‘Because I want to talk to you.’ Caroline’s eyes were still warm. ‘But I’ll wait until everyone has stopped walking on eggshells over this race. We’ll meet up later, then?’

‘Yes.’ Maddy felt sick. How could she know? Drew couldn’t have told her, could he? ‘I’ll be around …’

Caroline drifted down the grassy slope to find a vantage point on the rails. Maddy discovered she’d been holding her breath.

‘What the hell is wrong with you?’ Fran tilted her head so that she could see under the cartwheel brim of her hat. ‘You’ve gone really white. Do you feel sick?’

‘I want a drink. And not Pimm’s. I want a real drink. Like half a pint of whisky.’

‘You’re sure you’re OK?’ Fran trotted behind her as Maddy hurtled through the hordes of suntanned models clinging to the arms of portly businessmen towards the Mezzanine Bar. ‘Isn’t it a bit early to be starting on the spirits?’

‘It’s far, far too late,’ Maddy hurled over her shoulder. ‘I knew I should have stuck to my principles.’

Fran, who didn’t know she hadn’t, shrugged and ordered doubles.

By the time the whisky had steadied Maddy’s nerves, the band had swept up the course, resplendent in their red and gold uniforms and their towering bearskins; the Royal party had been disgorged from their limousines to tumultuous cheers; and Fran had slipped away to spend half an hour calming Richard’s pre-race panic.

‘We’ve got twenty-three minutes. What do you suggest?’

The voice laughed just behind her left ear. Maddy, on the steps leading to the lawn, tottered slightly, but was smiling when she turned round.

Drew looked devastating in an exquisitely cut pale grey morning suit with a silk shirt and cravat. ‘What a moralistic hat. I can’t get anywhere near you.’

‘Just as well, as your wife is circulating down there somewhere.’ Maddy nodded the ostrich feathers in the direction of the banks of red and white flowers. ‘Is everything OK?’

‘No, it bloody isn’t.’ Drew took her elbow and steered her towards the rails bookmakers with their hotlines to their London offices. ‘I’ve missed you.’ He let his eyes trawl lazily over her. It was still the same. ‘You look absolutely wonderful, Maddy. Like Lillie Langtry.’

‘Oh, thanks. Wasn’t she the best-known mistress ever?’

‘Maybe, but not for much longer.’ Drew laughed, then his eyes softened. ‘You do look gorgeous – but then, you always do. Have you seen Caroline?’

Maddy nodded bleakly. ‘She wants to talk to me. She doesn’t know, does she?’

Drew shook his head, still holding her arm and caressing the inside of her wrist with the ball of his thumb. ‘She’s probably going to ask you to dinner.’