At the reception, the man behind the desk gazed at her with suspicion, his head shrinking to the size of a pea, his voice squeaking as he reached out his hand and took the banknotes that Roberto pushed into his palm. In the bedroom she began to shake with fear as the pictures on the wall expanded and flew towards her. She rocked back and forth on the edge of her bed, pressing her hands over her eyes to rid herself of the demons that had invaded her brain. It was suddenly clear to her that she must escape, and she jumped up and rushed to the window. Her hands were clammy and her fingers fumbled and slipped as she wrestled with the window latch, rattling the handles and banging her fists against the panes of glass until one side swung open and she climbed up and sat with her legs hanging over the sill. She was aware that Roberto was clutching at her arm, talking to her, pleading with her not to jump. Neither of them heard the soft click as the connecting door opened.

‘What on earth is—?’ Marina scanned the room. ‘Oh! Dear God, please help me now. Please, just this once, don’t let me down.’ She moved across the room, trying to keep her steps measured and calm and smooth. ‘Come in now, darling,’ she said, her voice low. ‘It’s terribly cold out there. Come down, Camilla. I’m here to look after you. I’m going to help you into bed, because it’s very late, darling. So come to bed. Please.’

No one moved. Camilla sat poised on the window sill, her arms spread out as if for flight, gazing out at the domes and spires and chimneys of the city, heedless of the traffic in the street below or the soft pleading behind her.

‘Have you had any of this, whatever it is?’ Marina turned to Roberto, her voice iron-hard with hatred. He shook his head and she gripped his arm. ‘Get out,’ she hissed. ‘Get out of here without making a sound, and never contact my daughter again. And understand that neither of us will ever talk about this to anyone, least of all to your unfortunate parents.’

Interminable minutes passed before Camilla reached down and clutched at her mother’s outstretched hand. Marina clasped her fingers and talked on, her tone light and soothing, until at last Camilla swung her legs slowly into the bedroom, and allowed herself to be guided into bed.