‘You seem to have conveniently forgotten that I was in love with someone else, very recently. You can’t turn love off like a tap, or change lovers as you would change your shirt. Well, I can’t anyway.’ She saw the shock in his eyes and was grimly pleased to have wounded him. ‘Edward is a doctor who’s going to fix my face. And he’s old enough to be my father, as he pointed out himself.’

‘Did he now? So this has already come up?’ He was smiling a little, trying to encourage her to confide in him. But her face froze in resentment and he realised with sadness that he could not tease her yet. First he had to regain her love and respect, and he was a long way from that. ‘Well, we definitely have to cancel the drinks party. And then we’ll see. I said we’d discuss Burford later and she seemed happy with that. She’s going to rest for an hour or so, and then get up for dinner.’

Camilla reached for her coat. ‘Will you phone around and cancel your chums then? I need to go out for a while. Mrs Maskell has everything ready for dinner tonight.’

He looked at her with sorrow, aware that she had no desire to be alone with him. ‘Yes, I’ll do that. And I’ll see you later. For dinner perhaps?’

She had nowhere to go, and she wandered among the hordes of shoppers as they wrestled with cumbersome packages and searched for last-minute gifts, or prayed for an empty taxi. The shops were crowded and the insistent blinking of Christmas decorations spilled out on to the pavements to create random patches of light on dragging feet. Camilla had no present for her father, nor could she think of anything she wanted to buy for him. But it would be bad for all of them if he were to receive no gift on Christmas morning, so she made her way into an expensive shop and chose a silver hip flask in a calfskin cover, and an Italian leather flight bag that he could use on his endless comings and goings. Or on his overnight stays with his lover. When she returned to the flat she found Marina dressed and sitting on the sofa, a drink in her hand. Her face was waxen, but her eyes were bright as she greeted Camilla.

‘Darling, there’s a glass of champagne for you. We’re celebrating because Daddy’s arranged everything beautifully. We’re going to Burford tomorrow. Around twelve, because it takes me an age to get myself together these days. Will you help me to pack a few things tonight?’