They got out and walked down a perfectly maintained footpath to the main entrance. Ralf was intimidated. His red Adidas hoodie suited him and was nice and warm, but in this setting, it was just as out of place as his car. He glanced at his sneakers as they walked. Colorful, but thankfully clean. Next to him, Sara was frantically tying her unruly hair into a tight bun, making him suspect that she wasn’t entirely confident of being taken seriously either.

They passed under a portico and entered the building. Ralf did his utmost not to be distracted by the lavish décor. The hall was enormous, with chandeliers on which every lamp was lit. Gleaming stone floors, Persian carpets. In one corner stood a grand piano.

Ralf and Sara received a friendly welcome from an elderly man behind the reception desk. If he thought they didn’t belong here, he certainly didn’t show it. His arms and legs were short, Ralf noticed, and his hips were broad. It had probably taken him many decades to grow that impressive belly. Ralf had never met anybody before who physically resembled a spinning top. A huge, live spinning top.

“We’re looking for Werner and Helen Möhring,” said Ralf.

The man raised his hand. “I’m afraid that—”

Sara stepped forward. “They’re my parents. It’s an emergency.”

He looked at her, his head slightly cocked. “I see it now. You’re the spitting image of your mother. Your parents have just left.”

“Do you know where they were going?”

“I’m afraid not.”

Sara’s phone began to buzz inside her bag. She unzipped it and retrieved the device. “My dad,” she said breathlessly. “A photo.”

Ralf looked over her shoulder at the screen. Helen was standing with her thumbs up, smiling at the camera. She had a scarf wrapped around her head. It was obviously very windy.

Your mother and I are ready to take on the Seven Sisters!

“Seven Sisters?”

Ralf took the phone from Sara’s hand and showed it to the man. “Do you know where this is?”

He took a pair of reading glasses from his breast pocket and placed them carefully on his nose. “Not precisely, but you can see Beachy Head quite clearly in the background.”

“Does that have anything to do with ‘Seven Sisters’?” he asked.

6

6

“What are we doing here?” asked Helen.

They were standing on a footpath up the coast from a place called Eastbourne, which looked chic and expensive. White Victorian houses, golf clubs, and a marina.