As she stands at the window, the spring sunshine streaming in, Mathilde reflects on the opportunities before her: it's April 1968 and Morocco is changing. Looking out at her garden, the roses - brought in from Marrakech - have bloomed and their sweet, fresh scent pervades the garden. The world is opening up and anything feels possible. Work on the pool has just begun and she imagines diving in to cool off from the summer's baking heat.

Indecency. That's her husband's word for it, the flagrant display of