‘It’s a ghost story, but I won’t say any more than that.’

He laughed, then sat up and peered out over the heads of the seated crowd. ‘I thought I saw your admirer again back there. I took a picture, here.’

She peered at the image on his camera, and made out the man in the dark glasses, taller than the people around him, with black hair slicked back. ‘Oh yes, that’s him. He’s rather sinister, isn’t he?’

‘Like a Mexican gangster. Can’t see him now though.’

‘He’s probably gone home to his luxury penthouse, which is what we should be doing. Come on.’

They finished their drinks and got to their feet, feeling stiff now and tired, and threaded their way down the row of chairs and through the trees onto the avenue leading back to the entrance gates, becoming part of a solid stream of people making their way out onto Lower Sloane Street.

‘No sign of a cab,’ he muttered.

‘Doesn’t matter. It isn’t far. Do us good.’

He doubted that. The question was whether they would have enough energy left to climb all those stairs at the hotel when they got back.

They crossed Sloane Square and continued up Sloane Street. There were fewer people on the footpath now and they walked at a steady pace together, her arm in his. Once, he recalled, a couple of decades ago, he had harboured fantasies about doing just this, running off to London or Paris with Nancy, their spouses none the wiser. He had never asked her. Would she have agreed? It was an intriguing question and one that he might put to her, late one evening over a bottle of wine. But now those spouses had passed away, and so had the lustful impulse. Now she was just a very good friend, as agreeable a travelling companion as anyone might wish for.

And as he formed that thought, a massive blow on his right shoulder sent him crashing to the ground. Dazed, head crackling with confusion, he lay on the concrete pavement aware of a harsh squealing noise that filled the air, and then abrupt silence. He tried to push himself upright but his arm and shoulder seemed to have no strength. He heard screams, human ones this time, and the sound of running feet. Someone was bending over him, asking if he was all right.