‘Why, you do not look well at all, senhora. You are very pale. Are you perhaps sickening for something?’

‘I am feeling a little faint,’ Bel agreed.

‘Well, perhaps we should continue the fitting on another day? I think it may be best if you leave and take some rest,’ she said, surreptitiously eyeing her client’s stomach in the mirror.

In that split second, Bel caught Loen’s eye, and knew her decision had been made for her.

‘Yes, perhaps you’re right. I will telephone tomorrow to make another appointment. Come, Loen,’ she added to her maid. ‘We shall leave now.’

As the two women left the salon and emerged onto the street, Bel turned to Loen. ‘Well, this is it. I must be out of my mind, but I’m going to meet him. Wish me luck.’

‘Of course. Just be sure to meet me back here in time for the car to pick us up. And Senhora Bel,’ she added softly, ‘even if you decide you can never be with him again after today, I think you are making the right decision to see him.’

‘Thank you.’

Bel walked swiftly through the streets of Ipanema towards Rua Visconde de Pirajá. Twice she turned back in uncertainty, but then retraced her footsteps forward, until she found herself in front of Laurent’s apartment block.

Yes, she told herself. I will go inside, tell him in person that I can’t ever see him again, just as I did in Paris. And then I will leave.

Darting inside the entrance, she moved towards the stairs and began to climb them, noting the numbers on the apartment doors.

When she reached number six, she hesitated, then, closing her eyes and sending up a silent prayer, she knocked on the door.

She heard footsteps crossing the wooden boards, and when the door opened, Laurent stood in front of her.

‘Bonjour, Madame Aires Cabral. Please, come in.’

He smiled at her, holding the door open so she could walk through it. Closing it behind him, he double-locked it, just in case Monica the maid should make an unexpected appearance. Having finally got Bel alone, he wanted no disturbances.

‘What a wonderful view,’ she said nervously as she stood in the drawing room and gazed out over the ocean.

‘Yes, it is, isn’t it?’

‘Laurent . . .’

‘Izabela . . .’

They smiled at each other as they spoke at the same time.

‘Shall we sit down?’ she asked him, walking to a chair and seating herself, trying in vain to calm her rapid breathing.

Laurent pulled up another chair so that it was facing hers and sat down. ‘So, what would you like to talk about?’

‘I . . .’ She shook her head and sighed. ‘It’s no good. I shouldn’t be here.’

‘Neither should I,’ he agreed. ‘But it seems that in spite of our determination not to be, here we both are.’

‘Yes.’ Bel took a deep breath. ‘I’ve come to tell you that we can’t possibly meet again.’