So it seemed that, ironically, within the space of a few hours, both of us had lost our fathers to a watery grave.

I stood up, pacing the room, trying to remove the image of his face – which seemed if anything even more handsome than I’d remembered it – from my mind.

Think about the pain he caused you, Maia, I told myself. It’s over, it was over years ago. Don’t go back there, whatever you do.

But of course, as I sighed and sank down onto the sofa, drained of energy, I knew it could never truly be over.

5

A couple of hours later, I heard the soft humming of the motor launch heralding the arrival of Electra. I took a deep breath and tried to pull myself together. Walking out of the house and into the moonlit gardens, the dew warm under my bare feet, I saw Electra was already crossing the lawns towards me. Her beautiful ebony skin seemed to glow with a lustre in the moonlight as her endless legs made short work of the distance between us.

At over six feet tall, Electra always made me feel insignificant next to her statuesque, effortless elegance. As she reached me, it was she who clasped me tightly to her, my head fitting snugly into her chest.

‘Oh Maia!’ she moaned. ‘Please tell me it isn’t true? He can’t have gone, he simply can’t have. I . . .’

Electra began to sob loudly and I decided that, rather than disturb the other sisters currently sleeping in the house, I’d take her into the Pavilion. I steered her gently in its direction, and she continued to cry pitifully as I closed the door behind us, led her into the sitting room and sat her down on the sofa.

‘Maia, what will we all do without him?’ she asked me, her glowing amber eyes entreating me to give her the answer.

‘There’s nothing we can do to take away the pain of his loss, but I hope at least that with all of us being here together, we can comfort each other,’ I said, hurriedly taking a box of tissues from the shelf and putting them next to her on the sofa. She took one and wiped her eyes. ‘I haven’t stopped crying since Ma told me. I just can’t bear it, Maia, I simply can’t.’

‘No, none of us can,’ I agreed. And as I watched and listened to her outpouring of grief, I thought how her arresting, sensuous physical presence was so at odds with the vulnerable little girl who inhabited her soul. Often I’d see photos of her in magazines on the arm of a film star or a rich playboy, looking fabulous and totally in control, and I’d wonder if it could really be the same woman as the emotionally volatile sister I knew. I’d come to believe that Electra craved constant displays of love and attention to satisfy some inherent deep-seated insecurity.