But that was ten years ago. She pushed herself away from the stone wall, saw that the sun had dried her shirt, ran long fingers through her still fair hair and started to walk slowly back towards the house. What an absurd morning that had been. What a peculiar morning. Archie going through his change of life with a vengeance. And what a very strange time to remember it all now. Life had gone on, after all. She trod carefully along the gravel path. On her left through the trees the wide bay glittered in the afternoon sun; the American frigate, she saw, was still there where it had been the day she left, lying like a grey plastic toy in a washbowl, a liberty boat leaving in a curving creamy wake for the harbour. Tonnino had replanted the long-walk bed in her absence with ugly little pink and red begonias. It looked like a municipal park in Stockport. Oh for phlox, lupins, canterbury bells and pretty-maids-all-in-a-row! The tumbled splendour of English gardens she had known. But we have begonias. To thrive in half-shade. Like me. I must try to thrive in half-shade. Only it is just possible that I shall find it not something that I can do. Easily.

She saw Archie standing at the top of the slope ahead of her as she left the shade of the trees and went up towards the terrace. Blue blazer, buttons winking, flannels crisp: neat, trim, elegant as befitted a military historian. A seventy-year-old historian who looked, from this distance and in the glowing sun, a very good fifty-six. She felt, for the first time in some days, a little charge of pleasure at the familiar, comforting sight of him. The shade thinned a little. Shadows slipped away. Almost. A nightlight in the nursery. That is Archie now. My nightlight, dispelling a little the bogies, admitting the gentle forms of safe, familiar things. She was comforted as he raised a hand in careful greeting, and waved back, hurrying up the last few steps of the slope to take both his offered hands in hers, smiling.

He shook his head wryly. ‘Capricious creature. Took us all by surprise as usual: a day early and no real warning.’ He bent to kiss her cheek, his lemony scent refreshing and cool, his hands firm, secure, holding.

‘I just couldn’t take another day in London. Drizzle and grey, and hundreds of Arabs flopping along to Harrods as if it were Mecca.’

‘Probably is to some of them.’

‘So I just decided to get an earlier flight. Ducked a frightful dinner for some Chinese diplomat at the Harper-Gore’s tonight. That really settled it. I’d done all I had to do … so I just came home.’

Little lies, she thought, have always come easily to me. How fortunate.

‘I would have met you, darling. But I’d fixed luncheon with Willie and Gogie.’

She patted his hand and started up the terrace steps. ‘No point. Angelo was there with the car. One small suitcase. All so simple.’