From Paris, With Love. Samantha Tonge

Dollar Mansion, Applebridge Hall’s secure financial future is guaranteed.’

      Chest glowing, I linked arms with him, as we all ambled into pedestrianised Rue de la Huchette, filing past restaurants. It was like turning a radio-dial and catching fragments of different music – like Greek-sounding guitars (I know that from the movie Mamma Mia!) and Chinese string music (the same as in our local Peking Duck restaurant, near Applebridge). Staff outside did their best to lure unsuspecting tourists through the doors, yet didn’t approach us, thanks to the glares of Monique and her posse.

      ‘Merde, eet ees so tacky ‘ere,’ spat Anton. ‘If eet wasn’t for our favourite restaurant down ‘ere on the left, and ze cool jazz bars, I would ‘appily avoid zees street forever.’

      Their favourite restaurant turned out to be a basic French one. A good choice, I thought, as an hour later I tucked into a yummy chicken casserole. The windows steamed and wine flowed amongst Edward and Monique’s friends – whereas I had an orange juice and she a sparkling mineral water.

      With her shiny bobbed hair, Chantale looked sleek in black trousers, a loose grey top and plum silk scarf around her neck. Danielle wore a floral dress with a scarlet belt. Even though my appearance was a titch more sophisticated after last year’s training, I still felt conspicuous in my dangly Eiffel Tower earrings, tight jeans and shimmer lipstick. I smiled inside at the chestnut leather jacket Edward wore. It was a rite of passage, every bloke buying that item for his wardrobe – except most splashed out in their teens, not their early thirties. Having been brought up in stuffy clothes, under my supervision Edward was playing catch-up.

      ‘So, Gemma…’ said Monique, in her impressive English accent cutting through my thoughts on Edward’s dress sense. I jumped – the group’s conversation had been switching between French and English, so I’d given up trying to follow every word. Although I was pleased for Edward – it was clear just how much he adored trying to speak a foreign language. I was less pleased that Monique’s hand had remained on Edward’s arm for most of the meal. I put down my knife and fork.