‘And I shall,’ Gerhard assured her. ‘As you know, I was very ill when Saffron found me. It took me several months in a Swiss sanatorium to recover, although even then, I was still weak. All that time, Saffy was at my side. Anyway, when I was finally well enough to travel to Kenya, which the doctors agreed was the perfect place for me to complete my cure and regain my full strength . . .’ He paused and glanced around the table. ‘It’s paradise, you know, a Garden of Eden. And Saffron’s home, the Lusima Estate . . . ach, I don’t have the words to describe how beautiful it is. So, I still haven’t answered your question, madame . . .’

‘Indeed not,’ said her husband, ‘but I’m greatly enjoying your failure to do so. Garçon! Another two bottles of wine, if you don’t mind.’

‘We took the train to Genoa,’ Gerhard went on. ‘From there we sailed to Alexandria, where we boarded another vessel that took us through the Suez Canal and down the coast of East Africa to Mombasa. Saffy’s father Leon and her stepmother Harriet—’

‘Who is the loveliest stepmother any woman could hope to have,’ Saffron interjected.

‘. . . were waiting on the quayside to meet us. Leon took us to lunch and of course he hadn’t seen his daughter in years—’

‘Four, to be precise.’

‘. . . so I sat there for most of the meal while they caught up with each other’s news.’

‘I dare say you were quite relieved not to be the topic of conversation yourself,’ Churchill observed.

‘Absolutely . . . Then, after the puddings had been eaten, Harriet stood and said, “I think it is time for us girls to go and powder our noses.” I had no idea what she meant by that. But they walked away and I realised they were going to the ladies’ room . . . and I was alone with Saffron’s father . . .’

Leon Courtney assessed the tall, thin, war-ravaged thirty-five-year-old man sitting opposite him as thoroughly as he might any other investment his family was going to make.

Not bad, so far, he thought to himself. Impeccable manners, respectful to me, charming to Harriet, plainly dotes on Saffy. Top marks, too, for letting us get on with it and not trying to make himself the centre of the conversation. Not a show-off. Nothing like his bloody father. Now let’s see what he’s made of . . .

‘Would you like a glass of brandy with your coffee?’ Leon asked.

Gerhard gave a half-smile. ‘I’m not sure my doctor would approve.’

‘Nonsense. Nothing like brandy to buck a man up.’

Gerhard looked at Leon, eye to eye, letting him know that there was a strong, confident character behind that ailing façade. He gave a wry dry chuckle.

‘On second thoughts, yes, thank you, I will have a brandy. I suspect that I may need it.’

‘Good man.’