‘Yeah, well,’ James grinned and tossed an olive stone on the fire. The flames flared, ‘more civilised than shooting people, I guess.’

I glanced out of the window. The Porsche had gone.

‘Perhaps you would care to join me some time, Mr Miller. I would be honoured. We even have a hunting lodge on the estate designed specifically for lunch, I am told.’

‘Don’t mind if I do, Mr Kattan.’ James toasted Kattan with his glass. ‘Always up for a new challenge, me.’

‘I always thought I might be a good shot, actually,’ I interjected.

‘I am not sure about women with guns, I must be honest,’ Hadi Kattan bowed. ‘What do you think, Mr Miller? It is not that fitting, I feel.’

‘I don’t know,’ my husband smirked. ‘Think of Charlie’s Angels!’

I stared at James in disbelief. ‘I think we’re talking more The Shooting Party than Cameron Diaz, actually, James. Tweed and plus fours, not bikinis and bling.’

A thickset young Asian man with greased-back hair and small silver hoops in his ears entered the room now and hovered behind us, very still and straight, his hands clasped behind his back. The throb of a helicopter could be heard in the distance, above the sound of conversation.

‘Zack. Please,’ Kattan beckoned him over. The young man muttered something in his ear.

‘Please, excuse me.’ Kattan moved away from us. ‘I have a small business matter to attend to.’

‘What’s The Shooting Party then? A porno about coming?’ James muttered.

‘Don’t be so crude, darling,’ I murmured back. ‘It really doesn’t behove one so well educated.’

‘Don’t be a bitch.’ He glared at me.

‘I’m not, really.’ I felt exhausted suddenly. There was a crisscross of tension in this house; not only between me and James, but the men arguing outside – and Kattan’s own demeanour seemed rather intense. ‘I’m going to find the loo.’

Crossing the panelled hall, I caught my reflection in a great ornate mirror as the door to the party swung shut, the noise quickly fading behind it. My eyes were glittering from alcohol, which I was unused to these days, and James was right: I definitely looked more curvaceous in my old velvet dress than I should.

Hand on the loo door, my heart jumped as I heard a thud from above. I hesitated. Checking behind me, I turned back and quickly headed up the huge oak staircase.

Door after door on the first corridor revealed nothing but empty rooms, a few with furniture shrouded eerily in dust-sheets, like small children playing ghosts. I paused again. In the distance I could hear the chop of the helicopter above – and something more sinister.

Somewhere not far from me, a woman was crying.