‘Mummy’s going to take me out next weekend,’ said Jennifer. ‘Daddy’s got some important people coming down this weekend so she couldn’t come today.’

‘There goes Shaista,’ said Julia, ‘all togged up for London. Oo-ee! Just look at the heels on her shoes. I bet old Johnson doesn’t like those shoes.’

A liveried chauffeur was opening the door of a large Cadillac. Shaista climbed in and was driven away.

‘You can come out with me next weekend, if you like,’ said Jennifer. ‘I told Mummy I’d got a friend I wanted to bring.’

‘I’d love to,’ said Julia. ‘Look at Vansittart doing her stuff.’

‘Terribly gracious, isn’t she?’ said Jennifer.

‘I don’t know why,’ said Julia, ‘but somehow it makes me want to laugh. It’s a sort of copy of Miss Bulstrode, isn’t it? Quite a good copy, but it’s rather like Joyce Grenfell or someone doing an imitation.’

‘There’s Pam’s mother,’ said Jennifer. ‘She’s brought the little boys. How they can all get into that tiny Morris Minor I don’t know.’

‘They’re going to have a picnic,’ said Julia. ‘Look at all the baskets.’

‘What are you going to do this afternoon?’ asked Jennifer. ‘I don’t think I need write to Mummy this week, do you, if I’m going to see her next week?’

‘You are slack about writing letters, Jennifer.’

‘I never can think of anything to say,’ said Jennifer.

‘I can,’ said Julia, ‘I can think of lots to say.’ She added mournfully, ‘But there isn’t really anyone much to write to at present.’

‘What about your mother?’

‘I told you she’s gone to Anatolia in a bus. You can’t write letters to people who go to Anatolia in buses. At least you can’t write to them all the time.’

‘Where do you write to when you do write?’

‘Oh, consulates here and there. She left me a list. Stamboul is the first and then Ankara and then some funny name.’ She added, ‘I wonder why Bully wanted to get in touch with Mummy so badly? She seemed quite upset when I said where she’d gone.’

‘It can’t be about you,’ said Jennifer. ‘You haven’t done anything awful, have you?’

‘Not that I know of,’ said Julia. ‘Perhaps she wanted to tell her about Springer.’

‘Why should she?’ said Jennifer. ‘I should think she’d be jolly glad that there’s at least one mother who doesn’t know about Springer.’

‘You mean mothers might think that their daughters were going to get murdered too?’

‘I don’t think my mother’s quite as bad as that,’ said Jennifer. ‘But she did get in quite a flap about it.’

‘If you ask me,’ said Julia, in a meditative manner, ‘I think there’s a lot that they haven’t told us about Springer.’

‘What sort of things?’

‘Well, funny things seem to be happening. Like your new tennis racquet.’

‘Oh, I meant to tell you,’ said Jennifer, ‘I wrote and thanked Aunt Gina and this morning I got a letter from her saying she was very glad I’d got a new racquet but that she never sent it to me.’