‘Bruna, dear Bruna, don’t drag me. I’m rather stiff, my arm hurts. This kind young man is Mr Pollock. You pulled me out, didn’t you? So lucky, he was … you were swimming there, weren’t you?’

‘Yes. Swimming.’

‘Wasn’t that lucky, Archie?’

‘You shouldn’t go down there alone, it’s frightfully dangerous. Come along, let’s get you to bed. I’ll call Poteau.’

‘I don’t need a doctor, Archie. Just stiff, and wet. Don’t fuss.’ She turned at the first step and raised her hand towards Marcus. ‘It was so good of you. I’m most terribly grateful … terribly grateful. I’ll just get out of these things. You won’t go away, will you? Archie, give him a drink.’

‘Get upstairs, Cuckoo. Bruna, take her to bed. I’ll call Dr Poteau.’

He watched the two women cross the terrace and into the house.

Marcus was standing at the foot of the steps, barefoot on the gravel path; he pushed his hand through almost dry hair. ‘I’ll be off then,’ he said.

Archie turned quickly. ‘Oh no, don’t go. Do have a drink, something. Beer? I’ll just call the doctor, I think I’d better. Come up into the drawing-room, drinks are all there. Do help yourself. Come along, I’ll show you the way, just must get Poteau.’ He hurried up the steps leaving the boy to follow slowly, stand awkwardly at the terrace doors.

‘Over there, on that little table,’ said Archie, waving vaguely across the drawing-room. ‘Help yourself. Please do, anything you like.’ He hurried out into the hall and Marcus, crossing the thick white carpet uncomfortably, heard him start to dial a number.

The decanters on the table sparkled in the last of the sun. He looked round the big white room, feeling uneasy, barefoot and practically naked among the deep white chairs, bowls of flowers, shining wood, silver frames. Abruptly he walked back on to the terrace, leant against one of the marble pillars, cold on his back. Archie came hurrying out, worried, aged and thin, as if he had been pressed for a long time between the pages of a book.

‘Ah, there you are. He’s coming right away … lucky I caught him. I don’t know your name, do I? Did my wife mention it. Such a worry.’

‘Yes, she did. Pollock.’

‘It was so good of you. What on earth did she do?’

‘Slipped. On a flat rock. It wasn’t anything much. Just a little fall.’

‘Bit of a shock, of course. At her age. She’s tired, just come back from London.’ He was twisting one of the brass buttons on his blazer. ‘I say, no drink? Won’t you have something?’

‘No thanks. All my gear is down there. Haversack, wallet, so on. I’d better go back.’

‘You were down there, were you? By the rock?’