The next morning, I decided to take my parents sightseeing. Since Saturday would be the usual flurry and they were leaving on Sunday afternoon, I needed to show my mother that I could enjoy a day out like any other holidaymaker.

‘I’ll drive, Dad. You have a rest and enjoy the scenery.’ This offer took my father by surprise as we headed across the courtyard towards the cars.

‘Oh no, Emmy, don’t worry. We have the rental car.’

‘Mine and Nathan’s is bigger. You can’t swing a cat in that sardine tin you turned up in.’

Dad looked aghast. ‘But yours is right-hand drive, Emmy. Wouldn’t we be better in this one?’

I gave him a look. ‘Don’t you trust me to drive?’

‘Of course I do, sweetheart.’ His expression belied his words. ‘But you don’t like driving abroad. You always make Nathan do it.’

I patted his arm, took their stuff (my mother always packed for all eventualities, even on a day trip) and piled it into the boot of the car.

‘Yes, well, Nathan hasn’t been available for chauffeur duties, so I’ve had to get on and do it myself. You can navigate. You know I can’t read a map for toffee.’

Mum and Dad exchanged a glance and climbed delicately into the car as though it might fall apart. With a spray of gravel, which was unnecessary but fun, we headed off.

Rupert had scribbled a manageable itinerary, which would take us to several little towns with châteaux. When it became apparent to my parents that their daughter was no longer reluctant behind the wheel and was unlikely to crash into a ditch or drive into a barn, they began to relax, my mother oohing and aahing at the fields and villages from the back seat, my father staring rapt out of his window without a murmur.

At our first stop in Montreuil-Bellay, we found a café where we could sit outside and overlook the château.

After coffee, we circled the château to stroll alongside the river for a while. I suspected Dad had given Mum the hard word, because both of them were careful to pick neutral topics. Nathan wasn’t mentioned once.

With our limbs stretched, I drove on – still competent and thereby still startling my parents – to Chinon, where we found the restaurant Rupert had recommended on a cobbled street leading up from the river. I couldn’t remember the last time we’d sat in the sunshine having lunch together. Life back home was always so busy with work that at weekends I just wanted to flop. And whenever I dragged Nathan with me to spend time with my parents, there was the unspoken payback that I would have to spend time with his parents – a fate worse than death. Nathan’s father always looked like he would rather be somewhere else (heaven knows, he wasn’t the only one) and his mother... Well, how do you describe the indescribable?

I might not have wanted Mum and Dad to come, but now they were here, I was glad.

‘So, Emmy, what’ll happen when you go back to work?’ Dad asked gently.

‘There’ll be a pile of stuff dumped on my desk and Carl will sulk because I took the extra week, I suppose.’

‘Yes, but what about Nathan, Emmy? Will he be there? Will people know what’s happened?’ Mum asked bluntly. If Dad had given her the hard word, the effects had worn off predictably quickly.

‘I don’t know. If he’s back, he’s back, and I’ll have to take it from there. If not, well, it all depends on what he’s told them. I’ll have to play it by ear. I haven’t got much choice, have I?’

My mother huffed. ‘It’s a disgrace. Not just leaving you like that, but leaving you in the dark. He’s making it hard for you on purpose.’

‘I don’t think he is doing it on purpose, Mum. To be honest, I don’t think he knows what he wants.’ I picked at my bread, shredding it into crumbs and sweeping them from the table. ‘But it’s a going to be a pretty crappy few months sorting the whole mess out.’

Dad spoke quietly. ‘This mess was of Nathan’s making too, Emmy. Stand up for yourself.’ He took out his wallet and beckoned the waiter. ‘And while you’re fighting your way through those crappy months ahead, keep your eyes on the prize. Freedom. Peace of mind. Being true to your heart. Those things might be clichés nowadays, but they’re worth the fight, love.’

We spent the afternoon pottering, all awkwardness behind us. My parents could relax. They had completed their mission. From the moment they’d arrived, they had somehow managed to sympathise, comfort, see for themselves that I wasn’t suicidal – indeed, that I was content for now – and help me clarify my thoughts and direction. Not an unremarkable feat in twenty-four hours.

We arrived back culturally replete and still in one piece, despite the fact that I’d driven the whole way. Looking forward to a lie-down before we ventured out to eat, I didn’t take kindly to Rupert’s accusatory tone the minute we got in.

‘Emmy. You forgot to take your mobile again.’

‘Sorry.’ I tried to sound sincere. ‘Why, did you need me? Anything wrong?’

He let out an exasperated sigh. ‘Nothing urgent, but I’ve had to make a decision on your behalf, so I hope it wasn’t the wrong one.’

‘Oh?’

‘Richard and Brenda rang to ask if we’d like to join them for a meal. I told them your parents are here and they suggested we all go. The more, the merrier and all that.’

‘Richard and Brenda?’ Tired from the long day, my brain wasn’t in full gear.

‘We met them at the market, remember? Ryan’s parents.’

His eyes were full of mischievous glee as my face blanched and then followed up with a blush for good measure. I said a silent prayer that he’d had the good sense to refuse. Then again, why should he? It wasn’t unreasonable to assume my parents might like to meet a pleasant middle-aged couple for a convivial meal. And in theory, of course, Rupert couldn’t know I’d have any reason to feel uncomfortable in the presence of said couple. In practice, the glimmer in his eyes suggested he had his suspicions and would enjoy any discomfort that might be served up alongside the food at dinner.

Rupert turned to Mum and Dad. ‘Nice couple. They run a business back in the UK but they have a holiday home and spend a good few weeks a year out here. Their son does my garden for me in the summer. But if you’d rather have Emmy to yourself, I’m sure they’d understand.’

‘No, that would be lovely,’ Mum said, sealing my fate. ‘We were going to ask you to eat out with us anyway, Rupert. Two more won’t make any difference.’

‘That’s settled, then. Good job, because I’d already accepted.’

By the time we piled into the restaurant – which was elegant, but with a touch of the countryside in its sage green tablecloths and napkins, and wicker and dried flower arrangements on the walls – I was calm and collected again. A long shower had helped me regain my equilibrium, and I’d given myself a stiff talking-to while I got ready.

How hard could it be? Ryan’s parents seemed nice and presumably had no idea I’d been shagging their son. Rupert was, admittedly, a loose cannon, but he was hardly likely to voice his sordid little suspicions. I was making a mountain out of a molehill.

Brenda and Richard rose from a large round table by the window to greet us. As I frowned at the extra place set and a jacket flung over the back of the upholstered chair, out of the corner of my eye I saw the door to the gents’ open, and Ryan strolled over to the table.

Oh, no.

As further introductions ensued, I did my best not to spontaneously combust with panic whilst at the same time shooting Rupert a vicious look.

‘Didn’t know you were coming, Ryan,’ he said jovially, shooting me an innocent look back.

Ryan didn’t even have the decency to look uncomfortable. ‘Neither did I. Mum and Dad decided it was time I was seen out in public in something other than muddy jeans.’

Everyone shuffled around choosing seats until, inevitably, I found myself next to Ryan. This didn’t appear to have anything to do with Rupert’s mischievous leanings, for once, but with my parents. The old folks must have thought I needed someone nearer my own age to talk to.

Wine was ordered, tasted and poured. In desperate need of an anaesthetic, I snatched up my glass and gulped a large mouthful.

Ryan smirked, and I kicked him forcefully under the table. He mouthed a dramatic “ouch” and continued to smirk.

Once we’d studied the menu and ordered, the table settled into polite chatter. Brenda and Richard were friendly and unpretentious – like their son, who seemed to have inherited all their good qualities.

Neither Gloria nor her departure were mentioned, but I couldn’t help wondering how the evening would have gone if she and Nathan had still been here. Brenda and Richard were clearly fond of Rupert, but I didn’t think Gloria would have been their type. Too dolled-up, too waspish. Nathan would have complained that he didn’t want to spend the evening with a bunch of strangers, and by this time he would have had his fill of Rupert’s bumptiousness. Then again, I would have been forty times more relaxed because I wouldn’t have slept with the young man sitting next to me who was currently running his hand up my thigh under the table.

I slapped it back. ‘Stop that!’ I hissed, smiling madly in case anyone noticed.

Ryan turned to me, propping his head up with his arm to block anyone from reading his lips.

‘What’s the matter with you tonight?’ he asked. ‘At the risk of sounding like my mother, you’re acting like you’ve got ants in your pants.’

I glowered as subtly as I could. ‘Has it occurred to you that I might be uncomfortable with your mum and dad because of...’

He made a mock production of getting the point. ‘Ah! Not ants in your pants. Me in your pants.’

‘What?’ I couldn’t believe he’d said that in the present company, even if it was under his breath. The others were in full swing discussing the merits and complications of buying property abroad and paying no attention to us, but even so.

‘That’s the problem?’ Ryan asked, his voice still low and conspiratorial.

‘Well, don’t you think this is all a little awkward?’

‘Not really. Nobody knows. I’m not sure it would matter if they did. Chill out a bit.’

My eyes flashed fire in place of raising my voice. ‘I appreciate this may not be a big deal for you, Ryan. For all I know, you sleep with older abandoned women all the time.’

‘Not at all. You’re my first. Cross my heart.’ He made a slashing motion across his chest, and I let out an exasperated sigh. It was hard to stay mad at him for more than two minutes.

‘Yes, and about that. Why me? Why aren’t you out with some flat-stomached girl your own age?’

Ryan laughed. ‘I’m not ageist, Emmy. I go out with women I find attractive, women I can talk to and feel comfortable with. You fit into that category. Stop selling yourself short.’

‘I’m not.’

Ryan squeezed his hand on mine under the table. ‘You’ve had a knock to your self-confidence, that’s all.’

‘I know. But this is all a bit weird, and it’s giving me the jitters. Rupert, I can cope with. My parents and your parents are another matter.’

As if they could tune in, both couples directed their attention to us. Dragged back into the group chatter, I tried hard to settle.

Rupert was the star turn as usual. Brenda and Richard were like new-found soul mates to my mum and dad, and Ryan was relaxed and charming with all of them. I envied him his easy-going personality and wondered whether he’d always been that way or whether it was down to the lifestyle he’d chosen – the lack of authority and structure, the outdoors, the summers in France?

In juxtaposition, my own lifestyle seemed positively dreary. I thought about drizzly days and lacklustre evenings in front of the telly with Nathan, with no energy or inclination to liven things up... But by the time coffee landed, my common sense had kicked back in. Ryan’s lifestyle wouldn’t suit me. For a start, I couldn’t keep a plant alive for love nor money. I viewed the outdoors as suitable for relaxing in, not for sweaty hard labour. And having been brought up by an accountant and then living with one, I couldn’t imagine not having the comforting predictability of a regular pay slip. Each to his own.

As the wine and coffee filtered through to my bladder, I excused myself and went to the ladies’. Catching my reflection in the mirror on the way back out, I pulled up short. The pink sunburn I’d been lamenting had given way to a golden glow, my hair was now pristinely French, and all the fresh fruit and salad (and possibly worry) must have offset the croissants and sauces, because unless my eye deceived me, I looked almost svelte. Bemused by the idea that Nathan deserting me in foreign lands should have had such a beneficial effect, I was still preening as I pulled open the door and ran headlong into Ryan in the small space that separated the toilets from the dining room.

‘Have you been lurking?’ I accused him when I got my breath back.

‘Maybe.’ His hands came up to my face and he planted his lips on mine. ‘You look more delicious than the food. I wanted a taste.’

I blushed at the compliment and tried to push him away. ‘We have to get back to the table. They might get suspicious.’

‘Of what?’

‘That we both came in here at the same time.’

Ryan laughed. ‘Emmy, we’ve been sitting at the table for three hours. Nobody’s going to think anything of the fact that we needed the loo at the same time.’

I tried not to respond to his kisses, but it wasn’t easy. With his body pressing me against the wall, my limbs began to turn to warm jelly.

‘What if someone comes in?’ I hissed when I came up for air.

Ryan spun me round so he was against the wall. ‘I’ll watch the door.’

There was a small pane of glass for him to see any approaching intruders, but my stomach fluttered from the combination of nerves, rich food, caffeine, alcohol and, surprisingly, excitement at the possibility of being discovered. I doubted it was good for the digestion.

As Ryan worked his magic, I opened my eyes and was gratified to see that he dutifully had one eye on the door. I closed mine again to savour the moment, but as his hands strayed downwards, I reluctantly pulled away.

Ryan may have been relaxed about all this, but I certainly wasn’t. And if I was uncomfortable about the idea of people knowing, then perhaps I should be uncomfortable with the thing itself. I hadn’t even told Sophie, despite telling her everything else under the sun.

I didn’t think Ryan saw this as anything other than a quick fling – at least, I hoped he didn’t – but I didn’t know for sure, and I would hate for one or both of us to be hurt through misunderstanding the situation. The problem was, we hadn’t really discussed it. Maybe it was time we did.

‘We need to talk,’ I blurted.

He cocked his head to one side in enquiry. ‘Okay. What is it?’

‘Ryan, this... thing between us has been great – wonderful, actually – but I’m in a pretty crap place at the moment. I’m not looking for a long-term relationship, and I assume you aren’t either. That first time we... got together, you said, “Let’s have some fun,” and I took you at your word.’ God, I hated having conversations like this. I sighed. ‘Maybe we should have talked about this sooner, but I didn’t want to spoil things.’

Ryan laid a hand on my arm. His face was open and honest. ‘Emmy, that’s okay. I’m not expecting anything of you and I never did. But I am worried you might think I took advantage of you. If I did, I didn’t mean to.’ He hesitated. ‘I know you go home next week, but you’ll be back at some point to see Rupert and I would like to stay friends. I’d hate for things to get awkward between us.’

I managed a wobbly smile. ‘Me too.’

His gaze was direct. ‘So where do you want to go from here? We can carry on the way we have been until you go, if you want. I’d be happy with that.’ A shadow crossed my face, and he nodded. ‘But I can see you’re not.’

I shook my head, feeling slightly sick. ‘I can’t explain why. I don’t think this evening has helped. I... I’m just not comfortable with it any more.’

‘The last thing I want is to make you feel uncomfortable.’ He put on a mock pout. ‘Shame, though. Now I might have to do some actual gardening when I go round to Rupert’s!’

I grinned. ‘So we’re good?’

‘We’re good.’ He reached for the door, then turned back and winked. ‘I can’t tempt you to a farewell quickie in a cubicle? Fine. We’ll go back to the table.’

I started to follow him out, but he wagged an admonishing finger at me. ‘Not together or they might get suspicious,’ he said in a girlish imitation of me. And then, in his own voice, ‘Besides, it wouldn’t make sense. Everyone knows women spend twice as long in here as men.’

I scurried back into the ladies’ to brush my hair and reapply lipstick. My head and my heart both declared their approval at my decision to call it quits with Ryan... but certain other elements of my anatomy couldn’t believe I was turning down a few more days’ hot sex with Adonis.

‘What a lovely couple,‘ Dad commented as he drove us home, the lanes quiet and the fields invisible in the dark beyond the roadside. ‘And Ryan seemed like a nice young man. Polite. Interesting. It’s good to see someone his age so enthused about the outdoors. Handsome, too. Pity he’s not nearer your own age, Emmy.’

I could sense Rupert tensing in the back seat next to me and guessed he was fighting a merry outburst. I tensed along with him, but there was no humour on my part, merely panic.

‘Hmm,’ I said noncommittally.

‘Oh, don’t be silly, Dennis,’ Mum came unwittingly to my rescue. ‘He’s a nice enough lad, but even if there wasn’t such an age gap, he’s hardly Emmy’s type.’

Rupert’s shoulders were shaking now, and I punched him just in time to convince him to turn a threatening guffaw into a cough. God, he could be so bloody childish sometimes. It was difficult to believe he was nearly an OAP.

Dad went on, oblivious. ‘If what you mean by that, Flo, is that he’s not like Nathan, then all credit to him is all I can say. She’s tried the steady, boring type and look how that turned out.’

The following day involved quite a juggling act. There were no rooms to sort out – we were full to the brim already – but I still had the supermarket run, three gîtes to help clean and two to make ready for new arrivals, plus the evening meal to help cook, and all this while plastering a smile on my face and taking several noticeable breaks to pacify my mother.

My schedule was put back ten minutes when I bumped into Jonathan at the supermarket.

‘Emmy! I heard you were staying another week. So glad!’

I accepted his over-familiar hug with stoicism. ‘Thanks.’

‘Bob! Come and meet the lovely Emmy!’ he yelled across the dairy aisle. ‘Had to ask yet another friend to help me today,’ he muttered crossly. ‘Leg playing up. Didn’t dare drive, but the cupboard was bare.’

Bob ambled over, an ageing hippie with long, straggling grey hair, a beard to match and jeans that had seen at least a couple of decades’ wear. We shook hands.

‘So you’re on Jonathan duty today?’ I asked.

He grinned. ‘I usually get away with it when it’s a driving task, seeing as I ride a motorbike.’

They both laughed when my eyes widened at the prospect of Jonathan riding pillion, clinging on for dear life.

Bob put me out of my misery. ‘Don’t worry, I drove Jonathan’s car today.’

‘So how do you two know each other?’

‘We frequent the same bar. Everyone gets dragged into Jonathan’s circle sooner or later. He’s like an inexorable force that sucks you in.’

‘Talking of which, will I see you again before you go home?’ Jonathan wanted to know.

‘I wouldn’t be at all surprised.’ I was getting used to this everyone-bumping-into-everyone thing.

‘Then we’d better let you get on. I know Saturday’s a busy day for you.’

Back at La Cour des Roses, Madame Dupont and I set to work, following the same routine as last week.

‘Where do you live back home?’ she asked me as we worked. ‘In a village or a city?’

‘In an apartment, near a city,’ I told her.

She wrinkled her nose in disapproval. ‘Is it busy and noisy?’

I laughed. ‘Yes, but I like that.’ I dredged through my mental French dictionary for the right words. ‘I like being in the... centre of things.’ I glanced through the window. ‘But I like it here, too. Birds singing in the garden – I don’t hear them in the city. And Pierre-la-Fontaine is perfect. Not too big. Not too small.’

She nodded. ‘Bigger is not always better.’

I couldn’t argue with her there.

When Dad realised Mum was driving me mad with her eagle eye and her interrogations between each task I performed as to why I needed to do this or help with that, he winked conspiratorially and whisked her off for an afternoon drive, gallantly offering to drive Madame Dupont home on the way – giving me extra kudos with the old lady for possessing such a considerate parent.

The phone rang as Rupert and I started on the guest meal, and since he was up to his elbows in flour, I went to answer it.

‘Emmy? It’s Sophie. I was so glad when I got your text. Would you like to go out for a drink or a meal this weekend?’

‘I’d love to, but my parents found out what happened and they arrived on Thursday for a long weekend, so...’

Sophie chuckled. ‘So you must spend time with them and show them you are perfectly fine?’

‘Exactly. I’m sorry. It would be lovely to see you again.’

‘No problem. I understand what parents are like. Especially when you present them with such a drama! Why don’t you phone me after the weekend?’

‘I will. Thanks for phoning, Sophie.’

‘You’re welcome! Good luck with your parents!’

‘Sophie again?’ Rupert asked. ‘Best friends already?’

I grinned. ‘Not quite. But I think we could have been, if we lived nearer. She’s kind and vivacious and...’ I made a face. ‘And disgustingly pretty, by the way.’

Rupert waggled his eyebrows. ‘In that case, maybe I could join you and this extremely attractive hairdresser for lunch sometime next week?’

I threw a chunk of courgette at him. ‘Forget it. She’s way too young for you. In fact, I think she’s probably a bit younger than me.’

Rupert winced. ‘Been there, done that. Won’t be doing it again.’

I glanced at him. ‘You’ll meet someone eventually.’

He leaned against the counter, his fingers covered in shortbread mixture. ‘You know, Emmy, I’m not convinced I want to bother with all that again.’

‘You’re just saying that because Gloria treated you so badly. But you’ll get over her. It may take time, but then you might feel like dating again and...’

Rupert shook his head. ‘I’m beginning to think I was a bachelor till I was fifty for a reason. Maybe I was meant to be on my own.’ He wafted his hand at me, dropping spots of flour mix at my feet. ‘And I’m not saying that to be melodramatic. I can be selfish and I want my own way a lot. That’s not an ideal quality in a relationship.’

‘Oh, and Gloria was the queen of selflessness, was she?’ I pointed my knife accusingly at him.

‘Certainly not. But maybe that’s the point. Maybe neither of us were really suited to wedded bliss. Anyway, I think I’ll be more than happy on my own for a while. As long as I have my friends to bitch and complain to – and about.’ He winked.

I forced a smile and attacked a large red pepper, imagining it was Gloria. Maybe Rupert was right – maybe he would be okay on his own. But I hated to think he might rule out the chance of future happiness with someone else just because of the way Gloria had behaved, stomping on his heart like that.