‘I know, my princesa, and I promise I will try. But forgive me; at this moment, arriving here to this emptiness, it is impossible.’

Seeing that Jorge had just pulled the car up into the drive to collect her, Bel went to her father and hugged him tightly to her. ‘Try to remember that you still have me. I love you, Pai.’

As she left the drawing room and walked into the hall, she saw Loen and Gabriela whispering together.

‘Jorge is here, Loen, and we must leave,’ she said, then turned to Gabriela. ‘You can see how my father is,’ she said helplessly.

‘Senhora, I will do my best to comfort him. And perhaps, with God’s blessing, he will recover. Please remember that time is a great healer.’

‘Thank you. I’ll be back to see him tomorrow. Come, Loen.’

Bel watched as mother and daughter said a fond goodbye, which only served to underline her own terrible loss.

On the short drive to the Casa, Bel wondered what she would encounter when she arrived. She’d ignored Gustavo’s frequent telephone calls as often as she dared, asking Fabiana to tell him she was with her mother, and only speaking to him when she had to. Although to her surprise, when she’d told him of her mother’s death, his response had been unusually sympathetic. And he’d sounded sober. When she’d assured him there was no need to attend the funeral, which Carla had requested to be for close family only, Gustavo had said that he understood and would look forward very much to seeing her on her return.

In the strange hinterland of approaching death, Bel had spent little time contemplating her future, but as they neared her marital home, she realised she must begin to face it. Especially one particular part of it, which she’d discussed with Loen only last week, who’d reassured her that these things could be brought on by stress. She’d allowed herself to be comforted by her maid’s theory, unable to begin to contemplate the complexity of the alternative while her heart was so full of grief.

Bel entered the house, noticing as she always did the change from the warmth of the air outside to the chilly atmosphere within. She shivered involuntarily as Loen helped her remove her hat, wondering if she should simply climb the stairs straight up to her bedroom, or go in search of her husband or his parents. There was certainly no sympathetic welcome committee waiting for her here.

‘I will take your suitcase upstairs to your room, unpack and draw you a bath, Senhora Bel,’ said Loen, sensing her discomfort and giving her shoulder a light pat of understanding as she moved to walk upstairs.

‘Hello?’ Bel called into the empty hallway.

There was no reply. She called again, to no response, and finally decided to follow Loen up the stairs.

Suddenly, a figure emerged from the drawing room. ‘I see you are home at last.’