‘Look, after tomorrow I don’t know when I will see you again,’ James began. ‘Perhaps never. And I wanted to say something to you privately before I go. Whatever wonders the Winter Garden might have, I’m not sure that any wish could really fix what happened all those years ago with your mother. Some things – some mistakes … Well, we just have to live with them, that’s all. And there’s no shortcut or magical solution that will undo them.’

Beatrice flushed. There were things she had told James during their travels together that she had never told anyone else. Something about being abroad seemed to break down the barriers between them, especially after he came to her aid the night Johnston broke into the hold.

‘Thank you for the unsolicited advice.’ She turned away from him to look out at the garden. ‘I hope you find every happiness in India. Now please. Leave me alone.’

‘Very well,’ he said quietly. ‘I’ll speak to you in the morning. But, please – at least think about what I’ve said.’

Beatrice didn’t bother to respond and, at last, she heard the door close as James left the roof. Snowflakes settled on her eyelashes and the cold wind tugged gently at her cloak. James was wrong. He had to be. The Winter Garden could deliver the wish it had promised. And Beatrice was going to win it. She lingered on the roof for a few moments more before returning to her bedroom, where she put the laudanum flask carefully in one of the drawers before undressing for bed.

When she slipped beneath the sheets she tried to summon up some pleasure at the success of her garden’s opening night, but her mind was a carousel of worries and regrets; and, finally, she was forced to retrieve the laudanum flask. She knew by now that it was no medicine – that it was, in fact, a vice that did her no good whatsoever. But by the time she had truly appreciated this, it was too late. Her body craved it as it craved air. In winter especially she often could not get through the long nights without it.

The familiar euphoria rushed in soon after taking it, warming her so thoroughly that even the open window was not enough to cool her down. So she took her furs and went back up to the roof where the world was not on fire.

It was cold and still there, and she could finally be comfortable and at ease with herself as she watched the snowflakes turn into winter fairies that danced and spun around her. For a long time it was the most beautiful show, played out across the vast stage of the night sky, with icy stars for spotlights and the flowers below for an audience. At one point she was sure she even saw the rippling icy glitter of the tiger walking between the turrets.