‘Do you think there was something wrong with it?’ she asked.

I felt heat rise through my body and I found it difficult to look her in the eye. ‘Well, it was old, so I guess you can’t rule out the possibility that something might have gone wrong.’ Almost immediately I backtracked, adding, ‘It seemed really well maintained, though. It looked great and ran very smoothly.’

‘But they said it was a medical event,’ she replied. ‘An aneurysm. That’s what they told me. But do you think there was a mechanical problem? The car was relatively undamaged in the accident so that doesn’t seem right. He just nudged the bank, like he felt something was wrong and had just enough time to pull over. But you think it might have been the car?’

A wave of relief mixed with guilt and sadness went through me. ‘I didn’t know he’d had an aneurysm,’ I said. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t realise something had happened to Archer. Jerome said he’d lost control but I didn’t know why. I assumed it was something to do with the car, or the road conditions, or maybe that he swerved to miss something … I didn’t know the details and I didn’t like to ask. It’s so sad.’

Renate looked confused and I wished I’d kept my mouth shut. I’d raised questions and doubts in her mind and now the only decent thing to do was reassure her. ‘I’m certain the doctors are right. They would have done scans and they can see what’s happened. If they say it was an aneurysm, it must have been that. That makes sense.’

As I spoke I wondered who I really wanted to reassure. Renate only nodded in response, then said goodbye before hurrying off to meet Hester. I kept on my way, going over what Renate had said, trying to convince myself that Archer’s death had nothing to do with his car. I couldn’t believe that Archer had crashed because of an aneurysm. He was too full of life and too kind a person for something like that to kill him. His death felt unfair and cruel.

As I went through the Domain, I noticed that groups of people were milling around the tropical glasshouse. Tourists probably, from a cruise ship or a bus tour.

As I reached the main drive leading out of the Domain I began to feel nervous. I recognised the feeling in the pit of my stomach, that resident touch of self-conscious foolishness I’d experienced in the past whenever I bumped into Thora. The mixture of being pleased to see her coupled with the desire to escape as quickly as possible. That was how I felt now, and my first reflex was to reach in my bag for a reassuring spray of perfume, my constant shield and protection in awkward social situations. But there was little point because whatever I sprayed would be tainted with the residue smell of the mouth-spit scent that clung to my skin on my left arm, despite all my rubbing. I should have learnt by now not to spray untested perfumes directly onto my skin. I should have tried it on a blotter first. I should also have learnt that the perfumes I hate the most have an uncanny ability to hang around for hours, whereas the real beauties, those that make me swoon with delight, often evaporate and fade within the hour. This purple muck, I thought as I stepped through the main gates, will probably still be on my skin in the morning. And it will remain on my clothes for even longer. Like a stain.