‘I don’t know how they found me here,’ she said angrily. ‘I can’t leave. They’re like vultures picking at a carcass. I was going to do some shopping and then meet Edward later, and now I can’t go anywhere. They’ve ruined my whole day.’

‘Darling, the porter will let you out through the service entrance. Don’t worry. But I’m so sorry. It must have brought back all those terrible memories.’

Camilla sat on the side of the bed. ‘Mother, what did you see in the file that night? About Jan van der Beer?’

‘Oh, Camilla.’ Marina’s eyes filled with tears. ‘I should never have brought up that matter, and I’ve felt terrible about it ever since. I was jealous, because you loved them all so much more than you ever loved me. But all that is past, and I don’t want to think about it any more, darling. Let’s only think of the good things now.’ She brushed her eyes with her fingers and a sob rose in her throat, setting off a hacking cough that left her exhausted and unable to speak.

‘It’s all right, Mother. And it’s true. It doesn’t matter any more,’ Camilla said. ‘Would you like me to read something to you?’

Later in the afternoon Camilla looked out of the window again. The reporters were still there. She sighed and picked up the telephone to explain her quandary to Edward.

‘They were outside my rooms earlier,’ he said. ‘My staff are accustomed to seeing them off, when some celebrity needs to come here for a consultation without being seen. Why don’t I come round there in an hour or so? We’ll have supper with George and Marina, and then go home. It’s not what we’d planned, but I’ll be with you at least.’

She was grateful, and even more so when he insisted that she take a shoot in Rome for three days.

‘I’ll go and see Marina while you’re away,’ he promised. ‘Have dinner with George. I think you should go, darling. Take a breather.’

She was in Rome when the call came.

‘Your mother’s in the hospital,’ George said. ‘I think you should come back, Camilla. It won’t be long. She’s very weak but peaceful, and she’s not in pain.’

Marina lay very quiet in the hospital bed, her husband sitting beside her. She had insisted that the nurse bring her a mirror and her make-up.

‘Put some of this foundation on. I’m too pale. And lipstick too.’ She looked at the results as George held up the hand mirror. Then she smiled.

‘Camilla’s coming home,’ she said faintly. ‘I want to be pretty. I want her to remember me as being pretty.’