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Belinda never had a chance to meet my godfather. I was going to take her to see him just at the time he fell ill. But I’ve told her so much about Colonel Hugh that she feels she knew him, and of course she wanted to join me at the thanksgiving service. And naturally I couldn’t attend the service without paying my respects to the Colonel’s family afterwards … Belinda, this is Mr Godfrey Lumsden – I think I’ve got that right, sir?’
    â€˜Quite right, m’boy.’ Godfrey Lumsden, having already appraised the girl’s figure, heaved himself to his feet and took her hand, holding it rather longer than was strictly necessary. ‘Delighted, Miss -er-.’
    Belinda blushed. ‘Please don’t get up, Mr Lumsden,’ she said. She sat down quickly, rather clumsily, partly to encourage him to resume his seat, and partly because she was suffering from the onset of particularly horrendous stomach cramps. She longed to disappear in search of the ladies’room, but Hugh hadn’t given her an opportunity.
    Her fiancé sat on the arm of her chair, his back half-turned to her, his hands spread confidently on his short muscular thighs. He had comparatively large hands, well-shaped and well-kept, with a gold signet ring on his right little finger. His wrists sprouted black hairs, some of which curled back against his white shirt cuffs, some of which advanced along the outer edges of his hands and reappeared on the backs of his fingers. The hands were conspicuous against the dark grey flannel of his suit, and Belinda sat staring at them as he talked to his godfather’s cousin.
    â€˜My late father had the honour of serving under Colonel Hugh’s command in the first battalion of the regiment,’ he said. ‘That was just after the war, when they were in the Middle East. In fact my father saved the Colonel’s life on one occasion.’
    â€˜ Did he? Did he indeed? Splendid chap!’
    â€˜I’m not clear about the details – my father was always very modest about it. I believe he said they were in Palestine at the time, being bombed and sniped at by terrorists. He wanted no recognition for what he’d done, of course, but he had such respect and admiration for the Colonel that when I was born he asked him to be my godfather. Hence my name –’ Hugh Packer gave an unexpectedly delightful smile and his fiancée smiled to see it, as though her personal sun had just put in an appearance at the end of a long hard winter.
    â€˜Splendid! Very glad to meet you both.’ Godfrey Lumsden beckoned a waiter who was offering filled glasses from a tray. ‘Now, you must have some champagne.’
    Belinda tried to refuse. She suspected – correctly, Mrs Cunningham having worked on the principle that while one bottle for eight people would be mean, three would be an unnecessary extravagance – that if she and Hugh accepted drinks, someone in the family would have to go short. But Godfrey Lumsden insisted on her having a glass, and Hugh needed no persuasion.
    â€˜Let me wish you both a very happy marriage,’ said the old man. ‘I say, Helen –’ he called to his cousin, ‘I expect you know your brother’s godson? He’s just been telling me that his father was in Hugh’s regiment. Saved his life on one occasion, too. And this is his fiancée, Miss-er-’ Godfrey Lumsden’s voice wavered as he contemplated the generous swell of Belinda’s bosom.
    The rest of the Lumsden family had fallen silent, turning to look as the uninvited guests rose to their feet, Belinda guiltily, Packer easily and with an engaging smile. He put out his hand.
    â€˜How do you do, Mrs Cunningham? I don’t know whether you remember me – Hugh Packer. We last met about ten years ago, when I was spending a weekend with Colonel Hugh.’
    Helen Cunningham stood eye to eye with her brother’s godson and looked at