Not Langham. A Moroccan man in a pristine brocade robe was staring at me.

‘Hello,’ I tried in my best English. ‘I am looking for Señor Langham?’

‘Have you an invitation?’ he replied in French.

‘I,’ I stuttered. ‘No, but I know him—’

‘Yes, and we’ve been before,’ the woman interrupted, leaning on my arm. ‘Miss Dolores Moberly and friends. Your master is sure to remember.’

The man’s face didn’t change. Beyond him I saw lights twinkling through trees, windows shining. I stepped forwards.

‘No admittance without an invitation,’ the man said.

‘Wait!’

The door slammed, a bolt slid, and we were out in the dust of the street once more.

‘How rude!’ Dolores slurred. ‘To send a servant to lock us out.’

‘You said yourself it was the devil’s work to get in,’ the blond man muttered, lighting a cigarette. ‘Let’s go to The Grand instead.’

I said nothing. I had to get in. I had to see Langham. If I could talk to him, just for a second … I took a step back.

‘Alejandro?’ Dolores asked.

I ran for the wall, leaping for the wooden trellis that supported the jasmine. Stems broke under my weight, the smell of flowers and crushed greenery swamping me as I hauled myself upwards, shoes scraping at the whitewash. With a burst of effort I managed to sling one arm over the top, then the other, then a leg. I caught a glimpse of Dolores, her mouth hanging open, before the branches sagged under my weight, sending me tumbling ten feet to the ground the other side.

For a few seconds I lay stunned, lungs flattened by the fall, hat knocked askew. When the air rushed back into my chest, it brought the scent of a garden, ferns and lilies and the sweetness of mint, crushed beneath me. Wincing, I pushed myself to my feet.

‘Alejandro?’ I heard Dolores calling beyond the gate. ‘Are you all right?’

I never answered her.

The house stood surrounded by its gardens, softly white and draped in shadows. Windows looked down from the highest floors like half-closed eyes, their wooden shutters carved with stars. Below, doors were thrown wide, muslin curtains swept back, lights creeping on tiles until I couldn’t tell what was inside and what was out. From the other side of the house came the sound of the party, piano notes drifting in the lantern-lit trees.