‘Mummy told me you always had lovely clothes.’

‘I had beautiful things. The best, if possible. My father always saw to that. Proper, tailor-made things . . .’

Olivia still had about her the aura of a past age, Anna thought, as she started helping her to dress. Kate had adapted to the years, had worn large squarish glasses, kept her hair conveniently short, shopped at Marks and Spencer, wore comfy slacks, as she called them, when she was not at work.

But she couldn’t imagine Olivia in slacks. There was still a formality about her approach to clothes, the way dressing was still an activity carried out at certain points in the day rather than something incidental. And there was the dark mahogany dressing table with matching silver-backed mirror, hairbrush, clothes brush, items all formally laid out, and a passive acceptance of Anna’s help which spoke of maids. Her limbs seemed to be heavy and she was slow and lethargic. Together they put on the cotton skirt in which Anna had seen her play the piano, and a white blouse. Anna fastened the buttons, her actions accepted without protest. She brushed Olivia’s hair, feeling its thick softness. She saw herself in the mirror behind Olivia, her eyes serious, a sad, almost reverent expression on her face.

‘Will you plait it for me?’ Olivia asked. ‘Then I can just coil it up at the back.’ And as Anna did so, she added, ‘Your hair is such a lovely colour. You should grow it long.’

Once they had walked slowly downstairs together, Anna went to help Jake prepare food – pasta and salad – from what was available in the house. Olivia ate a little with them. She remained subdued, apparently detached from what had happened, and content to sit and watch television. They sat with plates on their knees, relieved at having the telly, at not having to talk. Every so often, though, Olivia roused herself and looked round restlessly, saying, ‘I wish Krishna would come back.’

By the time it got to nine o’clock, Anna and Jake were giving each other uneasy glances. They knew Krish had few friends, had not been allowed them. ‘Perhaps he’s gone to see Theo?’ she suggested. ‘They get on pretty well, don’t they?’

Olivia looked doubtful. ‘We could telephone,’ she suggested.

‘Let’s give him a bit more time,’ Jake said. ‘After all, it’s not exactly late yet.’

They sat through the news, each of them taking little of it in.

The phone rang at ten-thirty. Jake leapt up and went to the hall. Anna heard his voice, solemn, saying mostly, ‘Yes . . . yes . . .’ He asked something, said yes again, then rang off.

He appeared at the door, his expression unreadable. ‘Anna, can I have a word?’ Olivia watched impassively as Anna left the room.

Jake pulled her urgently along the dark hall. ‘That was Selly Oak Hospital,’ he whispered. ‘They’ve got Krish.’

‘I must go to him.’

Anna expected Olivia to be hysterical, to disintegrate. Instead, she and Jake watched her transform herself. She gathered herself, seemed to gain stature, dignified and unbending as a bird of prey.