Some of the group were already back at the hotel, gathered in the bar adjoining the foyer. As Dinah said her goodnights, Jared still supporting her towards the lifts, she made a small moue of regret at what she was missing.

‘There was a time I’d have closed the bar in the early hours,’ she said to Connie, standing straighter for a moment, head swept back, allowing her a small glimpse of what must have been the striking, magnificent woman of her youth.

‘Join us, Connie?’ She heard Ginty’s drunken tones and turned to see her and Ruth beckoning her from where they sat with the others, around two tables pushed together. It’s the last night at the lake, she thought. Tomorrow they would take the train to Paris, spend a night there, then onwards to London. So maybe she could stay for a quick one. She had no desire to go to bed right now.

Almost before she had sat down, Ruth plonked a glass containing amber liquid and crushed ice in front of her.

‘We’re on to the Amaretto,’ she said.

Connie thanked her and took a sip, the sweet bitter-almond taste rolling smoothly over her tongue. She and Devan weren’t big spirits drinkers, their preferred poison a good red wine. But this was hitting the spot for her tonight and she smiled, raising her glass to the group, all clearly in a celebratory mood.

‘We’ve had the best time.’ Ruth beamed at her, clinking her glass. ‘You’ve made it perfect for us.’

‘She really is the best,’ a voice from behind her agreed.

Turning, Connie saw Jared. As before, when he had remarked so emphatically that she was ‘brilliant’, she felt embarrassed by his praise. It didn’t sound quite the same as Ruth’s or Ginty’s. It had a note of something else that unsettled her – although not in an altogether unpleasant way.

He pulled up a chair next to her, peering into her glass. ‘What’s that you’ve got?’

She told him and he pulled a face. When he came back from the bar with a tumbler of whisky and chinking ice, he turned to her. ‘Listen, I’m so sorry you had to endure all Dinah’s stories tonight. Neither of us got a word in edgewise. But that’s how it always is with her.’

‘Goodness, don’t apologize,’ Connie said. ‘I loved it. She’s a force of nature, your godmother.’

Jared chuckled. ‘She’s wicked about her poor husbands. I only met two of them, but they were nothing like as bad as she makes out. Just outmanoeuvred and outclassed, poor sods. They didn’t stand a chance.’

For a while the conversation became general. Favourite moments of the tour were mooted and challenged. But all the while Connie was conscious of Jared by her side, contributing little, but quietly attentive to what she was saying. She found she was enjoying it.