He stripped off his clothes and got under the shower, hoping to wash away the day. But nothing could banish the thoughts that had troubled him from the moment he’d arrived at the church with Carlo.

Carlo, the twin barely an hour younger than himself, who’d shared with him all the riotous pleasures of youth, now transformed into a man lit by a powerful inner joy. And the sight had thrown him off balance because it had called up a voice he’d thought he’d silenced long ago.

‘Forget the rest of the world-there’s only our world-what more do we need?’

Memories started to crowd in. She was as he’d first seen her, in a glittering tight red dress, low enough in front to show her exquisite bosom, high enough on the thigh to show off her endless legs. It was the attire of a woman who could attract men without trouble, who enjoyed attracting them and had no scruples about doing so as often as she pleased.

Within a few hours of their meeting he’d held her, naked, in his arms. Everything about her had been breathtaking-her body, the whisper of her voice, her laughter.

Other pictures crowded in: a day out together at the funfair, doing childish things. They’d sat together in a photo booth, arms entwined, heads leaning against each other, while the machine’s lights flashed. A moment later two pictures had appeared in the dish, and they had taken one each.

‘Sapphire,’ he murmured.

It was the only name she had ever told him. She’d kept her last name a secret, and even that had been part of her magic.

Magic. He’d resisted the idea, considering himself a prosaic man and proud of it. But Sapphire had burned with erotic power, dazzling him and luring him into a furnace from which he’d emerged reborn.

She’d been an adventurous lover, who hadn’t tamely waited for him in the bed but had come after him eagerly, appearing in the shower and sliding her arms around him as water laved them. How many times had he seen her shadow outside the frosted glass, then felt her beside him?