Large, uneven flakes of snow began to fall onto the car and Archie looked anxiously at the sky, hoping that the weather wasn’t about to take a turn for the worse, but the flurry was nothing more than that and the last few miles passed quickly. Marlene’s delight on seeing the castle for the first time was a distraction from his own more complex feelings; with his parents and many of his friends now dead, coming home for Christmas was invariably a tangle of comfort and loss, much harder than staying away. He had seen St Michael’s Mount at midnight under a harvest moon and shimmering in the midday sun, ghostly through a sea mist or defiant against a raging storm, but it always transported him back to his childhood. ‘We’re here in time,’ he said, before his emotions could get the better of him. ‘The tide looks like it’s only just turned, so we can cross by car.’

‘That’s probably just as well. I have never been a very good swimmer.’

Archie announced their arrival at the estate office on the mainland, and by the time he had driven across the causeway, Hilaria was waiting on the quayside, flanked by two footmen and a man with a camera. ‘I feel as if I’m about to be presented at court,’ Marlene said.

‘I suppose you are, in a manner of speaking. They’re used to royalty here.’

He drew up by the museum and opened the door for Marlene, noticing how many of the islanders had suddenly found a reason to be out and about or sitting at their windows. ‘Miss Dietrich, how lovely to meet you,’ Hilaria said. ‘Thank you for coming. Your support is so valuable to us.’ 91

‘I’m glad to help with such a good cause. It’s very good of you to open your home for Christmas – and what a magnificent home it is.’

Archie waited while Hilaria talked briefly about the island and its history. She seemed completely at ease, and – not for the first time – he envied the English aristocracy their self-confidence, then reminded himself that in this particular case it stemmed from more than generations of entitlement. Hilaria was a remarkable woman in her own right, an adventurous, inquisitive traveller who had flown across the equator and sailed around the world, showing as little regard for safety in later life as she had when they played together as children. She and Marlene were bound to hit it off, he thought; they had so much in common.

The photographer hovered awkwardly on the sidelines, a guest whose presence was tolerated rather than welcomed, and Archie felt sorry for him. He had expected someone older, a version of the pushy, world-weary journalists he had often had to deal with in his work, but Alex Fielding was around thirty, dressed impeccably in a dark blue suit which was new enough to have been bought especially for the weekend; he looked incapable of intruding on anyone’s privacy, let alone a Hollywood star’s. ‘You must be from The Times,’ Archie said, holding out his hand. ‘I’m—’