‘There’s a letter printed here from our cousin Elisabeth. She says she always knew about the concerto. She says there was never any mystery at all!’

Jelly’s newly recovered equilibrium collapsed.

Elisabeth stated that the manuscript, which had been in her father’s possession for some 50 years, had been given to the Prussian State Library by all six of Joachim’s heirs and that many friends knew this – Eugenie Schumann and her sisters included. She remarked, too, that a movement of the concerto had been played at Schumann’s birthplace in Zwickau by the violinist Adolf Busch, who was a close friend of Tovey’s and sometime mentor to Yehudi Menuhin. ‘Strange that the spirits should have to take such a roundabout way to reveal what was not concealed,’ Elisabeth wrote.

Alec peered into the dining room; the sisters both began to shout about this latest misery. ‘What is she playing at?’ Jelly expostulated. ‘I went to see her and she said nothing of the sort! And what’s all this about Adolf Busch? Wouldn’t Donald have known and told us?’

‘Jelly, get dressed,’ Alec ordered. ‘We’re going to Oxford.’

‘What? Now?’

‘Yes, now, by the next train. The quicker you get ready, the quicker we’ll be there. I’ll send a telegram to Elisabeth and tell her we’re on the way. Chop-chop, old girl.’

‘I’m coming too.’ Adila jumped to her feet.

‘No, Adi, not you. If you come, there’ll be an almighty rumpus about spirit messages and that isn’t what we need. You may have plundered the broadsheets today, my dear, but you haven’t seen the tabloids – and I promise you, you neither want to nor need to.’

Adila was so shocked at this rejection that, for once, she was lost for words.

*

Today Jelly could take little pleasure in the sights and sounds of Oxford – the bicycles purring over the cobbles, the waterbirds chattering on the riverbank. She dreaded confronting her cousin; Adila would have done it much better. ‘It’ll be fine,’ Alec promised, shepherding her towards the Banbury Road – for Jelly was so disconnected from reality through exhaustion that, left alone, she would probably have wandered halfway to Newbury.

Elisabeth’s face showed that Jelly was not alone in feeling insecure; the Joachim glare was unmistakable. The house felt too dark on a day that was bright; an autumnal chill was beginning to intrude. Jelly conceded that her cousin might feel as uncomfortable as she did herself, which made her task a fraction easier.

‘Lisa, I saw your letter in The Listener and I need to know why you wrote it.’ Jelly challenged her, after ritual acceptance of tea.

‘I’m sick of all this talk about spirit messages.’ Elisabeth gave a shrug. ‘It has to stop. It’s ludicrous.’

Alec caught Jelly’s eye across the sofa, silently warning her to be sensible.