The sun is fragile today, pale behind a wispy grey sky. How strange that on this chilly winter’s day, with even a forecast of snow, all I can think of is the bright yellow sun of that Rangoon day. Huge, round, blisteringly hot. It still blinds me now and, even though I close my eyes against it, it remains trapped behind my eyelids.

As for Douglas. Well, one minute I was loved and then I was not. He hides it, of course, but I see beneath the anxious smiles and brevity of his words to the place where grief has burrowed deep inside him. He is empty now too, full of holes, but I remember his lips on mine and the tenderness in his eyes and the way he loved me until I felt we had dissolved into one being.

I tell myself I want to remember what happened, I truly do, but whenever I try a band of pain circles my head and my mind becomes a slippery mess. All the doctors say the same thing. Whatever happened, I cannot allow myself to see it and have blocked it from my conscious mind.

I still dream though. And yet the dreams provide no clarity, as each one is different from the last. I have no recollection of returning to England. All I remember is that one minute I was under house arrest in Rangoon and then the next, or so it seemed, I was back here.

18.

For the visit to the Pegu club on Sunday, Edward wore a well-cut pale linen suit and Belle a blue-and-white-spotted day dress, cinched in at the waist by a red leather belt. She’d tied back her hair and topped it off with a white wide-brimmed hat with a red ribbon to match the belt. Although she hadn’t fully decided what she felt about Edward she still wanted to look her best and create the right impression.

On their way they passed the usual colonial edifices, their facades decorated with ornate arches, corbels and pilasters – buildings absolutely reinforcing power and invincibility over others. Then there came the private houses with deep eaves designed to provide shade from the harsh Burmese sun for delicate English skins.

‘Pretty wonderful, isn’t it?’ Edward said, and before she had time to collect her thoughts, he went on to enquire about how she was getting on, so she recounted her interview with Inspector Johnson.

He narrowed his dark eyes, frowned and then thought for a moment. ‘He’s a sound chap but you really should have consulted me first. I’d have given you a formal introduction. I have considerable contacts, as you can imagine.’

‘You work for the police?’

‘Not exactly. I’m advisor to the Commissioner, among other things. In any case, you’ll be pleased to hear I’ve done a bit of digging.’

‘And?’ she said, thinking he looked pleased with himself.