“So, you are on ’oliday?” she asked, heaping slices of bacon onto Sir Peter’s plate.
“Not really. We are looking for some friends of ours – perhaps you know of them – a Monsieur and Madame Solange?”
“Ah, Solange, Solange –“ she muttered, “there is a son, n’est-ce pas? A terrible boy. A friend of mine told me that he has scandalised the whole of Biarritz with his, ’ow you say, behaviour.”
Sir Peter cast a worried look at Marina who had suddenly lost interest in her plate of eggs and bacon.
“Yes,” continued Madame Boucheron, “the boy ’as ’ad to come to Biarritz to escape ’is angry women! Promised to marry two girls and then ran off leaving them. Cochon!” she spat, “and now, ’e parade ’is new Italian fiancée along ze promenade!”
She banged down the pan and plonked herself down on a stool
