She waited for the disturbing combination of longing and fear which accompanied recollections of the West Indies to overwhelm her as usual – the nostalgia for an enchanted childhood place mixed with the terror of a malign but hidden menace . . . but it did not come. Then she remembered the evening before and how the threat of taking part in Scottish reels, which had sent her into such a spin of panic, had been transformed when she and Christopher danced together, and how a very different kind of magic from anything she had experienced before had cast a new spell over her – and exorcised an old one. She remembered his suggestion that they should go off together somewhere for the day. She stretched luxuriously and sat up, pushing her hair back from her face, and reached for her watch. After nine o’clock already! She flung the duvet back and got out of bed. She had just finished dressing when there was a tap at her door.

‘Marnie?’

‘Yes?’

‘It’s Christopher.’

‘Oh hi – come in,’ she said.

He peered round the door and smiled at her and she smiled brilliantly back. ‘Hi there,’ she said, conscious of a quickening of her pulse at the sight of him. ‘I’m just about to go down to breakfast.’

‘It looks like being a glorious day so I thought I’d check if you were awake.’ He stood in the doorway. ‘I reckon Bunty et al will have gone off by now and I wondered when you’d like to plan our day together – unless you’ve had second thoughts about it, that is?’

‘Of course I haven’t.’

‘Great.’ He hesitated for a moment and she wondered what was coming. He said abruptly: ‘Look, Marnie, I feel badly that if we go off somewhere, the driving will all have to be on you. It’s not only that I haven’t got my car here, but I wasn’t sure if you realised that I haven’t got my licence back yet? It goes against the grain to invite you out for the day and then not be able to transport you wherever we decide to go, or at least offer to share the driving.’

‘Is that all?’ She laughed. ‘I thought you were going to cry off. Not being able to drive may be lousy for you, but it certainly won’t worry me,’ she assured him. ‘I love driving.’ Then, thinking that the after-effect of the crash might have left Christopher with serious backseat-driving problems, she added: ‘I’m a very good driver – even my father tolerates being chauffeured by me, and that’s some recommendation, I can tell you. It’ll be great to have someone to map-read for me and tell me where to go. I’m hopeless at carrying a route in my head. It’ll be a nice change from being on my own.’