‘Look,’ she said, ‘I know the light is grey. And it’s probably going to rain the whole time we’re here. So why don’t we take advantage of this dismal weather? Make a feature of it.’

‘Very funny,’ Ricky said, downing his drink in one gulp. ‘What have you got in mind then, darlin’? Shoot the whole bloody thing under an umbrella, or what?’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Something like that. For example, with some of the sweaters I could get them soaking wet, so they really stick to me – so you can see there’s nothing underneath, I mean. The wool will take on the shape of me, nipples and all. Jumpers will suddenly be oozing sex. The colours are really bright, so they’ll look brilliant against a grey sky and all those miles of misty fields. I can put masses of oil in my hair and plaster it into a slick shape against my face, as though I’ve been standing out in the rain for hours. Waiting for someone who’s never going to turn up. We’ll have huge kohl eyes, maybe allow the black to run down my cheeks. And impossible eyelashes with very bright lips. The flat light will show it all up brilliantly. A sort of “girl abandoned” theme. Lost in the rain. Bare feet even. The clothes will tell a whole story.’

‘You’ll catch your bloody death of cold,’ Ricky said, but he was laughing like a maniac, rubbing his hands together. ‘It’s bloody brilliant. That’s what it is.’

‘Just as well one of us has brains. Get ready to pay my medical bills,’ Camilla said. ‘And in the meantime you can buy me another drink.’

Driving back to London after the shoot Camilla was tired, positive that she would never rid herself of the damp that had permeated her entire body as she posed in the rain, barefoot and shivering in empty fields, on horseback and at the village bus stop, with the bright clothes making their bold statement. When Ricky dropped her outside her flat, she ran up the stairs, anticipating an hour in a steaming bath. She was surprised to find a note from Anthony Chapman among her piles of mail, and she telephoned him immediately.

‘What on earth are you doing here?’ she asked

‘Big sales trip. I’ve been phoning you non-stop, for the last forty-eight hours. Where were you, Camilla? I’m leaving in three days for New York. What about coming to my slide presentation tonight? One of my clients in Cadogan Square is laying on an evening for a few chums who might like to go on safari. You could help me chat them up.’