In the shady porch she found an old-fashioned metal bell-pull at the side of the door, which gave off a tinkling sound inside.

She heard no footsteps and jumped when the door suddenly opened. A young man stood there, dressed in very tight jeans with faded knees, a T-shirt and trainers. He had collar-length mousy hair and a white acne’d complexion. There was something in his manner Anna didn’t take to.

‘Yes. Hello?’ There was no curiosity in his manner but he seemed tense, his brow furrowed, apparently unable to keep still.

‘I’m Anna Craven.’ Nervously she pushed her hand back through her hair wondering if this was Olivia’s son, forgetting he didn’t match Kate’s description at all.

‘You want Olivia, I suppose,’ he said, apparently resentful.

‘She said I could call. Is she here?’

‘Yeah. She’s teaching at the moment. Come through.’

As she was turning to close the door she heard footsteps slapping madly down the wide staircase and another voice called, ‘It’s OK – leave it – thanks.’ Another young man with tight curls, round gold glasses and a file under his arm disappeared outside in flip-flops. The door slammed.

Anna scuttled after the other one and found him standing on the threshold of a huge room. Her first impressions were the glowing red and yellow light from the windows, the honey-coloured parquet floor and a huge grand piano which dominated the middle of the room.

At one end, in the bay window, was a round table. Two women sat behind it, one plump with permed grey hair and a sleeveless, square-necked frock. The other, much smaller and dark, was dressed in something vivid and orange.

‘Someone for you, Olivia.’

Anna stood in front of them, bewildered.

It was only when the smaller of the two women looked over at her that she knew it was Olivia. Across the room her face looked surprisingly young and thin, the eyes dark, seemingly bottomless.

‘Thank you, Sean.’ Her voice was deeper than Anna expected, with a smooth beauty like a nun’s. ‘Would you be a love and put the kettle on?’ He gave a nod and disappeared through a door at the other side of the room.

As Olivia walked towards her, Anna saw that the orange clothing was a sari. She came gliding across, wrapped in the graceful folds of silk, feet bare and silent on the coloured rugs which dotted the floor. Anna’s mind struggled to make sense of what she was seeing. She felt a second of panic. How should she react?

Olivia stopped a couple of feet away and searched Anna’s face with her eyes. Then she smiled, a transformation, showing small, creamy teeth and an immense vivacity which shone from her eyes. She put her hands to her own face, resting her fingers lightly against her cheeks, taking in the sight of her visitor with a childlike kind of wonder.

‘Anna, you’re the image of your father. What beautiful hair.’

Anna smiled shyly. In seconds any anger and hostility dissolved. She was enchanted. ‘Hello,’ she said foolishly. She found it hard to meet Olivia’s eyes, her gaze was so intense.