Barbara continued threading a needle. He’s doing this to punish me, she thought, as though I cared now. ‘How you men like to flirt with servants,’ she said lightly. ‘I suppose it’s a fantasy, a public-school thing.’

‘If you knew what some of my fantasies are,’ he said, ‘you wouldn’t like them.’ Something in his tone made her look at him sharply. He looked at her coldly and took another swig of whisky.

‘I must get that pattern Mum sent,’ she said. She went out and stood in the hall, taking deep breaths. Sometimes she just had to get away from him. She would think, I’ll sit with him for an hour, then get out for a few minutes. And that’ll be another hour nearer getting away for good.

She went up to their bedroom. She didn’t need the pattern but supposed she had better take it. While she was there she unlocked the drawer in her bureau and fingered her bank book. She was glad the bureau had a good strong lock; she always kept the key in her pocket.

She took a deep breath. She would have to go back downstairs, try to calm things. She could ask him how things were going with Harry, whether Harry was joining this project, whatever it was. But if he insisted on using Pilar to mock her, let him. She would pretend to be hurt and that would be another excuse to avoid making love if he came near her again.

TO HER RELIEF Sandy didn’t mention Pilar again that evening. When she asked him about Harry he said he had invited him to dinner again on Thursday week. He got up, saying there was some paperwork he needed to sort out in his study. She sighed with relief as the door closed behind him.

Shortly afterwards she heard the telephone ring twice then suddenly stop; Sandy must have answered it on the study extension. It made her jump slightly; she started again a moment later as the doorbell rang loudly. Who on earth’s this, she thought, it’s getting late. She put down her sewing.

She heard Pilar come up from the kitchen, her heels clacking on the tiles. A minute later she knocked and entered the salón. Little as she cared what Sandy did now, Barbara felt a spurt of anger. ‘Who is it?’ she asked.

Pilar wouldn’t meet her eyes. ‘If you please, señora, it is a man to see Señor Forsyth. He looks a little – ’ she hesitated – ‘foreign. I know Señor Forsyth does not like to be disturbed in his study.’

‘I’ll see who it is.’ She got up and walked past the girl. A blast of cold air came from the hall; Pilar had left the front door ajar. A small elderly man in a stained coat and a battered Homburg hat stood on the doorstep. He wore spectacles held together over the bridge of his nose with tape. He lifted his hat.

‘¿Perdon, señora, esta el señor Forsyth en casa?’ He spoke Spanish slowly and with effort, in a strong French accent. Barbara replied in French.

‘Yes. How can we help you?’

The old man’s face creased with relief. ‘Ah, you speak French. My Spanish is poor. I am sorry to disturb you. My name is Blanc, Henri Blanc, I have something I must give Señor Forsyth.’ He felt inside his coat, producing a little canvas bag. It made a chinking sound. Barbara stared in puzzlement.

‘I am sorry,’ he said. ‘I should explain. I am one of the refugees Señor Forsyth has been assisting.’

‘Oh, I see.’ That explained the down-at-heel clothes, the French accent. He was one of the Jews. She held the door open. ‘Please come in.’

The old man shook his head. ‘No, no, please. I do not wish to disturb you so late. Only I heard today I have my pass to go to Lisbon.’ He smiled, unable to conceal his delight. ‘I leave with my family early tomorrow. I could not go without bringing what I had promised.’ He proffered the bag again. ‘Please, take it. Tell him it is pure quality as I said. These have been in our family a long time but it is worth it to get to Lisbon.’

‘All right.’ Barbara took the package. ‘You must have had a long walk – are you sure you won’t come in for a minute?’ She looked at his shoes, the heels were almost worn away, he had probably walked from France in them.

‘No, thank you. I must get back.’ He smiled. ‘But I had to keep my promise. Thank Señor Forsyth for me. We have been so worried; we hear the Germans are sending Republican refugees back from France and worry they may demand us in return. But now we will be safe, thanks to your husband.’ He reached out and shook her hand, then replaced his hat and turned, limping slowly down the drive.

Barbara closed the door. She saw a shadow at the top of the basement stairs and realized Pilar had been standing there listening. Was this how it was going to be with her from now on?

‘Pilar,’ she called sharply, ‘could you make me a chocolate please.’ The shadow jumped and the girl called, ‘Sí, señora.’ Her footsteps clumped rapidly down the steps to the kitchen. Barbara stood in the hall, weighing the bag in her hands. It wasn’t coins, it was something lighter. She went back into the salon and opened the drawstring. She tipped the contents into her palm.

There were rings and necklaces, a couple of brooches and some strangely shaped items that looked as though they might have a religious function. They were all gold, bright shiny gold. She frowned, puzzled.

She supposed she had better take the bag up to Sandy. She mounted the stairs slowly. The central heating hissed and gurgled in the quiet hallway. A light shone under the study door. She could hear him talking, he must still be on the telephone. She was about to knock but something in his tone stopped her. It reminded her of when he had mentioned his fantasies earlier.

‘He should be talking by now. You’ve had him all day. What have you done to him?’ There was silence, then Sandy’s voice again. ‘Those old Moroccan sweats are tough. He still says Gomez is his real name? Well, I suppose it makes sense, they’d have had to run up forged papers for a false name and that’s Gestapo territory.’ There was more silence, a couple of grunts acknowledging what the man at the other end was saying, then Sandy’s voice again, a harsh, angry edge to it. ‘I’ll leave it in your capable hands.’ He paused, then added, ‘There’re enough places around Santa Maria. Look, I’ve got to go. I’ve Brett’s paperwork here. No, he trusts me. Yes. Adíos.’ There was a tinkle as he replaced the receiver.

The phrases rang in Barbara’s head. What have you done to him? Gestapo territory. And Harry was involved somehow. She stood there, heart thumping. She heard Sandy opening a drawer in his desk, a grunt. She swallowed and stepped quietly from the door, holding the canvas bag tightly. She would give it to him later.

In the salón Pilar had left a cup of chocolate on the sewing table. She sat down heavily, the bag in her lap. Just what the hell was Sandy involved in? She thought again of his taunt about his fantasies. He could be capable of anything, she thought; I’ve never really known him at all. She swallowed again and placed the bag on the sewing table. She stared at it, her body tensed, ears alert for his footstep outside.