‘Oh no!’ It came out as a cry of frustration.

‘Can I help?’ asked a voice behind her.

She turned and saw Dante.

‘I’m on the cadge for money,’ she groaned. ‘Again! I’m desperate for something to drink.’

‘Then let me buy you some champagne.’

‘No, thank you, just some mineral water.’

‘Champagne is better,’ he said in the persuasive voice of a man about to embark on a flirtation.

‘No, water is better when you’re thirsty,’ she said firmly.

‘Then I can’t persuade you?’

‘No,’ she said, getting cross. ‘You can’t persuade me. What you can do is step out of my way so that I can leave. Goodnight.’

‘I apologise,’ he said at once. ‘Don’t be angry with me, I’m just fooling.’ To the bartender he added, ‘Serve the lady whatever she wants, and I’ll have a whisky.’

He slipped an arm about her, touching her lightly but firmly enough to prevent her escape, and guided her to a seat by the window. The barman approached and she seized the bottle of water, threw back her head and drank deeply.

‘That’s better,’ she said at last, gasping slightly. ‘I should be the one apologising. I’m in a rotten temper, but I shouldn’t take it out on you.’

‘You don’t like being dependent on people?’ he guessed.

‘Begging,’ she said in disgust.

‘Not begging,’ he corrected her gently. ‘Letting your friends help you.’

‘I’ll pay every penny back,’ she vowed.

‘Hush! Now you’re getting boring.’

Fearing that he might be right, she swigged some more water. It felt good.

‘You seem to be having a very disorganised holiday,’ he observed. ‘Have you been planning it for long?’

‘I didn’t plan it at all, just hurled a few things into a bag and flounced off.’

‘That sounds promising. You said you’re a photographer…’ He waited hopefully.

‘I specialise in the theatre, and film stills. He’s an actor, starring in a West End play. Or, at least, he was in a West End play until-’