‘A plus tard, cherie,’ says Luis, as he leaves at some ungodly hour to go and lay a flagstone floor in Bordeaux with his compatriots.
I get up as soon as it is light and walk Biff by the ruins of the chateau. As he is flipped into the air by a black dog three times his size - but still goes back for more - I sit under a linden tree in the coppery autumn sunshine and think how strange life is.
Falling for Luis was never part of the plan - at least not a few months ago when I was threatening him with the gendarmes if he didn’t turn his music down.
The only thing that connects us is the spark of physical attraction - though some would say that you can go a long way with that - and the fact that, one summer, we found ourselves in the same French village at the same time, living next door to each other.