When they had gone off along the path, the man on the seat said to his companion, ‘Couldn’t you really see that girl was the image of you?’

‘I’ve already told you, no.’

‘Of course you look a good deal older and harder, I’ll give you that.’

‘Thank you.’

‘But you’re almost her double. Take away a dozen years and a dozen love affairs, and you’d be her double.’

‘Stephen, if you’re trying to start another row, just say so and I’ll go home.’

‘I’m not starting anything. I’m fascinated by an extraordinary phenomenon. Holland Park’s known to be a strange place. There’s a legend you can see your own double there.’

‘I never heard that.’

‘Nevertheless my dear Zoe, it is so.

‘“The Magus, Zoroaster, my dead child,

Saw his own image walking in the garden.”’

‘Who said that?’

‘Shelley. Superstition has it that if you see your own image you die within the year.’

She turned slowly to look at him. ‘Do you want me to die within the year, Stephen?’

He laughed. ‘Oh, you won’t die. You didn’t see her, she saw you. And it frightened her. He was taking her photograph, did you see? I wish I’d asked him to take one of you two together. Why don’t we see if we can catch them up?’

‘You know, you have a sick imagination.’

‘No, only a healthy curiosity. Come along now, if we walk fast we’ll catch them up by the gate.’

‘If it amuses you,’ said Zoe.

Peter and Lisa didn’t see the other couple approaching. They were walking with their arms round each other, and Peter had managed to distract her from the subject of her double by talking of their wedding plans. At the northern gate someone behind him called out, ‘Excuse me!’ and he turned to see the man who had been sitting on the seat.

‘Yes?’ he said rather stiffly.

‘I expect you’ll think this is frightful cheek, but I saw you back there and I was absolutely – well, struck by the likeness between my girl friend and the young lady with you. There is a terrific likeness, isn’t there?’

‘I don’t see it,’ said Peter, not daring to look at Lisa. What a beastly thing to happen! He felt dismay. ‘Frankly, I don’t see any resemblance at all.’

‘Oh, but you must. Look, what I want is for you to do me an enormous favour and take a picture of them together. Will you? Do say you will.’

Peter was about to refuse, and not politely, when Lisa said, ‘Why not? Of course he will. It’s such a funny coincidence, we ought to have a record of it.’

‘Good girl! We’d better introduce ourselves then, hadn’t we? I’m Stephen Davidson and this is Zoe Conti.’

‘Lisa Cleasant and Peter Milton,’ said Peter, still half-stunned by Lisa’s warm response.

‘Hallo, Lisa and Peter. Lovely to know you. Now you two girls go and stand over there in that spot of sunshine . . .’