‘No, I asked Loen to take her a tray upstairs,’ replied Gustavo, as he joined his mother at the breakfast table.

‘Is she unwell?’

‘No, Mãe, but for the past two months she was nursing her poor mother night and day. Which, as you can imagine, has taken its toll on her.’

‘I hope that she will not be too precious about her pregnancy,’ said Luiza. ‘I certainly wasn’t during mine.’

‘Really? I was talking to Father only last night and he mentioned how you were as sick as a dog for weeks when you were carrying me, and how you rarely rose from your bed,’ he countered as he poured himself some coffee. ‘Anyway, it is the news you have longed for, isn’t it? You must be overjoyed.’

‘I am, but . . .’

Gustavo watched as Luiza signalled for the maid to leave.

‘Close the door behind you, if you please,’ she added.

‘What is it now, Mãe?’ Gustavo asked her with a weary sigh.

‘This morning, I prayed long and hard in the chapel, asking for guidance as to whether I should tell you what I know or not.’

‘Well, given you’ve just requested the maid to leave us alone, I presume you have made your decision. And I assume it will be to do with some kind of misdemeanour you believe my wife has committed. Would I be right?’

Luiza’s face displayed an exaggeratedly pained expression. ‘Sadly, you would be, yes.’

‘Well then, spit it out. I have a busy day ahead of me.’

‘I have reason to believe that your wife has not been . . . faithful to you during your marriage.’

‘What?’ Gustavo exclaimed angrily. ‘Mãe, I seriously think you are becoming deluded! What evidence do you have of this?’

‘Gustavo, I understand your disbelief and anger, but I can assure you that I am not deluded. And yes, I do have proof.’

‘Really? And what is that?’

‘Our driver, Jorge, who you are aware has worked for me for many years, has seen Izabela entering the apartment building of a certain young’ – Luiza sniffed – ‘gentleman.’

‘You mean Jorge has driven her somewhere in the city to visit a friend perhaps, and you have twisted this into some kind of ridiculous accusation?’ said Gustavo, standing up from the table. ‘I wish to hear no more of this bile! What do you hope to achieve?’

‘Please, Gustavo, I beg you to sit down and listen,’ Luiza entreated him. ‘Your wife has never asked Jorge to take her directly to this particular young man’s address. In fact, she has had him drop her off in front of Madame Duchaine’s salon. Then one afternoon, when he was stuck fast in traffic, he saw Izabela leave the dressmaker’s a few minutes after she’d arrived, and hurry off into the streets of Ipanema.’

Gustavo sat down heavily. ‘So, Jorge came to you with this information of his own volition, did he?’

‘No,’ Luiza admitted. ‘My own suspicions were raised when I went one afternoon in May to the Igreja da Glória, where your wife had told me she was going when she’d left the house an hour earlier. She wasn’t there. I obviously asked Jorge that evening where Izabela had asked him to collect her from. He told me that it was from Madame Duchaine’s salon and confessed to me what I have just told you. I instructed him that the next time he drove her there and saw her leave after a few minutes, he was to follow your wife and find out where it was she was going.’