‘Shh, J,’ I warned. ‘Be nice, please.’ My heart sank as I spotted the local MP, Eddie Johnson, in the corner. Thankfully Johnson’s wife was nowhere to be seen.

Tina and her bespectacled husband approached us now and they began to discuss the last series of The Wire with James whilst I eyed the photographs behind them. I’d just picked up a heavy gold frame housing the picture of a dark-haired doe-eyed teenage girl when a low voice made me jump.

‘Mrs Miller, I presume?’

‘Yes.’ I replaced the photograph quickly and turned, composing my face as my brain caught up with fact. ‘You must be Mr Kattan?’

‘Indeed.’ The elegant dark-haired man inclined his head politely. ‘Charmed to meet you.’

Involuntarily I looked back at the picture of the girl. The waterlogged girl from the petrol station, the girl from the protest in the newspaper. Kattan followed my eyes.

‘I believe you met my daughter the other night.’

‘Ah.’ The all-seeing eye. ‘Yes, I think I did.’

‘She was having a very bad day.’

‘A bad day.’ You could say that again. ‘She seemed a little – confused.’

‘Yes. She was taken ill on her way home from London. A bad oyster, I believe.’

‘Poor thing. Is she all right now?’

‘Yes, thank God. Salmonella can make you quite delirious, her doctor tells me.’

‘Sounds horrible. Is she here?’

He sighed. ‘I was sincerely hoping that she would be, Mrs Miller, but …’ His Middle Eastern accent was almost imperceptible. ‘The party would help her, I think. Meet some local people, make some new friends. But I am afraid she has gone – how do you say it? – walkabout?’

‘I’m sorry.’ The image of her wailing face spun through my head; the contorted face in the newspaper. ‘Doesn’t she like parties?’

‘Usually. But she has had some … some trouble recently with a young man.’

‘What kind of trouble?’ I was intrigued.

‘Oh, the usual, you know.’ He inspected his fingernails briefly. ‘I think the boyfriend is what the films might term a “heart-breaker.”‘

‘Poor girl.’ I was genuinely sympathetic. ‘There’s nothing more painful than love.’

He caught my eye. He had a neat intelligent face, dark hooded eyes. Not handsome but rather noble. ‘That, my dear Mrs Miller, is undoubtedly true.’

‘I hope she feels better soon. It’s a lovely party.’ I smiled again.

‘Thank you so much for inviting us. I’m looking forward to meeting your son.’

‘Thank you.’ He bowed again. ‘I’m afraid he is not here yet. I hope he will arrive soon.’ Dressed in a grey suit, Kattan was the epitome of elegance, with a presence that pervaded the party, that drew the guests’ eyes to him. His gestures were almost courtly, and his immaculate teeth, when he smiled, were a startling white against his olive skin. He might be renowned, but there was no doubt the man was also something of a mystery.