“I’m sworn to secrecy. But he and I have an understanding. He’s not at all the way people say he is, although it’s true he does have the most enviable parties. There was one occasion when a few of his guests went for a midnight wander and ended up in my garden. Delightful women, although very economical with their clothing.”

“You mean cheap?”

“I was referring to the volume rather than the value.” Kathleen sipped her drink. “One was wearing the bottom half of a very brief bikini, and nothing else. Finn might consider it presumptuous of me to say so, but I consider us to have a friendship of sorts.”

“That’s a great story.” Was that why they’d been upgraded at the hotel? Maybe management thought Kathleen was related to Finn Cool. Hilarious. With luck they’d have rock star treatment all the way. “So you’ve been to Chicago before. How about California?”

Kathleen put her glass down. “Never.”

“This is a dream trip for you?” She could see from Kathleen’s expression that she’d asked the wrong question, and quickly moved on. “I’ve never been to America before. I’ve been to Italy. On a school trip. That’s it.”

Kathleen was staring across the skyline with a faraway look in her eyes.

“Kathleen?” Martha was tempted to snap her fingers to check that she was conscious. “Would you like another drink?”

Kathleen blinked. “I’d better not.” She picked up her empty glass. “I’m not supposed to drink with my blood pressure tablets.”

Martha thought about the three cocktails. “What happens if you do?”

“I don’t know. We might be about to find out.”

Hopefully not. “The risotto was delicious. So was the cocktail. Thank you.”

“Have another.” Kathleen waved at the cute waiter. “If you don’t misbehave when you’re twenty-five, you don’t have anything to look back on when you’re eighty. If the time comes when I’m too decrepit to travel and maintain my independence I shall spend my days traveling through my memories, and when that happens I should very much like them to be interesting. I’m sure you will feel the same.”

Martha couldn’t imagine being eighty, but she’d allowed herself to be persuaded, and she’d allowed herself to be persuaded the night after too, which was why she was now standing in front of a sports car with the aftereffects of the three cocktails still hammering away at her brain. The hot sun beat down on the shiny red sports car, making the paintwork gleam and dazzle.