Sally imagined that on her daughter’s City pay there might be quite a few places she could have gone. But Marianne was still carrying on, while Sally hung up her coat.

‘Then I thought, you know, if I hopped it to the Maldives or somewhere, it would look so awful. But coming home to see your mother. Well . . . I knew that one would look fine.’

Sally gulped. This did not sound good. ‘Marianne? What have you done exactly?’

‘I just lost so much money in a deal, you wouldn’t believe it. It’s practically a Lehman Brothers situation. So I’m in hiding. And to warn you – if the press arrive on the doorstep, I’m not here.’

Press! Oh lord. Sally really couldn’t cope with this.

She needed to be alone and quiet. She had so many lines to learn for tomorrow and, on top of that, a five o’clock start. She mumbled her excuses: ‘I have to go to bed, darling.’

‘No, Mum. Seriously, I’ve got to tell you all about it.’ Marianne glanced at her watch. ‘Anyway, since when did you go to bed at nine-thirty?’

Sally sat down.

She yawned.

Even if he had not bellowed his name at the girl behind the reception desk of the Hotel Astra, Theresa would have known Roger Muffett the moment he entered the cramped lobby. Tanned, with a crumpled white linen suit and panama hat, he had the look of a man who might be wearing a medallion.

Theresa had waited, with her daughter, in this entrance hall since around three-thirty. They sat in two faux-leather armchairs either side of a table laid out with brochures advertising local attractions. Theresa had suggested waiting in Imogen’s room and relying on the hotel staff to alert her of their arrival, but now Imogen would have nothing of it. She wanted to be there on the spot when Chloe arrived. And it was earlier than they expected.

Imogen leaped to her feet and strode up to Roger. ‘Where is my daughter?’

For such a confident and burly man, Theresa was surprised to see him flinch at her daughter’s challenge.

‘Now look, Mrs Firbank . . .’ He held his hands up in front of his torso in a gesture of self-defence. ‘Honest Injun, I knew nothing about this . . . I . . .’

‘You had no idea that your own son was living with my daughter in your little boat . . .’

‘It’s not such a little boat, actually, but no. I didn’t have a bloody clue. They’ve both been very duplicitous. Is that the right word? What I really mean is they’re lying scum . . .’

‘Enough excuses.’ Imogen shot him a dangerous look. ‘Where is she?’

‘I rented a car and drove them here.’ Roger warily lifted an arm and pointed towards the front door.

Imogen strode past him out into the street, Theresa trotted along at her heels.