Rain came in the night, beating on the roofs of the bungalows with a fury that could have launched the Ark. There were flashes of lightning and shattering cracks of thunder overhead. Patsy clutched Colin in well-simulated terror with highly satisfactory results. Neither of them gave a thought to Marnie, lying rigid next door, the dread of her mother’s anger if she called out being even greater than her fear of the thunder. Curiously enough, Luciana, who had never been afraid of any kind of storm, did think of her – but she thrust the thought aside.

The couple from Purley never heard a thing; Reg because rum had left him insensible, and his wife because she was using earplugs as a defence against her husband’s snoring.

Next day the mist had lifted from the volcano, and though there were dark clouds out to sea, overhead the sky was miraculously blue again. Stella announced that the weekly beach barbecue could go ahead as usual. Anyone not wanting to go should notify the staff in the office. In the hotel kitchen, there was much packing up of insulated picnic boxes containing chicken legs and steak, and a strong whiff of kerosene, used for lighting the barbecues, mingled with smells of rum and coconut milk and fruit for planter’s punches. It took time to get everyone into the minibuses, the effort of remembering sun-cream, hats and cameras being more than most hotel guests could manage without several false starts.

‘I wonder,’ said Stella, approaching Luciana with her sweetest smile, ‘if you would be an absolute angel?’ Not receiving any encouragement, she continued undaunted: ‘It’s just that as I gather you’re not going down to the beach today, Patsy and Colin would be so grateful if you could keep an eye on their little girl so that they can have a bit of time to themselves? Patsy thinks Marnie-Jane’s a weeny bit off-colour today and it could be too hot for her by the sea. I thought you might be glad of the company,’ lied Stella, ‘but please say if it would be a bore.’

‘I never let anyone become a bore to me,’ said Luciana – but she surprised herself and Stella by adding, ‘Marnie-Jane can come and eat her lunch with me if she likes.’

She settled herself in a shady spot, revelling in the departure of the rest of the guests, and opened her book, though thoughts of vengeance for the wrong Carlos had done her proved more absorbing. She watched Marnie going off for her rendezvous with Kenneth. It was an odd alliance, she thought, but there was no doubt that a bond had formed between the American child and the West Indian man with his ashen curls and misshapen face, whose albino condition had robbed his skin of its natural colour so that he looked as though he had emerged, after long darkness, from under a stone.