‘I’d like to see you before you rush off to New York, Camilla. I’m so thankful you’re safe.’ Marina sounded on the brink of tears. ‘The Express said it was a robbery, and someone was shot. I’m just so grateful it wasn’t you.’

‘I’m not going to New York, Mother. I have a cut on my face from the raid, and I have to get it seen to before I go back to work. Otherwise I’m fine.’

‘Oh God. Oh my God, Camilla, are you all right? You must be in a state of shock. I’ve just got in from the cottage in Burford, but I’m coming over right now, darling. Right this minute.’

‘No. No, Mother, please, I don’t need—’

But the phone had already gone dead. Camilla made a mental resolution to remain aloof, calm, disconnected from the hysteria that was approaching like a hurricane in full force. She went into the bathroom, opened the mirrored cabinet above the basin and took another yellow pill. A magic little thing that would help her to stay unruffled, to survive Marina’s visit. She wished she had been able to speak to her father, to confide her inability to shake off the whole, terrifying experience. She wanted desperately to hear his voice at least, and to have him comfort her when she confessed her aching disappointment over her love affair. It did not occur to her for a moment that she might talk about any of these feelings with her mother. In the mirror her face looked strained and she squared her shoulders and closed her eyes for a moment, searching for balance. When the doorbell rang she was ready. Marina was out of breath, her face very pale, small beads of moisture on her forehead and upper lip.

‘Perhaps you could get me a glass of water, darling. Three flights of stairs is ridiculous.’ She embraced her daughter briefly. ‘I’ll never understand why you stay in this flat. I could help you find something much more suitable, if you set aside a few days to—’

‘Not now, Mother, please. I don’t want to talk about flats right now.’

‘Of course you don’t. How silly of me.’ Marina sat down and closed her eyes for a moment. ‘I want to hear everything, and I want to see your forehead. Then we’ll decide what to do. Why don’t we have some coffee, and then you can tell me exactly what happened and how you feel now.’