‘Yes. I began to think that I shall be able to live with myself again after all.’ Chloe glanced down at her hands and then said, ‘Something funny happened to me, too. Masefield asked if he could see me in London.’

Chloe had been sitting alone in the inner court of the palazzo, watching the evening light thicken on the mosaics. Masefield came out and looked around at the empty chairs.

‘Where is everyone?’

‘Changing,’ she told him, and instead of going away again he sat down and watched her, his eyes unashamedly exploring her face. She saw that he had blue eyes, not shifting pools of different blues like Pansy’s, but solid and piercing.

‘You’re lovely, Chloe,’ he said abruptly, and then, ‘Do you think I’m an old man?’

‘No,’ she said, understanding him.

They were both acutely aware of the blank rows of windows looking out over the court. Masefield lit a cigarette with exaggerated attention.

‘I’m often in London,’ he said. ‘Sometimes alone. Shall we meet there?’

Their eyes met and the seconds of possibility ticked past, then Chloe looked down and away from him. As gently as she could, she said, ‘No, I don’t think that would be very clever of us.’

‘Pity.’ Masefield was crisp. ‘We might have enjoyed ourselves.’

In the plane high over Switzerland, Chloe saw that Helen was watching her with surprise.

‘What did you say?’

‘Oh, I turned him down, of course.’ Chloe’s smile was lopsided. ‘I’ve done enough tangling with married men.’

That was all, but the insignificant little encounter had changed Chloe’s mood dramatically. With her refusal, self-confidence had flooded back into her, and a renewed sense of pleasure in controlling her own life. She was free again, and she would make the most of it. Oxford beckoned now, and the disciplines of work that she was beginning to enjoy for its own sake.

Of the three of them, only Pansy behind her closed eyelids felt no pleasure at her return. She was winging away from the restrictions imposed by Masefield and Kim, but in his own way Stephen and his consuming passion for her was beginning to feel just as restricting.

Impatience seethed inside Pansy, but she kept the muscles of her face slack and her eyelids firmly closed.

TRINITY TERM

ELEVEN

Heathrow looked profoundly ugly.

Confronted with the acres of orange and green plastic and submerged in the cacophony of noise, Helen felt depression folding around her. It affected Chloe and Pansy too, and they stood in a silent group at the baggage carousel during the interminable wait for their suitcases.

When they came through the customs hall, Helen saw him at once. Darcy was there, anxiously scanning the crowd of arrivals. He was not as tall as she remembered, and the intent frown made him look short-sighted. A second later he saw her and his face split into a smile of pure delight.