“She was wearing an ankle-length kaftan embroidered in red silk roses and, low across her forehead, a broad bandeau of intricately patterned jet and turquoise beads. Her sleek black hair was waterfall straight and waist-length, her skin golden. ‘Nepal and Kathmandu were heaven, Primmie, but it’s good to be home,’ she said, swirling ice cubes round in a glass of gin and tonic. ‘Francis has taken up the sitar and I’ve learned a few words of Hindi. Neither ability is going to be of much use to ...us, but it’s been fun. Francis was suspected of being a CIA agent in Afghanistan and nearly converted to Buddhism in Tibet.’ Instead of collapsing into giggles, Primmie smiled. Coming from Primmie it was a rather lacklustre response. Geraldine put her glass down and pushed herself a little further upright against the cushions. ‘Is anything wrong, Primmie?’ she asked, ‘or have I just been away too long? When I phoned Kiki from the airport she only wanted to speak to Francis, and when I phoned Artemis she sounded as if she’d been crying, though when I asked she said she had a cold and that you’d fill me in on what’s been happening.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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