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‘Don’t say that,’ I said. ‘You two look great together.’

‘On the outside, maybe. I think we both thought that getting married would give us a new lease of life. That it would be a new start. Silly, really. As if having a piece of paper declaring us husband and wife was going to miraculously eradicate the things that annoyed us about each other. If anything, it’s pulled us further apart. He doesn’t want to do anything together anymore and would be perfectly content falling asleep in front of Netflix on his own every night. We don’t talk about anything, ever.’

‘I can’t imagine being with someone for fifteen years,’ I admitted. ‘My longest relationship has been five and it felt a bit like that for us.’

‘Exactly. And shall I tell you what weddings do for you?’ said Claire. ‘They put you in massive debt, that’s what. Ten grand it cost us. Which is partly why I’m determined not to get divorced. All that wasted money! All those gifts our guests spent their hard-earned cash on.’

‘That’s certainly one reason to try everything you can to stay together,’ I agreed, prodding at a button to slow the treadmill down. It was official, I could not run and talk at the same time.

‘So I had the bright idea that couples therapy and a trip to the French Riviera might put a bit of sparkle back into our marriage. Big mistake. Rob’s an accountant and keeps banging on about how over-priced everything is. Last night he even got his Excel spreadsheet out!’

The treadmill ground to a halt, thankfully, and I stepped off it, relieved that that particular form of torture was over.

‘Mission accomplished,’ I said, wiping my mildly sweaty forehead with the sleeve of my hoodie.

‘Fancy a coffee?’ suggested Claire.

With zero qualms about having spent a total of fifteen minutes in the gym between us, we headed out to thegarden, grabbing a cappuccino each from the machine on the way through the dining room. None of our lot were around, except for Justin and Renee who seemed to be hell-bent on working their way through a plate of croissants. We gave them a wave and carried on outside, where the sun was already beating down on the grass and the air smelled fresh, like lemons and sea.

‘It’s gorgeous here, isn’t it, that’s one good thing,’ said Claire, plonking herself down in a chair and stretching out her legs. ‘If nothing else, we’ve had a nice holiday. Nothing lost, I suppose. Except I’m not really sure where to go from here if this doesn’t work. How to make things better.’

My instinct to fix things for everybody was instantly activated and despite me trying to rationalise the situation (i.e. it was Melissa’s job to help them, not mine; I had enough problems of my own with a book to write and Theo in the room next door etc.) I couldn’t help myself.

‘Can I do anything?’ I asked, a question I found myself asking at least three times a day on average. I’d discovered, over the years, that I felt compelled to put other people first, which was actually quite satisfying, it turned out. People needed me, and in a way that validated me. It was nice to assume that people couldn’t possibly live without me. I mean, they probably could, but at the very least, I took it upon myself to make life a little easier for them. They usually (but not always) appreciated it.

Claire sighed dramatically. ‘I can’t imagine what. Although any help would be very gratefully received. Don’t tell me you were a marriage counsellor before you were a writer?’

It wasn’t a bad idea, actually, in fact I’d surprised myself by not going into a caring profession. When I was little I’d wanted to be a nurse until I’d seen sense and realised that since I was scared of blood and couldn’t deal with bodilyfluids full stop, I would make an absolutely terrible one. There were some aspects of the job I thought I would have enjoyed. Imagine making people’s lives better (or trying to at least) every single day. Although I’d convinced myself I was doing that with my books, anyway: distracting people from their real lives. Cracking them up with a funny line or two when they felt sad, or making them feel seen when they read a storyline that resonated with them. It was why I’d started writing in the first place, to entertain other people. I used to make up stories for my siblings when they were little and I’d been quite good at it. Except that the success ofLittle Boy Lostnotwithstanding, being a published author was harder and more stressful than I ever could have imagined.

‘So tell me,’ I said. ‘What’s your main issue with Rob? What are you hoping he’ll change?’

‘Easy,’ said Claire. ‘I want him to give the therapy thing a go, that’s all. He’s so defensive and resistant, constantly moaning that he doesn’t need it and that the whole thing is a placebo and who needs to talk about every single feeling they have? He says it’s no fun.’

‘I mean, he’s not wrong,’ I said.

Claire gave me a look.

‘But it’s different for me,’ I added hastily. ‘I didn’t sign up for this. But I totally would have done if I was in a relationship that wasn’t quite working.’

‘You are in a relationship that isn’t quite working,’ said Claire.

I shook my head. ‘Friendships don’t count.’

‘Says who?’

‘Anyway,’ I said. ‘We were talking about you and Rob. I think we need to show him that couples retreats aren’t all about therapy. We’re in the South of France, there’s loads to do.’

‘Such as . . .?’

‘Drinking,’ I said, plucking something out of mid-air. ‘Walks on the beach. Or is he into sports, because I saw a tennis club not far from here when I went out for a walk yesterday morning.’

Claire perked up. ‘He used to love tennis. Joined a club and everything.’

‘There we go. Let’s organise a friendly mixed doubles match. Get our juices flowing. Show him how much fun Cannes can be.’

Claire looked at me with concern. ‘Do you think Theo would be up for it, though? Does he even like tennis?’

I shrugged. ‘Don’t ask me. But even if he doesn’t play, what could be nicer than a casual knockabout in the sun?’