‘That was rather unkind,’ said Marcus, who had witnessed the incident.

‘Don’t talk to me about it,’ said Georgina, with her discouraging face which was so much part of her character. ‘Just don’t.’

The New Year’s Eve party was attended not only by the resident guests, but by people from the area. Some guests remembered the retired doctor, his parties, and the American writer who came to them. ‘He would have loved this,’ they said. ‘He loved a party.’

‘Frightful man,’ said Georgina.

‘Oh, did you ever meet him?’

‘Certainly not.’

They had brought in a three-piece band from the town, and the musicians played on the terrace while people stood at the parapet and looked down at the lights of the town and, beyond the town, to the sea. It was a windy night, but the air was warm and scented with the flowers that grew in the windward section of the garden. Down in the darkness below, from time to time somebody would send up a firework rocket that would break into a cone of falling stars, and the people on the terrace would clap or whistle in admiration.

As the old year faded into the new, champagne was opened and the guests broke into a rendition of ‘Auld Lang Syne’, linking hands and stepping backwards and forwards on the creaky planks of the terrace. Georgina sat to one side. She looked disapproving for some reason, as if the ending of the old year was a personal affront or a private loss.

Then she went out, by herself, glass in hand, and stood on the lawn under one of the swaying coconut trees. Marcus saw her from the terrace and called out, but his voice was swallowed by a strong gust of wind. It was the same gust of wind that dislodged a large coconut, which fell directly on Georgina’s head.

There was a shout from the terrace. ‘Georgina’s down …’ Then a rush as the guests made their way to the lawn. Georgina lay there, unconscious. A nurse among the guests reached down and took her pulse. ‘She’s been knocked out,’ she said. ‘Get her inside.’

They put her to bed while they telephoned for an ambulance. Nobody answered at the other end, and so they tried the number of a local doctor. He said, ‘I’ve been at a party. I’m not sure if I can drive …’ But he agreed to come, and when he arrived two hours later, with a small cut on his face that nobody asked about, Georgina had already come round.

‘I hope everyone enjoyed themselves,’ she said. ‘I would not like to think that I had spoiled the party.’

Marcus looked at her in surprise. His surprise continued the next morning when Georgina, back on her feet, went round the hotel wishing everybody a happy new year and asking them whether there was anything she could do for them.

‘Somebody’s made a new year’s resolution,’ muttered one of the guests. ‘It won’t last.’