‘Here we are,’ Jeremy said. He stooped at a table to pick up a fruit that I didn’t even recognize – it was like an apple, but with soft flesh like a peach. He bit in and chewed a mouthful before throwing the rest aside; it skidded across the marble flagstones, leaving a trail of seeds and flesh. ‘Grapes?’ he asked, picking up a bunch.

‘No, thank you.’

‘Up to you.’ He dropped them again, and I couldn’t help but think that there was something awful about it all – absurd and impossible, that this could be happening, when outside the walls there were so many parents cutting slices of bread in half to share with their children. The scene was no different to a thousand that had taken place in country houses before the War, but still it struck me as wrong that it should continue to exist in a nation where such disparity was supposed to have been swept away. Privilege would always be with us, I supposed, yet it made my skin prickle that its beneficiaries should be so blasé about it.

‘Jeremy,’ a voice called over. I saw a man in his forties who looked to have been very handsome a few years ago, but those years had taken a toll in hollow cheeks and bags under bloodshot eyes. He was slumped on a wicker chaise-longue.

‘Let’s introduce you,’ Jeremy said, taking me over. The man had his double-breasted jacket open as he leaned back against the armrest. ‘This is Adam.’

Adam gazed at me. ‘I had to beg for the wine,’ he moaned. ‘Shortages, apparently. Russians taking it all. Oh, how Socialist of them. Well, it doesn’t matter now.’ He was slurring his words and sounded utterly wretched.

‘He’s been like this all the time, recently,’ Jeremy muttered. ‘Very boring. You can look after him for a bit.’ He walked away towards a table full of glasses and decanters.

‘I’m Adam Cutter,’ he said, more to himself than to me, holding out his hand.

‘Lorelei Cawson.’ I shook his hand and began to lift off my mask as the others had.

‘Lorelei?’ He seemed to wake from a dream. ‘Oh, Lorelei, I didn’t recognize you.’ My fingers froze on my mask. ‘Why didn’t you reply?’

‘Reply to what?’ Tense, I tried to keep her voice in my mind, the way her vowels rounded and her consonants were like beats on a tight drum. I let the mask slip back into place.

‘To my … note.’ He lifted his head from the armrest, but the effort seemed too much and it fell back. ‘Nick’s heard that you’re selling him out.’

I thought of the handwritten words on the invitation that had been sent to Lorelei. Presumably it referred to the medicines but how?

I sat beside Adam and put my hand on his leg sympathetically. ‘You think I’m doing that?’