Eclipse. Lynne Pemberton

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      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.