Agatha knew in that moment that if she said, yes, she would stay, James would hate it, would think she was crowding him.

“Thank you,” she said brightly. “I’ll check out of the hotel tomorrow.”

James gave a little sigh but settled down to arrange the rent and ask about local shops.

Agatha went upstairs. There was a big bedroom with a double bed. French windows opened up onto an upstairs terrace. Next to it was a single bedroom. Then, through a narrow bathroom and down wooden steps, there was another bedroom with a view of the sea and with a single bed under the window.

She would take this, she decided, and give James the double bedroom.

She went back downstairs by a back stair which led off her new room. There was a summer living-room which looked out onto a terrace and garden, and a winter living-room where the negotiations were taking place. The kitchen was vast. Looking out of the kitchen window, she saw the car-park of the restaurant through a screen of mimosa bushes.

Jackie joined her. “That’s a very good fish restaurant. The manager, Umit Erener, is a friend of ours.”

“I might try it.”

Jackie’s eyes twinkled. “Does Mr. Lacey always call you Mrs. Raisin?”

“Only in the company of strangers,” said Agatha stiffly. All the time she was thinking, I shouldn’t have said I would stay. I’ll have driven him further into his shell. “He’s old-fashioned.”

As she and James finally drove off. Agatha said, “I’ve selected that little single bedroom at the front of the house, you know, the one you have to walk through the bathroom to get to.”

He swivelled his head angrily and glared at her. “You WHAT?”

“I-I said I thought I’d sleep in that little room at the front of-”

“I thought that’s what you said, Agatha, but I can hardly believe my ears. I am renting this villa, not you, and yet you immediately take over and decide where you want to sleep!”

“I’m sorry,” said Agatha huffily. “I thought you would like the master bedroom.”

“Just stop thinking for me, will you?”

Agatha bit her lip. She had been about to say, forget it, she would stay at the hotel, but the whole reason she was there was to get him back.

Why do you want such a cold pig? sneered a voice in her head.

When he stopped outside The Dome, he said in a cold voice and staring straight ahead, “No doubt I shall see you tomorrow.”

Agatha cracked. “Oh, stuff you and your stupid villa,” she howled, tears starting to her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I’m still angry at being ripped off by Mustafa and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. See here, we’ll have dinner tonight. I’ll see you in the dining-room of your hotel at eight.”

Agatha gave a watery sniff. “See you then.”

The trouble was, she thought, when she stood out on her hotel balcony and watched the surge of the grey-black Mediterranean pounding on the rocks below, that being in a foreign country made her feel lost and vulnerable.

But they would have dinner together. In the evening, the tables were set out in the open air on the terrace. She would reserve a table at the edge overlooking the sea. She would put on her best gown.

She walked back in and studied her face in the glass. Oh, those treacherous lines around the eyes and round the mouth! She slapped on a face pack and settled down to wait for the evening ahead.

By five to eight, she was ready to go downstairs to the dining-room. She felt she had never looked better. Her hair was brushed and shining, her face smooth under carefully applied foundation, lipstick and mascara. She was wearing a low-cut red chiffon gown and high-heeled black patent-leather shoes. She felt sure she had lost inches already with the sauna-like heat.

Her mind wandered off into a dream. The blustery wind had stopped blowing. They would sit at that table she had reserved earlier, looking at each other across the candle-light. At the end of the meal, he would reach across the table and take her hand. An electric current would pass between them. Silently he would lead her up to her room and then…and then…

She jerked out of her dream with an effort. It was now eight o’clock and James was always punctual.

When she stood at the entrance to the dining-room, the noise hit her full in the face. It was Saturday night and a belly-dancer was performing. Everyone was clapping her and cheering and laughing.

And then she saw James. He was not sitting at the table she had reserved for them but at a table in the centre of the dining-room-with Rose, Olivia, Harry, George, Angus and Trevor. They waved to her and she went reluctantly to join them.

“We heard your fellah asking the metter dee for Mrs. Raisin’s table,” shouted Rose, “so we says, she’s a friend of ours. Come and join the party. Park your bum next to Trevor and we’ll have some wine.”

Agatha looked desperately at James but he was talking to Olivia. She tried to talk to Trevor, but the noise of the music was so loud that she gave up. How was Olivia managing to cope? Probably braying as usual.

The belly-dancer approached their table and Trevor asked her to dance on it for them, which she promptly did. But she was joined by Rose, who climbed up on the table as well and began gyrating beside the belly-dancer. Agatha closed her eyes to block out the sight, for Rose was wearing a very short, fringed skirt and no knickers.

At last, with a roll of drums, the belly-dancer swayed out of the restaurant and the music fell silent.

“That was a bit of all right, hey, James,” said Rose, batting her eyelashes at him.

“Not enough belly,” said James. “Too thin.”

“That’s why you like old Aggie,” shrieked Rose. “Good armful.”

Agatha’s glass of wine trembled in her hand. She was restraining herself from throwing the contents into Rose’s face.

James began talking to Olivia and George. It seemed they had friends in common, which left Agatha to talk to the common friends, namely Rose, Trevor and Angus.

“So what’ve you bin doing today, Agatha?” asked Rose.

“We went to rent a villa together,” said Agatha stiffly.

“Fast worker, Aggie,” said Rose.

“She isn’t the only one,” said Trevor, his voice thick with drink.

“I wasn’t talking about Agatha. I was talking about James,” said Rose. “How did you meet him, Agatha?”

“We solved several murder cases together,” said Agatha. “He’s my neighbour.”

Rose’s eyes sharpened. “After we ’ad that talk on the boat, I remembered something. It came back to me. You pair were about to get married when your husband turned up at the wedding. Read it in the papers and laughed myself silly. You’re a character, Agatha.”

“And I wonder a lot about people,” said Agatha in a thin voice. “I often wonder, for example, why some clever women insist of behaving like stupid sluts.”

There was a silence. James had paused in his conversation with Olivia and heard Agatha’s remark. So had Olivia, and her eyebrows had risen to her hairline.

And then Trevor said, “I’ve often noticed the same thing. That’s why I’m lucky I’ve got Rose. She’s always just herself.”

“Yes,” said Angus portentously, “with Rose, what you see is what you get.”

Rose winked at Agatha, who immediately felt ashamed of herself. “Let’s have another couple of bottles of wine on me,” she said.

This was hailed with cheers and only then did Agatha regret her generosity. With the exception of James, the party began to get drunk. They had already drunk a copious amount, and Agatha’s gift tipped them over the edge.

Agatha began to wonder if she could manage to persuade James to go somewhere after the meal for a quiet coffee, somewhere quiet. There was a pleasant outdoor café along from the hotel. They would sit there and chat. They would…

“The night is young,” cried Rose, her face flushed and her eyes glittering. “There’s disco along the coast. Let’s boogie.”