The morning after the Kattans’ party, the taxi dropped me at the gates in the overgrown lane. I had a feeling of foreboding that I tried to dispel, but my stomach was churning slightly even before I began the long walk up the drive.

Last night it had been my turn to lie awake, sleepless beside a snoring James, recalling events I had blocked for years. And as I stared into the darkness, craving sleep and peace, I couldn’t understand why all these events were conspiring to meet now. But whatever the reason, the past seemed to be travelling inexorably towards me – and there was nowhere to hide. All night I’d pondered the portrait in the bedroom, until finally I’d decided that James was right: that I’d been mistaken: that one sloe-eyed beauty might look rather like another. But still I couldn’t quite push Huriyyah’s face from my mind.

The gravel crunched satisfyingly underfoot as I set off, my hand clasped round the car keys in my fleece pocket. In the past few weeks the earth had yawned mightily and begun to waken, and I was flanked now by creamy yellow daffodils that flickered lightly in the breeze, the great glossy camellias behind them festooned with buds as big as my fist. The temperature at night was still close to freezing, but this morning had dawned fresh and bright – a mismatch for my sense of apprehension. I intended to fetch the car and leave the property as quickly as I could.

My phone rang. Xavier.

‘Where are you?’

‘Fetching my car from Hadi Kattan’s house in Gloucestershire.’

‘You got in there then? Good girl.’

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘And now I’m getting out.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘It’s not for me, Xav.’

‘Don’t be a pussy, Rose.’

‘I’m not. Like I said, I’m flattered, and I think you should follow it up – but you need to get someone else to do it.’

‘But you’re in already. I’ve got more juicy stuff coming through; rumours that Kattan may have financed a trainingcamp from his home in Tehran. Plus he’s been the subject of a CIA investigation.’

‘Really?’ I thought of the man last night at the party, of the helicopter, of the hysterical and now apparently missing daughter.

Detecting my hesitation, Xav pounced. ‘Come on, Rose.’

‘I’ve already been warned off by his laconic idiot of a driver.’

‘A nice bit of rough? Right up your street.’

‘Up yours, you mean.’

‘Darling! All those coarse farmers are having a terrible effect on you.’

I thought of Hadi Kattan’s firm handshake and the way he held back from the rest of the crowd; the assurance in his stance. ‘Kattan’s much more my type.’ For all his inherent sexism, no man had smiled at me like that for years.

‘You’re a happily married woman, let me remind you, Rosie.’