‘A wrench,’ said Marcus, and took an almond quickly.

‘Where’s Leni then?’ said Desmond. ‘You mislaid her somewhere this afternoon, Bea?’

‘No. She’s in the house,’ said Archie. ‘The last time I saw her she was tearing up the stairs with her head in a plastic bag from Galleries Lafayette.’

‘Good God!’ said Bea’ ‘She hasn’t smothered, has she? That wasn’t the idea at all, we’ve spent practically all afternoon wandering about endlessly, looking for a present which she insisted that she simply had to give tonight.’

‘A present?’ said Cuckoo.

‘Do you have a tame bear in the house by any chance?’

‘No.’

‘This is for someone, or something, called “Bruin”.’

‘Bruna!’ cried Cuckoo with a clap of hands. ‘My treasure! How divine! Leni did this?’

‘My dear, it took hours. Hours. We finally ended up with something of such amazing horror that if your treasure isn’t blind she will be by the second she claps sight on it.’

‘What can it be?’ said Marcus taking a glass of wine.

Bea shook a scatter of charms and fobs over her fist. ‘A ten inch block of clear plastic, stuffed with dead seahorses, sequins, and shells. That’s what it is. She says it’ll be very useful to whoever-it-is.’

‘Why?’said Cuckoo.

‘Because it has a dolly little barometer on it as well. And apparently the recipient will now be able to tell precisely when, or when not, to put out her washing. Logical?’ Bea sipped her wine.

‘That’s Leni,’ said Marcus. ‘Logical.’

‘And stubborn,’ said Bea reaching for a thin cigar.

‘As an ox.’

‘And she knows, I may add, just exactly what she wants.’

‘But, I mean, did she have enough money? I didn’t have a great deal left to spread around.’

Bea dropped a spent match into an ashtray. ‘My dear Marcus: she had an Army Surplus bag which literally bulged with crumpled Deutschmark notes. Throwing them around like rice at a wedding. She wasn’t mean.’

‘Leni? Where the heck did all that come from?’

‘She rob a bank recently? We spent what seemed like a year in Crédit Lyonnais changing the damned stuff. She’s stubborn all right.’ She was about to take her glass when she stopped. ‘Listen!’ she said, a finger high in warning. ‘Hark! Is that singing I hear? Or frogs?’

There was a silence on the terrace. From far away, as if from some open window in the house above them, a small voice drifted into the still air.

‘Singing!’ said Desmond. ‘Oh! I know that song! What’s its name? From years ago?’

‘Well listen,’ said Bea. ‘Don’t chunter on.’

‘Got it,’ said Cuckoo after a few moments. ‘I know. Of course! It’s that song you and she sang together that first evening, remember, Archie dear? Lilian Harvey?’

‘“Congress Dances”! That’s it!’ said Desmond. Goodness me, yes. That takes me back; donkey’s years. Lilian Harvey! Went to see it five times, absolutely besotted by her. Glorious creature. “Just Once for All Time”. That’s it!’