‘You can stay in the guest cottage – it’s ready for you. It’s where David and I lived while we were building the house on the island.’ She turned her head and said to the servant, ‘Show Mr Kemp to the cottage.’

She jumped lightly into the boat and looked back. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow, Bill.’ Then she cast off and the boat curved away into the darkness.

I looked after it thoughtfully and turned to find the servant looking at me with veiled amusement. There wasn’t much I could do about that, so I said, ‘Lead on, MacDuff.’

‘The name is Raymond, sir,’ he said. ‘This way.’

Whatever it was, it certainly wasn’t a cottage – at least not the kind with the thatched roof and roses around the door. Had it been put on the property market in Britain it would have been described, in the curious English affected by estate agents, as ‘a commodious gentleman’s residence situated in delightful surroundings’.

There was a refreshing lack of expensive gimmickry: the beds were rectangular and not circular, the chairs were of wood and woollen fabric and not plastic stretched over chromed gas-piping, and the bath was normality itself and not carved from a single hunk of mother-of-pearl. Pyjamas and a dressing gown were laid out and there was a new toothbrush still sealed in its container.

There was also an imposing array of bottles and fresh ice in the ice bucket, so I poured myself a whisky and undressed slowly. It had been a long day. I put on the dressing gown and stood at the window, sipping the whisky and looking out over El Cerco. There was a single light shining from the house on the island and it flickered as someone moved in front of it. Presently it went out, so I finished the whisky and went to bed.

I was woken by the distant sound of an aircraft engine. Sunlight flooded the bedroom and reflections danced on the ceiling from the waters of the lagoon. The noise grew louder. It sounded as though the Lear was taking off so I got up and put on the dressing gown. By the time I reached the window it was overhead and its shadow flicked at me. I watched it climb over the sea and curve to the north. Then it went out of sight.

Somebody tapped gently at the door so I opened it and found John looking at me. He said, ‘Mrs Salton asked me to look after you, sir. She hopes you slept well.’

‘I slept very well.’

‘Would you care for coffee, sir? And what would you like for breakfast?’

We discussed the menu gravely and then he said, ‘When would you like it served, sir?’

‘Shall we say half an hour?’

‘Very well, sir.’ He paused. ‘Mrs Salton regrets that she can’t see you today. She has had to go away.’