‘I’m Saul Greenberg. I’m in the rag trade.’ A large man with a handsome, fleshy face had joined them. ‘Has Tom told you about the deal?’ He had an open, good-tempered expression and grey hair that had been cut very short, so that he looked as though a forest of toothbrushes was growing out of his head. His suit was well tailored and made from expensive silk, although it was a little tight. He sounded American, but Camilla was not sure.

‘No, Tom hasn’t told me anything,’ Camilla said. ‘I don’t want to seem rude, but I’m not interested in talking about a business proposal tonight. I’m not here on business. Strictly off duty. In the new year perhaps we—’

He simply ignored her snub. ‘I’d like to start a dress label, using your name. Have you do all the pictures for the range, get the clothes into the main American department stores. I have another company, and a partner in the United States that’s mad for this deal. I’m from New York originally, but I’ve been in London for twenty years. It’s big bucks for you, with generous modelling fees and a cut of all the sales. The clothes are all ready to go for the spring season, so I need to know right away if you’re interested. I need to have everything ready to roll after the holidays. I thought we could meet tomorrow morning and discuss this.’

Tom had placed a hand on her arm, squeezing hard, hurting her and leaving a red mark on her skin.

‘It could be an interesting project for you, Camilla,’ he said. ‘Saul would like us to come to his office and warehouse tomorrow, so that he can take us around. Show us the lines he already does and the quality of the stuff. They’re designed for the budget market. Made for this whole idea of buying up-to-date clothes cheaply, and being able to replace them twice as often. We’re talking about hundreds of thousands of garments here, and the advertising to go with them.’

‘I’m going to the country in the morning,’ she said. ‘I’ll be there until after the new year.’

‘You could go down in the afternoon. Straight after lunch.’ Tom was glaring at her.

‘Sure you could,’ said Greenberg affably. ‘I have a car and driver that can take you anywhere. But I’d like a couple of hours in the morning, to talk this over with you guys. I’m flying to New York tomorrow night.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Camilla said. ‘After Christmas, maybe.’

She turned her back on them both and drifted away to join a small group standing in a fog of sweet-smelling smoke. As she accepted the joint and pulled on it, she heard Tom’s angry voice in her ear.