They stepped out of the faded grandeur and gloomy half-light of the interior, on to an open terrace that overlooked the gardens. The central feature was a fountain, out of which rose the figure of a young man, naked and beautiful, astride a lion whose stony mane had been slowly worn away by centuries of splashing water. Lunch had been set out beneath the umbrella pines on the edge of the lawn and a handful of people were standing in the sunshine, drinking champagne. The late-autumn sun danced on the glitter of glass and china, and on heavy bowls of fruit and flowers that filled the long table. Roberto raised a hand to wave at them and then ran up the steps to lead Marina down into the garden, glancing over his shoulder at Camilla with an expression of undisguised lust. She was laughing as Franco Santini made introductions, and pleased when she saw that several of the guests were her own generation. After a few hesitant sentences her Italian returned, smooth and fluent, and she found herself relaxed among Roberto’s friends who responded to her in the way of the Italians she had known in Florence, during her year of art and language studies. Their uninhibited enjoyment and willingness to celebrate with her was infectious, and she felt resilient and uplifted.

Lunch was long and languorous. Marina ate very little, but seemed to have no trouble with the champagne and the wines that were constantly replenished by a white-gloved butler. She was in her element, turning her head in the deliberately artful way that Camilla knew so well, flirting with the men in the party, making witty remarks in her light, breathless voice. She looked as though she had not a care in the world, as if life had treated her with astonishing generosity, heaping on her indiscriminately the gifts of beauty and intelligence and riches of every kind. It was almost six in the evening when the last birthday toasts had been made, and coffee cups and brandy glasses littered the table. Stoles and jackets had been placed around the women’s shoulders as the light faded, making a sombre silhouette of the trees, casting long, slanting shadows across the grass. Camilla shivered.

‘Now we will leave the old ones,’ Roberto said. ‘Come with me, and I will show you Rome without the dinosaurs.’

Claudia nodded her encouragement. ‘Go with Roberto. I will drive Marina to the hotel, and we will sit together for a while. When she is tired I will help her into bed.’