Without waiting to hear Arthur’s reply, Evie ran back down the corridor, shaking with anger, tears burning her eyes.

From that point onwards, she avoided the Leightons. On such a large ship it wasn’t difficult, provided she remained alert. By the time they were passing through the Red Sea, Veronica had emerged from her self-imposed purdah, seemingly fully recovered, and was often to be seen sipping cocktails in the bar – usually surrounded by men – or reclining gracefully in swimwear in a deck chair to show her long lithe figure to best advantage, but never venturing into the pool.

As for Arthur, Evie knew he usually worked in the ship’s library or the Smoking Room, so took care to avoid those areas. Instead of strolling on the promenade deck where she was bound to bump into him, she took to climbing up and down the companionways to get her daily exercise. The rest of the time she sat in a secluded corner on one of the quiet back decks, or hid out in the Ladies Only salon, where Arthur couldn’t enter and Veronica never would. At dinner, instead of joining her table, Evie took her meals in her cabin.

A heavy misery had swamped her, weighing her down and making her wish she’d never set out on this foolhardy mission. She watched the dawn break as they reached the end of the Red Sea, the ship close to the coast where the bright orange rising sun burned behind the dark outline of rocks. The flaming brilliance faded to pale pinks and purples, beneath what promised later to be a blue cloudless sky. The huge ball of the sun rose up above the horizon, a blazing orb of fire emerging from behind hills. Minutes later, the colour had drained from the sky and the ship had moved past the coastline, into the empty churning waters of the Gulf of Aden, under a burning, now white, sun. Evie sighed. Such beauty. Sights she had never dreamt she would witness. Yet instead of exulting in the experience, all she felt was an empty numbness.

Late one afternoon, sitting on the aft boat deck as the ship made its stately progress across the Arabian Sea towards Bombay, a shadow fell across the book she was reading.

‘There you are, Evie.’ Arthur Leighton squinted at her, the sun in his eyes. ‘Have you been avoiding me? I haven’t clapped eyes on you for days. Were you unwell? I asked your steward but he said you were out and about. I’ve been searching the ship for you.’ His eyes looked concerned and not a little hurt.

Embarrassed, Evie said, ‘I was a bit under the weather. I didn’t think I’d make very cheerful company so I’ve been keeping out of the way for a while.’

‘May I?’ He gestured towards the deck chair next to hers, then sat, sideways on, so he could see her. ‘Are you sure you’re all right?’

Evie pursed her lips, then saw his face had such a kind and concerned expression that, before she could stop herself, she’d blurted out the truth. ‘Actually, I’ve had a bit of a wobble. Realised I’ve been a frightful chump in agreeing to come to Malaya and marry Douglas when I don’t really know him. I expect he made his offer without thinking through the implications and by now he’ll be wondering how to get out of it.’ She pleated the fabric of her dress through restless fingers. ‘I was wondering if I ought to get off the ship when we reach Bombay. Only I’ve no money to pay the passage home. What do you think I should do?’