is.’

We both fell silent, as I contemplated my so not-made-in-heaven match with Nathan, and Rupert no doubt did the same about his relationship with Gloria.

‘You look tired, Rupert. You need to go for a rest.’

‘Yes, Nurse.’

He winked as his mobile rang. Digging it out of his pocket, he answered as he limped off to his room.

‘Alain! Good to hear from you. I’ve been thinking about what you said, and you’re quite right. We do have a lot to discuss. Yes, maybe we should meet...’

God, that accountant was a pest. Like a dog with a bone.

I hurried upstairs to clear out the Hendersons’ room. Since they were supposed to vacate by ten, I’d hoped to get it done earlier – but of course the wretched couple didn’t leave until midday. They made no apology, just took their own sweet time packing their fancy matching luggage and distracting Rupert from his chores with a detailed itinerary of their imminent assault on Paris. Heaven help the Parisians.

At least they paid up without a quibble. I’d half-expected them to demand a discount for mental trauma caused by their fellow occupants’ domestic crises, so I was startled when they complimented Rupert on how well he’d provided for them under the circumstances. They shook his hand, asserted they would be back next year, shot me a curt nod and left.

‘I didn’t even get a thank you!’ I spluttered.

Rupert surprised me with a kiss on the forehead. ‘You can have one from me instead. For helping me keep the hardest customers of the year happy.’

I’d just finished their room when the phone rang. Knowing it was too much to hope that my parents’ flight might have been cancelled, I picked it up with a gruff, ‘Bonjour.’

There was a pause. ‘Emmy?’

‘Yes?’

‘Hi there, big sis. Wasn’t sure it was you, for a minute. Had visions of a sexy French maid.’

I rolled my eyes. My little brother, the playboy. ‘Hi, Nick. What’s up?’

‘I believe it’s me who should be asking you that question. At least, that was one of the many instructions I received at seven minutes past eleven last night.’

‘Ah. Mum got to you already. Eleven-o-seven precisely?’

‘Yup. I know, because I was in the middle of something important and didn’t appreciate the interruption. You have a lot to answer for.’

‘Sorry. Who was it this time?’

‘Ginny. You don’t know her. Neither do I, now – not in the way I wanted to. Has Nathan really sailed off into the blue yonder?’

‘I’m afraid so.’

‘How’re you holding up?’ His joshing tone was gone. My brother might be a perennial teenager despite his twenty-nine years, but he wasn’t uncaring with it.

‘I’m okay, considering. I’m over the shock, getting past the anger and heading into oh-my-god-what-am-I-going-to-do-now.’

‘You’ll be fine. We Jamiesons are resilient folk. Besides, Mum has no intention of letting you fall apart. Are they there yet?’

‘No. They’re due any minute, though.’

‘Don’t let her bully you. Phone me if you need moral support.’

‘Okay. I will.’ I felt the tears threaten and swallowed hard. A big hug from my little brother wouldn’t have gone amiss right now.

‘Oh, and Emmy? Just so you know. I always thought Nathan was a bit of a dickhead.’

I laughed. ‘I know you did.’

‘Oh. Do you think he knew?’

‘Yes.’

‘Ah. That might explain why we never hit it off. Bye, sis.’

‘Bye, Nick.’

As I put the phone down, I glanced in the hall mirror and winced. I looked awful. My hair was scraped back in a stubby ponytail for cleaning purposes, the dark bags under my eyes could rival Rupert’s, and now my eyes were red from the effort of fighting back tears. Conscious that my ever-perceptive mother would be here soon, I ran upstairs to shower, apply concealer and blow-dry my hair into some vague semblance of the style Sophie had so effortlessly achieved for me. I needed to look confident and capable and serene. My mother was already fired up by the melodrama of my predicament. I didn’t want to add fuel to it by looking like death warmed up.