It was the promise that had changed Sarah’s resolve, and brought her to Nairobi after all. On the evening of her arrival she met Marina Broughton-Smith for the first time, and saw instantly the source of Camilla’s beauty. Mother and daughter had the same oval face framed by ash-blonde hair, the same blue eyes and smooth skin, the straight nose and perfectly shaped mouth. She’s pure Botticelli, Sarah thought, but sad. Marina’s hands seemed to be in constant motion, fluttering everywhere, lightly touching crystal vases and leather-bound books, resting for a fleeting moment on her pale hair, fingering the pearls around her neck. Her presence seemed to permeate the room and spread a rippling uncertainty around her. Her voice was light and slightly breathless and she smiled a great deal, but there was something in her eyes that spoke of a fragile soul.

‘I do hope you’ll enjoy your few days in Nairobi, my dear. It’s lovely that Camilla has brought a friend to stay. It’s Sally Mackay, isn’t it?’ Marina leaned forward and Sarah was reminded of photos of the Queen as she bent to accept a bouquet. ‘We have Scottish friends called Mackay, in Blairgowrie. Perhaps you’re related to them? We go there for the shooting, you know. At least we did before George got us stranded out here all the year round.’

‘Sarah – I’m called Sarah. We’re not related to that family. My parents are Irish. Not from Scotland at all, although maybe years back—’

‘Oh. I see. Irish. How interesting. So full of charm and lovely words, the Irish.’ Marina’s smile brightened and reached her eyes. She seemed, for some inexplicable reason, to be relieved. ‘We do have some Irish friends. Racing people in County Kildare. Perhaps your parents know the O’Dwyers’ stud farm? It’s a marvellous estate.’

‘My mother came from Sligo originally, and my father’s from County Monaghan.’ Sarah watched the subtle dimming of interest in Marina’s face as the likelihood of common ground faded. ‘I don’t think they were ever involved with breeding horses. But perhaps they did have—’

‘Sarah’s father is a doctor,’ Camilla said. ‘He deals with people rather than horses, Mother. You wouldn’t be terribly interested in that.’

Marina’s smile faded altogether and there was a sudden glittering in her eyes. Sarah looked away, embarrassed by the barbed remark, aware that Camilla had hurt her mother. Marina turned, like a wounded animal, drawing her shoulders forward.

‘County Monaghan. Ghastly little towns on that troublesome border. So grey and dreary. I drove through Sligo once, though, and that was rather wild and quaint, with Yeats and so on – quite lovely.’ She touched Sarah’s arm fleetingly, clearly anxious to be gone. ‘Well, I must rush, my dears. I have to be at the club by seven. Saidi can drop you at the cinema later, if you like.’