‘Darling,’ Mary said. ‘Aren’t you being a little rude?’

‘He’s just teasing,’ Jen explained, rummaging in her bag. ‘And taking good care of his old mum. I will take a dose, right this minute. I brought the bottle . . . I thought I had . . . Oh, never mind, it can wait. I feel quite well.’

‘I’ll get it,’ John said. ‘Give me your key.’

She handed it over and he left. He hadn’t acknowledged my presence except by a brusque nod.

‘He’s so thoughtful,’ Jen murmured.

‘What does your son do for a living, Mrs Tregarth?’ I asked.

Mary gave me an odd look. The question had been somewhat abrupt, but Jen was in no condition to notice nuances, and John was obviously her favourite topic of conversation.

‘Why, my dear, I’m surprised you haven’t heard of him, since his line of work is so closely related to yours.’

I inhaled involuntarily and burst into a fit of coughing. Jen slapped me on the back and went on, ‘He began in a modest way – a little shop in Truro – but his business has expanded at such a rapid rate that he has just opened an establishment in London. I am informed that he is regarded as one of the most reputable authorities in all of England.’

‘Don’t tell me,’ I wheezed. ‘Let me guess. Antiques?’

‘And works of art.’

‘Of course.’ Gasping for breath, I covered my face with my hands.

‘There’s plenty of this revolting stuff to go round,’ said John. ‘Would you care for a nip?’

I fumbled for a napkin and looked up. He stood over me, one eyebrow elevated, both lips curling.

‘Darling,’ Mary said reproachfully.

‘It’s all right. I just inhaled the wrong way.’ I wiped my eyes.

John handed his mother a bottle filled with a virulent pink liquid. ‘Here you go, old girl. Would you care to try one of my cigarettes, Dr – er – Bliss, isn’t it? Yours appear to be a trifle too strong.’

II

By the end of the evening I had managed to meet most of the other passengers. Jen had been guilty of unkind exaggeration when she described them as senile, but ‘elderly’ wouldn’t have been inaccurate; the majority of them had to be at least seventy.

One of the exceptions was Suzi Umphenour, the bleached blonde from Memphis (Tennessee). I hadn’t expected to like her, but I did, perhaps because she cheerfully admitted that she had joined the cruise only because it was hideously expensive and very exclusive. ‘All my friends in Memphis were green with envy,’ she had declared with naive satisfaction.

‘Then you aren’t interested in Egyptology?’

She emitted a fat chuckle and grinned, displaying an expanse of expensively capped teeth. ‘I’m interested in men, honey. Young men. All my husbands were old and boring. I figure now I’m entitled to a little fun. There aren’t as many cute guys on this trip as I’d hoped, but some of the Egyptian boys are kind of sweet, don’t you think?’