‘Er-yes-er-’

He was trying to ogle me and avert his eyes at the same time. Looking down at myself, I understood. The water had made the silver dress almost transparent.

‘Can you tell me how to find the British Consul?’ I begged.

‘No idea,’ he said hastily. ‘But you might find someone at the casino who’d know. Lots of Brits there. Head up that hill. Coming, Gina!’

And he was gone.

I began to climb up the slope that led to the town. It was hard because I’d lost my shoes in the water. Plus I had to keep to the shadows, in case I got arrested for going around half naked.

I managed to make it to the casino, and slip into the gardens without attracting attention, but then I realised I had a problem.

What should I do? Walk in like this?

There was an open door, with light pouring from within. I could make out the shapes of people moving back and forth, the sound of music and laughter. It was a tempting scene, the kind where I would once have been at home.

Gamblers, people who live on the edge, high rollers: I’d always felt comfortable with them. That buzz of anticipation is something I understand. Well, in my family you have to.

But right now I was on the outside looking in, desperate, stranded, not a penny to my name, nothing but the clothes I was almost wearing.

Then something happened.

A man came out of the casino and stood breathing in the night air. He was dressed for a night out-dinner jacket, black bow tie, frilled shirt. All conventional stuff.

It was the man himself who drew my eyes. He was tall, over six foot, broad shouldered, long-legged, with a head of thick hair that was just on the edge of curling. He looked like someone who was used to living well. Everything about him spoke of a healthy animal who took the good things of life for granted and enjoyed them to the full.