Camilla had stopped to greet a couple at a corner table and Sarah passed her, following Piet through a low archway and on to the dance floor. She glanced around at the other couples. Some were in formal suits or evening dress, but there were also men in jeans and black polo-neck sweaters, and women wearing ropes of ethnic beads and gauzy skirts that swirled around their ankles. On the opposite edge of the small floor she saw a black man, moving with slow grace to the music. His back was turned to her, and he was holding his partner in an intimate embrace, so that only the jewelled fingers she had wound around his neck were visible. Their bodies were fused together in a sensuous, swaying motion and as they drifted towards her Sarah realised, with a shock, that she had seen him before. She looked away quickly, feeling it would be better not to show any sign of recognition. There were too many complicated associations and she did not want them to contaminate the pleasure of her own evening. But it was too late. Dr Winston Hayford had noticed her. He stiffened in surprise and summoned a smile of greeting with obvious effort, as Sarah stared at the perfect face and form of his companion. Camilla was making her way towards them, her expression at first reflecting surprise and then outrage.

‘Darling,’ said Marina in her low, breathless voice. ‘How lovely to see you here. Not your usual type of place. You remember Dr Hayford?’ The tall African held out his hand as Marina turned towards Sarah, bestowing a dazzling smile in her direction. ‘Of course you and I met at your lovely house in Mombasa, and in Muthaiga. Are you living in London now?’

‘No. I’m over from Dublin for the Easter break,’ Sarah said, desperate to get through the minimum of polite words and be gone.

‘And you must be the brother.’ Marina turned her attention to Tim, reaching out to touch his arm and smiling at him. ‘You’re so alike. Weren’t you studying medicine? You must get Camilla to bring you both to the flat. Come for dinner. Or a drink.’

Piet stood beside Sarah, rigid with antagonism. She tried to find his hand but fumbled in an empty space as Marina focused on him for a fleeting moment and then looked away.

‘Mother. What a surprise.’ Pure hostility propelled Camilla’s greeting. ‘I don’t see Daddy around, but perhaps he wasn’t invited this evening. It’s so lovely to see you doing your bit for international harmony. Aren’t you going to say hello to Piet? I’m sure you can’t have forgotten Piet van der Beer.’