“Belinda, you’re twenty-three and devastatingly beautiful. In fact if you wanted to stay on here and make a career in films, I’m sure you could.”

The flicker of a smile crossed her face. “Do you really think so? You’re very kind, Georgie. A sweet person. You deserve happiness.”

I leaned closer. “And when we’re alone I’ll tell you something else that will make you feel better,” I whispered.

“Oh God. I wish he’d hurry up,” Mummy said in her stage voice that echoed around the cavernous rooms. “All I want right now is my bed. And to be back in Germany with Max or at my villa in Lugano. Or my dear little place in Nice. Or at Brown’s Hotel in London. Anywhere but here. This was such a stupid idea in the first place. And a ridiculous movie. Bloody Mary and the Virgin Queen fighting over King Philip of Spain—I ask you.”

Silence fell again.

“I don’t know about anyone else but I’m going to have another drink,” Charlie said. He went over to the drinks table and sloshed cognac into a glass. We looked up as Mrs. Goldman returned and sank onto the sofa next to Barbara. She pushed an imaginary strand of hair back from her face, even though her hairstyle and makeup were still immaculate.

“So many stupid questions,” she said. “So unnecessary. Somehow he latched on to the fact that we didn’t live together. As if that gave me a motive for murder. Trying to put words in my mouth. I told him that life suited us perfectly the way things were but he wouldn’t give up.”

“Here, you need this more than me, Helen.” Charlie handed her his drink. “Get that by you.”