Eclipse. Lynne Pemberton

wearing a fine silk shirt, velvet trousers and open-toed shoes without stockings, was beginning to feel cold. She started to propel Serena towards the door.

      ‘No. It’s something that won’t wait.’

      ‘OK, let’s see what won’t wait.’ Rachel started to follow her friend across the road.

      As they reached the Range Rover, Serena opened the hatchback and handed over a small, cardboard box containing what looked like a bundle of rags.

      It was not until Rachel reached the hall and the bundle moved slightly, that the realization of what it actually contained dawned upon her.

      ‘Serena, this is a bloody baby!’

      Serena was right behind her. ‘Yes, and I’ve got her sister here. Quickly Rachel, premature babies have to be kept very warm.’

      She pushed her astonished friend through her own hall and up the one flight of stairs into a small dining area at one end of a vast space. The whole room was awash with flowering plants, all in an eclectic assortment of pots. A circular, teak dining table and six chairs also filled the room.

      Rachel gingerly placed the box she was carrying on top of the table, then waited for Serena to put her own package down next to it. She began to speak, but Serena placed her index finger to her lips and signalled to her, ‘Shushhh.’

      Very gently she opened the tight cocoon of blankets, slipped her hand carefully inside, and felt each tiny body in turn. Satisfied that they were alive and warm, she turned to Rachel.

      ‘I could do with that drink now.’

      ‘You and me, both!’ stressed Rachel, as she disappeared into the kitchen to pour two large brandies.

      Serena crossed over to an L-shaped sofa at the other end of the room; here she draped her coat and then finally sat down.

      Rachel joined her, holding out a brandy goblet. It was half full.

      ‘I thought you might need it straight. I suspect that I will. Cheers!’ She took a deep gulp of the smooth Hine, enjoying the warm glow that quickly followed, and then flopped down into a wing-backed Charles Eames chair opposite Serena.

      ‘Well, come on. How is it you’ve arrived on my doorstep looking like something the cat dragged in, carting your babies about in cardboard boxes?’

      After only her third swig of brandy, Serena had almost emptied the glass. She placed it on the coffee table, leant back and began to speak. She told Rachel the whole story, leaving nothing out at all.

      Serena explained how she had fallen in love with Royole Fergusson the first moment she’d looked into his dark green eyes, that night of the storm in Port Antonio. And she described to her friend, in exquisite detail, the one day they had spent together.