‘Darling,’ said Marina in her low, breathless voice. ‘How lovely to see you here. Not your usual type of place. You remember Dr Hayford?’ The tall African held out his hand as Marina turned towards Sarah, bestowing a dazzling smile in her direction. ‘Of course you and I met at your lovely house in Mombasa, and in Muthaiga. Are you living in London now?’

‘No. I’m over from Dublin for the Easter break,’ Sarah said, desperate to get through the minimum of polite words and be gone.

‘And you must be the brother.’ Marina turned her attention to Tim, reaching out to touch his arm and smiling at him. ‘You’re so alike. Weren’t you studying medicine? You must get Camilla to bring you both to the flat. Come for dinner. Or a drink.’

Piet stood beside Sarah, rigid with antagonism. She tried to find his hand but fumbled in an empty space as Marina focused on him for a fleeting moment and then looked away.

‘Mother. What a surprise.’ Pure hostility propelled Camilla’s greeting. ‘I don’t see Daddy around, but perhaps he wasn’t invited this evening. It’s so lovely to see you doing your bit for international harmony. Aren’t you going to say hello to Piet? I’m sure you can’t have forgotten Piet van der Beer.’

‘Don’t, Camilla, please.’ Sarah’s voice was low. Her throat was burning as though it was filled with fire, although she had begun to shiver. She moved towards Dr Hayford and looked at him, beseeching. ‘Are you here for a medical conference?’

‘No. I’ve been based in London for a while now.’ His expression was polite, neutral, although she detected sympathy and regret behind his large spectacles. ‘Marina, I think we should continue to Park Lane.’

‘Good evening, Mrs Broughton-Smith.’ Piet had stood his ground, and now he proffered his hand, forcing an acknowledgement.

But Marina made no attempt to respond, and Winston Hayford saw that she was determined to ignore the greeting. He grasped her elbow in an attempt to steer her towards the stairs, away from further confrontation. She glanced at him briefly and brushed his hand away.

‘I thought you had broken off any association with this young man, Camilla,’ she said. ‘I thought we all understood that.’

‘Well, Mother darling, you’ll have to think again.’ Anger reared up in Camilla’s head, obliterating everything around her. ‘Because Piet and I have decided to become engaged. We’re going to get married.’

In the chasm of silence that followed, Marina spun on her heel and walked away from them, her high heels clicking on the polished floor, Dr Hayford following in her wake. Sarah watched mesmerised as they reached the top of the stairs and stepped out into the night, away from the joyous, carefree evening they had ruined. She turned back to her friends, her pulse hammering out her anxiety.

Piet was staring at Camilla, his face radiant. He reached out to take her in his arms.