‘And the baby?’ Eliza asked, feeling uncertain.
‘I miscarried.’
‘I’m so sorry.’ There was a moment’s silence. ‘You never had another?’
‘Don’t feel pity for me. For a long time I felt dead inside, but Julian and I have been happy since and I truly love him.’
‘Would it be terribly impertinent to ask, why no children?’
‘I’m afraid Julian can’t.’
‘Did you know that when you married him?’
Dottie shook her head, and her eyes filled with tears. Eliza put an arm around the older woman’s shoulders. ‘You know, when I was in England my mother muttered something about me having a half-sister.’
‘Really? Have you any idea who?’
‘None. I don’t even know if it was true.’
‘Well then,’ Dottie said. ‘Let me be your sister.’
They were sitting like that, both looking tearful, when Clifford came in.
‘Goodness, Dottie, I hope you have not caught this crying disease of Eliza’s,’ he said.
Eliza pretended to laugh, while Dottie rubbed her tears away with her hands.
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Clifford,’ Eliza said. ‘There’s nothing wrong with Dottie.’
‘So? Like the camera?’
Eliza got to her feet and came across to him.
‘I love it. Exactly the right make and model. Thank you.’ And Clifford, looking pleased, gave her a peck on the cheek.
The camera turned out to be just what Eliza needed. Straight away she took photos of Dottie’s beautiful garden, of the house, of Dottie herself, and then pleaded with Clifford for a servant to assist her when she went into town to explore the old city. There she took photographs of faces, flowers, food, of anything she could see. She thought she spotted Indi, but when the person turned it was not the girl; however, it only made her more determined to go back to the castle for her equipment.
One afternoon she wandered about aimlessly, then sat quietly in Dottie’s garden bathed in sunshine, wondering how to broach the subject of visiting the castle to arrange the return of her belongings. When Clifford came striding towards her with a wide grin on his face she realized she should have chosen to sit in one of the wicker armchairs.
He sat down beside her on the bench but didn’t speak. She watched him for a few moments, steadying herself by holding her hands together in her lap and managing to avoid shifting away from him.
‘Well,’ she said. ‘What is it? You are clearly itching to tell me something.’
‘Indeed, I am,’ he said, and she faltered under his direct gaze. ‘The thing is, old girl, I’ve gone ahead and set the date.’
‘Oh,’ she said, and looked at her feet while rearranging the folds of her skirt. When she attempted to think of something else to say, her mind went blank.
‘You don’t sound very happy. I thought you’d be pleased.’
She blinked away the heat rising in her eyes and breathed slowly and deeply. He knew perfectly well she had been delaying and, if he didn’t, he was even more thick-skinned than she had previously thought. She recalled how she had once thought he might be a sensitive man; how wrong she had been.
He was still waiting for an answer, so she looked up, but not at him, and seeing so clearly the vision of Jay in her mind’s eye it was painful. The attraction couldn’t be explained by reason alone, and it wasn’t just that Jay was handsome and intelligent, it was his sensitivity too. The way he engaged with her, as if whatever she might say was of infinite interest to him.
‘When?’ she eventually said.
‘October. Should be cooler weather by then. Not this damn, god-forsaken heat.’
‘Where?’
