POLLY gave them fifteen minutes before entering Ruggiero’s room, where he lay in bed, now dressed in dark brown silk pyjamas. Hope sat beside him.

‘That headache’s pretty terrible, isn’t it?’ Polly asked sympathetically.

‘You could say that,’ he said in a painful whisper.

‘This will make it better and give you some sleep.’ She opened one hand, showing him a couple of pills, and held up a glass of water in the other.

This time he didn’t argue, but struggled up and swallowed the pills, and lay back at once, eyes closed.

‘He’ll be better in the morning,’ Polly assured Hope. ‘Why don’t you go back to your guests?’

‘I don’t like to leave him alone.’

‘Don’t worry-he won’t be alone,’ Polly said. ‘I’m staying here.’

‘Are you sure that-?’

Hope checked herself suddenly, and a strange look came over her face. Her children could have told her that it meant Mamma was hatching a plot, but Polly, seeing it for the first time, was merely puzzled.

‘Of course you’re right,’ Hope said. ‘I know he’s safe with you.’

She gave Polly a peck on the cheek and hurried out. Polly turned out all the lights except one small lamp, and went to the window. From there she could see light as the guests spilled out into the garden. Luckily the double glazing deadened the sound, although she doubted if he would have heard anything for a while even without that.

He stirred, groaning softly, and she returned to the bed.

‘It’s all right,’ she said. ‘I’m here. Let it go.’

She could hardly have said what she meant by those words, but he seemed to understand them at once and became quiet. She drew up a chair and sat close to the bed, leaning forward to whisper, ‘Let it go. There’ll be time later. But for now-let her go.’

He gave no sign of hearing, so she couldn’t tell if he’d heard the subtle change she’d made in the words.