‘Well, you provide some of the conversation then, since you don’t like mine.’ He leaned back pretending to be genial and conversational. ‘We could talk about – pets, let’s say. The care of birds, for instance. Budgerigars in particular.’

I was bewildered. Olivia’s beloved birds had become ill and died months ago. She’d cried over them for ages afterwards. Why was he being so cruel now, baiting her as if suggesting she hadn’t looked after them properly?

‘Livy loved those birds,’ I said indignantly. ‘She did everything she could for them.’

‘Oh yes,’ Alec agreed smoothly. ‘Absolutely everything.’

Olivia swallowed, spots of red burning in her cheeks. ‘I was thinking,’ she said in a high, fluttery voice. ‘It’s funny being here with different servants. No Dawson or Radcliffe.’

‘Your mother’s missing them I think,’ Alec said. He was unsmiling, spoke very deliberately, watching his wife’s face. ‘Bit of female company round the house. Even if they are common little tarts.’ He spat the words out.

‘Alec.’ There was an appalled, begging note in Elizabeth’s voice and her eyes were full of tears.

‘They know how to please, though.’ His tone was casual now, almost chatty. ‘Never had cause for complaint, have we, darling? Worth bearing that in mind, Katie. Always be eager to please. Gets you places.’

Elizabeth stood up and left the room, walking through the stares of the other diners. Olivia was sitting rigid in her seat. I felt sick.

‘Look.’ Alec was suddenly sheepish. ‘Sorry about that, Katie. Olivia? You’re not cross, are you? You know your mother never is much good at taking a joke!’ He tried to laugh it off. ‘Never mind us, Kate, don’t take any notice. Have a nice pudding, eh? I’ll go and get her.’

Olivia stared stonily at her plate as Elizabeth followed her husband back to the table. Her expression was completely collected as if nothing had happened. We sat through the rest of the meal, Alec back to his ebullient, entertaining self. I felt very edgy still and could not help glancing at Elizabeth Kemp. But if it had not been for Livy’s mutinous silence I might have begun to think I’d dreamt it all. Alec was affable, able to bring out jokes. And Elizabeth’s face wore its mask of gentle, affectionate amusement.

‘Livy?’

We were preparing for bed after the meal.

‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

‘But what did . . .?’

‘I said I don’t want to talk about it.’

‘Is it – are they often like that?’

Olivia stood with her back to me, pulling her dress on to a coat-hanger. After a moment she turned, suddenly giving me a dazzling smile which also managed to convey bafflement. ‘Whatever do you mean?’

* * *

OLIVIA

Did they really never know I heard them? Of course they assumed my deafness, my innocence. And when Daddy was aroused he bellowed, locked in his own needs and urges. I listened to their ritual through the smooth wood of the door, through keyholes, cracks between hinges. My room was safely far away, they thought, at the opposite end of the house. But I was there: nights when the maids had left or were up in bed and occasional afternoons when they assumed I was well occupied elsewhere.