It is funny how the evenings are drawing in already or is that just my imagination? When we go back to Moscow next week, I will feel the winter even though autumn is weeks away. As I clip my earrings on, the glint of yellow gold reminds me of the churches with glistening domes. What had Diana called them? Castles of gold. That was two years ago. Diana had been six. Time is flying.

Glancing in the mirror, I adjust my bra strap before pulling on my gloves. The sound of our guests gathering on the lawn below my bedroom window mixes with the music coming from Diana’s room. It was Elvis Presley now. Diana was singing at full volume and no doubt my guests are enjoying her rendition of ‘Good Luck Charm’.

The quartet isn’t due to begin playing until after dinner. Last year we were still dancing as dawn broke behind Gribben Head. Instead of sensibly heading to bed, ten of us went swimming and Mrs Hoskine had provided breakfast and Bloody Marys on the beach.

It will be a wonderful party tonight and I will enjoy being in Allan’s arms again later on. His laughter carries above the hum of conversation below. He is in his element. How he loves to be at the centre of everything.

A final check of my appearance in the mirror and I see I’ve forgotten my lipstick. Slipping off my glove, I take care applying the pale pink. It shows off my tanned skin as does the wonderful watery aqua silk of the dress. Outside, the Venns’ voices rise above the rest of the guests. No, that isn’t quite right. They aren’t actually louder, but their accent stands out. I pull my bedroom door to, noting the sun catching the sailing boats in the bay. It is a glorious evening for a bank holiday weekend and I will enjoy all of it. I am determined, and I head down to greet my guests.

‘There you are.’ Tom smiles.

I turn at the bottom of the staircase to see him.

‘Looking breathtaking as always.’

I kiss his cheek and put my arm through his. ‘Has no one given you a drink?’

‘Pacing myself.’

‘Hmmm. You are off-duty now.’ I whisper, arching an eyebrow as we walk through the drawing room out to the lawn.

‘One never knows.’ He gives my arm a squeeze and I wonder if I am ever able to let my hair down, to be Joan Trewin. I don’t know quite who she is or how I feel about her at the moment.