‘I adore Canaletto,’ Kim said. ‘Don’t I, Mase?’

The guests turned out to be two thickset jowly men and their overweight, bejewelled wives. Only one of the men spoke English, and even the most trivial remark had to be translated for Kim, who knew no Italian. The conversation was mostly about money, or about people who had money and what they did with it.

The lengthy dinner, impeccably served, was heavy with creamy sauces. When at last it was over the men withdrew sharply with Masefield. All three faces were suddenly alive, wolfish with enthusiasm for the deals to be made. The six women were left to languish in the lounge. Conversation would have died away entirely without Chloe’s light, effortless chatter in her almost fluent Italian. Helen thought it was the most stultifying evening she had ever spent and new sympathy for Pansy sprang up inside her. More and more frequently her eyes turned to the velvet dark beyond the cracks in the shutters. Enviously she heard laughter from the boats and the quays, and the singing of the gondoliers.

Pansy followed her eyes. At once she said, ‘Kim darling, as it’s Helen’s first night here, don’t you think Chloe and I should take her out somewhere, even if it’s just to Quadri’s for a coffee? I’m sure Signora Riccadello and Signora Tronzino won’t mind.’

Kim plainly longed to veto the idea, but she was trapped into politeness.

‘What does Helen want to do?’

‘I’d love to go in a gondola.’

Kim looked puzzled. ‘In a gondola? Where to? Guido can take you anywhere you want to go in the motorboat.’

‘Not to anywhere. Just to look.’

Plainly Kim thought just looking the most eccentric occupation in the world.

Formal goodnights were said all round and then Pansy hustled her friends out of the room. Glancing back Helen saw Kim mustering a bright smile for the Italian matrons, but the sides of her cheeks were pinched in as if she was swallowing a yawn. So evenings like this were Kim’s job, for which she was paid with days in Masefield’s European palaces and her Armani and Krizia dresses.

Helen wondered if Masefield’s first three wives had found the job not to their liking.

The three girls ran down the stairs as if they were escaping from detention.

‘Who were those men?’ Chloe asked. ‘Didn’t they look like mobsters?’

‘Chloe!’ Helen was shocked, but Pansy only laughed.

‘I wouldn’t be at all surprised. Masefield knows all kinds of very odd characters.’