She did not look round as the taxi vanished into the veil of rain. Inside the flat she hobbled to her mother’s bedroom. Marina had not moved at all and Camilla sat down for a few minutes beside the bed and took her hand. The nurse murmured an assurance and said something kindly about catching one’s death of cold, with wet hair and shoes. In the bathroom Camilla inspected her ankle as she stripped off her sodden clothes. It was throbbing and swollen and she groaned with frustration, knowing she would have to ring Tom in the morning and tell him she had sprained her foot, anticipating his exasperation. She turned on the taps, pouring half a bottle of perfumed oil into the tub. The flat was very warm, but Camilla found herself shivering as she lay back in the water, willing herself to relax. The image of Giles Hannington would not go away. It was clear that he had his hooks into her father and that he was not about to let go. No doubt he imagined his future would be secure once Marina was dead, and he had George’s undivided attention. Maybe he was a blackmailer, already living off his victim’s fear of discovery. He was good-looking and well spoken, and Camilla wondered if he was an out-of-work actor or some such thing. Her father must be his meal ticket, probably paying for the hours when he met the boy, to play out his sordid desires. Perhaps Giles Hannington was only one of many such liasions in George’s life. Her throat closed and she felt panic rise in her. She stepped out of the bath and hobbled into the kitchen to put on some hot milk. In bed she lay and listened to the unrelenting rain, raging at her father and his lover, resenting her mother’s illness and the position it had put her in, and above all despising herself.

‘I’ve done something to my ankle,’ she said to Tom Bartlett the next morning.

‘Oh, for God’s sake, Camilla,’ he exploded. ‘Can you walk at all? The jewellery thing has been confirmed. Can you get to the magazine interview this afternoon?’

‘Yes. It’s only a sprain. I’m going to get it strapped up now, and then I’ll be reasonably mobile, I think.’

‘All right. I’ll phone Good Housekeeping and let them know.’

‘Good Housekeeping? That’s a laugh.’