Jelly watched him, admiring. What it was to have a brother-in-law who was accustomed to functioning in diplomatic circles.

‘Think of it as a gesture towards keeping a diffuse family flame alight,’ Alec added. ‘The problem actually is that the headline used the word “lost”. The concerto was not lost, but embargoed. But the word “lost” takes up less space on a page when an editor is composing a headline and in general it makes a greater impact on the reader’s mind. The shadings of truth tend to be of secondary concern in that context. Had this occurred to you?’

‘Oh,’ said Elisabeth. ‘No. I didn’t think of that.’

‘You see how easily a misunderstanding can arise? We can’t change what’s already happened, but I believe in sorting these matters out sooner rather than later – or else they keep festering. If we can fix the problem immediately, that’s the end of it.’

Elisabeth glanced at her father’s portrait. Joachim had been one to fester, and when he finally let rip, the repercussions were often profound.

‘Don’t do as he would have. Lisa, please assist us by writing a clarifying letter and entrusting it to us today? We’ll then consider how best to use it. What do you think?’

‘If you really believe it will help… ’

‘And you? Do you believe it will help?’

‘Perhaps. Why… yes. Yes, I believe that it may.’

‘Where do you keep your letter paper, please?’ Alec stood and waited for Elisabeth’s directions. It was only when he had set a blank page in front of her and she, pen poised, was ready to start, that Jelly let herself smile at how skilfully Alec had led her cousin into doing his bidding while convincing her she was exercising her own free will.

The letter was finished; Elisabeth completed it with a signature and a flourish. The glare fixed Jelly between the eyebrows. ‘Here. Publish it if you want to. I hope it helps.’

Jelly read it quickly. Elisabeth, addressing the letter to Jelly herself, wrote of her intention to clear up what she had felt was a misrepresentation in The Listener; and saying that the details of the concerto’s fate had slipped her mind until she saw her brother in 1934. ‘I never for a moment intended to throw any doubt on anything that you had said about the facts which led to the publication of the Schumann concerto. I know you too well to doubt your absolute truthfulness,’ she had written.

Waiting for the train home, Alec gave Jelly a piece of paper of her own. ‘I think you should write a covering letter.’

‘What? Now?’

‘There’s method to the madness. You’ll see.’