‘Maybe I should wear a tie?’ he murmured. ‘Did Adam say to wear a tie?’ Nicole asked. ‘No.’ ‘Then don’t bother. Did you get the wine from our cellar?’ He lifted it out of the umbrella stand. ‘Château Curé Bon la Madeleine. We must bring back more of this next year.’ Lena-such-a-sad-case came out of their kitchen. ‘Enjoy the meal,’ she said. ‘I doubt it,’ Tony replied. ‘You’ve not yet had the pleasure of Sally’s cooking. Don’t wait up. And’ – he turned on Fifi and Xupé, their two dogs – ‘you behave yourselves!’ It was one of those summer evenings when the overcast sky is so low and the air so warm and still that ‘outdoors’ feels more like a large room than truly open air. ‘I was picking up lightning flashes on long wave,’ he said as they crossed the brief expanse of lawn that separated them from the Wilsons. Just as Adam – wearing a tie – opened the door to them they heard the first distant rumble of thunder. ‘Did Bob solder the strap of the lightning conductor back on that rod?’ he asked them.
