“Where did you say you were, Looby?” Lucy could imagine her Dad’s brow furrowing as he tried to imagine her location.
“Grasse.” She repeated. “About 25 kilometres inland from Cannes.”
“What’s that in miles? You’ve gone all metric on me.”
“It’s not far, Dad. Anyway, I rang to wish you a happy birthday, not give you a geography lesson on the South of France. How is your day? Is Mum spoiling you?”

Lucy was sitt...