We stood in a grey, whitewashed hall, the windows were divided by wooden slats into little rectangles; like bars, I thought. A few portraits of Swedish monarchs hung on the wall. Someone came down the stairs. Her.

‘Good afternoon,’ we said.

‘Good afternoon,’ she said, quietly.

‘We’re here on behalf of Frau Collin in Zurich, and would like to talk to you about her daughter.’

‘Do you have . . . a letter?’ she asked suspiciously.

‘Yes we do.’

‘All right.’

She went on ahead and led us into a large room, a kind of hall, where the girls probably had their meals. There were long tables and an awful lot of chairs. In one corner stood a smaller table, where we sat down. We told her our names. She looked at us questioningly and coldly.

‘Frau Collin asked us to keep an eye on her child – she is unfortunately not able to come to Sweden herself this summer, but would like someone to visit her from time to time.’

‘I see to the child,’ said Frau Adriani. ‘Are you . . . acquainted with Frau Collin?’

‘It would probably be best if we could speak directly with the little girl; her mother wants us to give her her regards, and there is a message to deliver.’

‘What sort of message?’

‘It concerns the little girl – of course I’ll deliver it in your presence. May we speak to her?’

Frau Adriani stood up, shouted something in Swedish through the door, and came back.

‘I find your behaviour more than a little strange, I must say. I find you conspiring with the child, interfering in my educational practices . . . What are you up to? Who are you anyway?’

‘We have told you our names. By the way . . .’

‘Frau Adriani,’ said the Princess, ‘no one wants to check up on you, or interfere with your work. You must take a lot of trouble over the children – I can tell. But we want to keep her mother informed of anything . . .’

‘I can do that,’ said Frau Adriani.

‘Of course. We want to be able to tell her that we have seen her daughter happy and well . . . and how she’s getting on . . . ah, here she is.’

Shyly the child approached the table at which we were sitting; she walked a little uncertainly, and stopped some way short of us. We looked at her; she looked at us.

‘Well, Ada,’ said the Princess, ‘how are you?’

We heard Adriani’s voice urge, ‘Say hello now!’ The child cringed, and stammered something like hello.

‘How are you getting on?’ Frau Adriani didn’t take her eye off the child. She spoke as though from behind a wall.

‘Fine . . . Thank you . . .’

‘Your mother sends you her love,’ said the Princess. ‘She sends her love and then she asks you in this letter,’ the Princess rummaged in her handbag, ‘if Will’s grave is being looked after? That must be your little brother?’