‘Lovely. I can’t think why I came home.’

‘Have you met Bella Parkinson?’

‘No, I haven’t. How do you do?’ She looked Bella over carefully. ‘I’ve read all about your play, of course. Macbeth isn’t it? I must come and see you.’

She turned back to Rupert and said, a little too casually, ‘How’s Lazlo?’

‘In Buenos Aires.’

She looked relieved. ‘That’s why he hasn’t rung. When’s he coming back?’

‘Next week sometime.’

‘Well, give him my love and tell him to ring me before my suntan fades.’ She drifted off to join her escort at the other end of the room.

‘She’s beautiful,’ sighed Bella, admiring her beautifully shod feet. ‘Who is she?’

‘Some bird of Lazlo’s.’

‘Who’s he?’

‘My cousin.’ He lowered his voice. ‘Evidently Lazlo complained her bed was too small, so she went out to Harrods and bought one three times the size.’

‘She’s mad about him. Is he attractive?’

‘Women think so. I know him too well. We work together.’

‘What at?’

‘Banking. We’ve got a bank in the City. But most of our business is tied up in South America. My father’s chairman but Lazlo really runs it.’

‘You look a bit Latin yourself.’

‘My father’s South American. My mother, alas, is pure English. She’s coming home next Friday, worse luck. I’m hoping someone will hijack her plane. She keeps sending me postcards telling me not to forget to water the guides.’

Bella giggled. ‘Who?’

‘One of her interests along with the Blind, the Deaf, the Undernourished, and any other charity she can poke her nose into. Alas, there’s no charity in her heart. Her life is spent sitting on committees and my father.’ He looked at Bella. ‘What were your parents like?’

Bella’s palms went damp. ‘My father was a librarian,’ she said quickly. ‘But he died when I was a baby, so my mother had to take a job as a schoolmistress to support me. We were always terribly poor.’