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well when her son died.’ He could see facts and emotions swirling, fighting for space as she took in his words. ‘I guess…I imagined it was up to her to tell others if she wanted. But she was frail already, and her son’s death made things…Well, she died three months later.’

      ‘So Zoe lost her grandmother as well.’

      Her eyes flew to his. She hadn’t expected that response, he thought, and wondered what she had expected.

      ‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘Thank you for recognising that. It did make things much harder.’

      ‘So then you stepped in.’

      ‘There was no one else.’

      ‘And now we have a mess,’ he said, choosing his words with care. ‘Yes, Christos hated the royal family, but it was King Giorgos he feared and Giorgos’s line is finished. The three Diamond Isles have splintered into three principalities. As Christos’s only child, Zoe’s the new Crown Princess of Khryseis. She’ll inherit full sovereign power when she’s twenty-five but until then, like it or not, I’m Prince Regent. Whether I want that power or not, the island’s desperate for change. The infrastructure’s appalling but I only have power for change if Zoe lives on Khryseis for at least three months of every year. Otherwise the power stays with an island council that’s as impotent as it is corrupt. Elsa, she has to come home.’

      She didn’t say a word.

      She was a really self-contained woman, he thought. He’d shaken her out of her containment but he’d done it with fear of losing Zoe. She had her self-containment back now, and he had no idea what was going in her head. He wouldn’t be privy to it until she decided to speak again.

      She poured two tumblers of water. She walked outside—not limping now, he thought, and found he was relieved. He could cope with an injured child—but not an incapacitated nanny as well. There were two ancient deckchairs on the porch. She sank into one of them and left it to him to decide whether to sit on the other.

      The chairs were old and stained and the one left vacant looked to be covered in cat fur.

      His trousers were jet-black with a slash of crimson up the side. Ceremonial uniform.

      ‘It brushes off,’ she said wryly, not looking at him. Gazing out through the palms to the sea beyond.

      He sat.

      ‘You have a cat?’ he asked, feeling his way.

      ‘Five,’ she said, and as he looked around she shook her head.

      ‘They won’t come near when you’re here. They’re feral cats. Cats are a huge problem up here—they decimate the wildlife. Only Zoe loves them. So we’ve caught every one we can. If they’re at all approachable we have them neutered. We feed them really well at dusk and again in the morning. We lock them up overnight where we feed them—in the little enclosure behind the house. That way they don’t need to kill wildlife to eat. Apart from our new little black one, they’re fat and lazy, and if you weren’t here they’d be lined up here snoozing their day away.’

      ‘You can afford to feed five cats?’

      Mistake. Once again she froze. ‘You’re inordinately interested in my financial affairs,’ she said flatly. ‘Can you tell me why they’re you’re business?’

      ‘You’re spending Zoe’s money.’

      ‘And you’re responsible for Zoe how? You didn’t even know she existed.’

      ‘Now I do know, she’s family.’

      ‘Good, then,’ she said. ‘Go talk to Zoe’s lawyers. They’ll tell you we put her money in a trust fund and I take out only what’s absolutely necessary for us to live.’

      ‘And the cats?’

      She sighed. ‘We catch fish,’ she said. ‘I cook the heads and innards with rice. That’s my cat food for the week. So yes, I waste rice and some fish heads on our cats. Shoot me now.’

      ‘I’m not criticising.’

      ‘You are,’ she said bluntly. ‘You said I’m struggling to care for her. Tell me in what way I’m struggling?’

      ‘Look at this place,’ he said before he could stop himself—and her simmering anger exploded.

      ‘I’m looking. I can’t see a palace, if that’s what you mean. I can’t see surround-sound theatre rooms and dishwashers and air-conditioning. I can’t see wall to wall carpet and granite bench tops. So how does Zoe need those?’

      ‘It’s falling down.’

      ‘So if it falls down I’ll rebuild. We have isolation, which Zoe needs until she gets her confidence back. We have our own private beach. We have my work—yes, I’m still doing research and I’m being paid a stipend which goes towards Zoe’s medical costs, but…’

      ‘You’re paying Zoe’s medical costs?’

      ‘Your investigator didn’t go very far if he didn’t find that out. Her parents hadn’t taken out medical insurance,’ she said. ‘In this country the basics are covered but there have been so many small things. The last lot of plastic surgery was on her shoulder. The surgeon was wonderful—that’s why we used him—but he only operates on private patients so we had to pay.’

      ‘You had to pay.’

      ‘Whatever.’

      ‘You can’t keep doing that.’

      ‘Try and stop me,’ she said, carefully neutral again. She’d obviously decided it was important to keep a rein on her temper.

      ‘Where does that leave you?’

      ‘Where I am.’

      ‘Stuck in the middle of nowhere, with a damaged child.’

      She put her drink carefully down on the packing case that served as their outdoor table. She rose.

      ‘You know, I’m not enjoying myself here and I have work to do. I correct assignments online and I try to do it while Zoe’s asleep. When she wakes we’ll drive you back into town. But meanwhile…Meanwhile you go take a walk on the beach, calculate cat food costs, do whatever you want, I don’t care. I believe any further dialogue should be through our lawyers.’

      And she walked deliberately inside and let the screen door bang closed after her.

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