‘A car’s coming to take us down to the bay,’ said Pete, as we made our way down to the hotel lobby. Two minutes later, a maroon and beige vintage Bentley rolled up. It was straight out of the days of the Raj. ‘Is that for us?’ I asked.

Marcia nodded. ‘We’re going in style. I thought it might sweeten the experience for you.’

‘Blackmail,’ I said, ‘I like it.’

Marcia laughed. ‘I wanted to make sure you came.’

The car took us a short distance to a car park by the lakeshore, where we got out to see a tall Indian man, in a white turban and Eastern-style gold uniform, holding a large fringed red parasol. He was waiting to escort us into a white tent. ‘Your boat is ready,’ he said as he led us through and down to the water. Minutes later, we took our places in a small speedboat, which was open on the sides and canopied on the top, the seats inside scattered with colourful cushions.

‘I really do feel like I’m in a Bond film now,’ I said as the boat whooshed through the water to the hotel. Looking back at the shore gave us the best view of the City Palace so far: with its domed turrets, terraces and balconies, it was a truly magnificent piece of architecture.

Our boat arrived at a small jetty, where another Indian man, this one in a red turban and navy uniform, stepped forward to help us up onto the marble landing area at the front of the hotel. A red carpet led to the reception area, which we could see behind a glass wall. From an open balcony on the floor above came a shower of rose petals. I looked up to see the faces of two smiling Indian women. ‘Welcome,’ they said, as they scattered more petals down on us.

We stepped through an open door where three smiling ladies in emerald green saris were waiting. They came forward and placed garlands of golden flowers around our necks. One of them introduced herself as Adita. She reached down to a brass tray on a small table behind her, then dotted red powder on our foreheads. The other ladies handed each of us an iced pink drink in tall glasses. ‘Passion fruit,’ said one of them, ‘you will like.’

As I looked around me, I could see that the décor of the hotel was a mix of old and new, with marble floors, white arches and pillars and tall gold Indian statues placed in alcoves along a corridor in front of us.

‘You here for Saranya Ji?’ asked Adita.

‘We are,’ Pete replied, and he handed her our vouchers.