Justine pulled out two letters from the envelope. The first one was on lined notepaper and written in a childish scrawl. She read it then placed it to one side and unfolded the second letter.

‘My God, how could she do this?’

Jane looked at her questioningly.

‘It’s from my mother. Listen to this: “Dear darling Justine, I am sorry for the subterfuge, but for a while I have felt this is not the atmosphere for Clara to be living in. I am constantly on edge and worried for her, and also for you. I have therefore decided to take my granddaughter home to live with me in my house. This is for her benefit and I will be talking to her headmistress about these arrangements.”’

Justine glanced across at Jane with an empty look on her face, and then back down at the letter.

‘ “I have contacted dear George and he will hopefully be with you shortly.” ’

The telephone rang and Justine stood up and crossed to the drawing-room door, yanking it open. She picked up the phone, screamed ‘Fuck off!’ then slammed the receiver down. When she walked back into the room, her whole demeanor had changed. Her eyes were wild and she was grimacing as if she had eaten something sour.

‘I knew that would be my mother. That bloody two-faced, interfering woman . . . The stupid cow has been wanting to take my daughter for years and now she thinks she has the right to move her out of my home – my daughter’s home. Well, I won’t let her get away with it.’

Jane eased herself forward in the seat. ‘You know, Justine, perhaps it might be for the best at the moment. You are going to be re-questioned this afternoon and maybe your mother is just trying to keep Clara away from anything upsetting.’

‘My mother is a complete bitch. She was always more glamorous, better educated and more sophisticated than me. She’s been competing with me my entire life and now she has taken away the only thing that makes my life worth living.’

Jane watched as Justine went over to the mantelpiece and began patting along it with her hand again, knocking over an ormolu clock and a china figurine.

She turned to Jane. ‘Where is my knife? Where is my knife?’

Jane didn’t dare get up. She had slid the dagger down the side of the chair cushion and now watched as Justine became more and more uncontrolled. She was moving in rapid, jerky steps, backwards and forward. Jane knew she had to calm her but she didn’t want to give Justine the opportunity to find the knife.

Jane reached for her coffee mug. ‘Justine, you are one of the most beautiful women I have met in my life. When you came into my office, I said to myself you reminded me of Faye Dunaway.’

Justine seemed to heave for breath.