‘I just thought. But shall we phone? Yes?’

‘Let’s first finish our swim,’ said the Princess. ‘And when we get back to Gripsholm, I’ll tell you what we’ll do. Now – hupp!’ We swam.

‘Listen,’ I puffed, ‘she won’t do it, Frau Collin. She’s probably had second thoughts about it – I got the impression she doesn’t really want the little thing at home with her – maybe she has one of those wonderfully regulated lives . . .’ The Princess pinched me in the leg. ‘Or she doesn’t trust us, and thinks we’ll kidnap her daughter. But she trusted Frau Adriani. Well, you’ll see! Women, really! But I’ll tell you this, if she hasn’t written today, I’ll never do anything for other people’s children again. Not for other people’s! Not for yours! Not for mine! God!’

‘Poppa,’ said the Princess, ‘for as long as I’ve known you, you’ve been holding forth about what you’re going to do, and most of the time it turns out completely different. But men are like that. A bit deluded!’

‘I’ll . . .’

‘Yes, you will. Take the future tense away from you, and you won’t have much left.’

‘Woman!’

‘Same to you!’

Harrgh – and the whole lake started to pitch and toss, because we were having a furious sea-battle. We swam back to shore.

On the way back to the castle Lydia said, ‘My boss hasn’t written at all . . . I wonder if they’ve sold him to a bordello in Abbazia?’

‘Do you think there’s any demand . . .’

‘Cheri, have you seen the dachshund anywhere?’

‘Your dachshund bag?’

‘I thought he was under my bed. He barks at night.’ We went inside.

The Princess whistled like a decoy bird. What was it?

The letter had arrived – a fat letter. She tore open the envelope, and I took it away from her. The pages fluttered to the ground. We picked them up and shouted for joy. There was everything we needed.

‘That’s marvellous! And now! What now?’

‘The best thing would be,’ said the Princess, ‘to go straight there and get the girl out of those poisonous clutches. What are we waiting for?’

‘Let’s have lunch first, and then straight afterwards . . . A row is always good for the digestion.’

We were just eating our dessert of stewed cranberries when we heard a din outside the door that indicated something unusual was afoot. We dropped our spoons and listened. Well?

The lady of the castle came in; she looked like a special late edition.

‘There is a child outside,’ she said, and looked at us with a slight trace of suspicion, ‘a little girl – she doesn’t know your names, but she says she wants to go to the lady and gentleman who gave her a doll, and she cries all the time and is so red in her face . . . Do you know the child?’