Samantha, tall and slender and wearing a dress that Hélène recognised well – it had been a cast-off from the Buckingham wardrobes, dutifully re-stitched – was standing with her back to the door, looking down into a simple wooden crib. Baby Sybil must have been awake, for Hélène could hear her cooing with delight when Samantha’s finger darted in to tickle her beneath the chin. For an age, Hélène hung in the doorway, just listening to those sounds. Soon, Samantha leaned in to take hold of the baby.

‘May I?’ asked Hélène, and the voice of Samantha’s father came echoing down the hall: ‘Tell her she doesn’t need to ask!’

Samantha stepped aside. Sybil was fourteen months old already – and, goodness, how she’d grown! Hélène felt her heart break a little at that. How long had it been since she’d seen her? A whole month? But that was an aeon to a baby. The hair that had once been wisps on top of her head had turned into black waves, and when she saw Hélène she hoisted herself onto her feet at the bars of her crib. Her cheeks still had the roundedness of the baby she’d been, and yet her face was changing. She looked half a little girl, half a babe in arms.

‘Hello, little one,’ said Hélène, lifting her. ‘Remember me?’

She did. Or perhaps it was the rag doll with which she was presented, making her eyes light up.

‘How’s she been?’

‘Lord, she’s kept me up nights and nights. Sleeps in the day and wants to get up and dance all night long. It’s lucky I’m not cleaning down at the cinema any more. They let me go. Seems I clean too good. We were finishing so early they decided to let one of us go!’ Samantha’s laughter was the best thing about her. They didn’t laugh like this in the Buckingham. There they just opened their lips and tittered, or raised a glass in an appreciative smile. ‘Hélène?’

Hélène had been lost, cradling Sybil. ‘She’s beautiful . . . as ever.’

‘She has her father’s eyes,’ said Samantha.

She did. They were eyes of the darkest brown, and yet they still seemed bright and alive.

‘I was trying to settle her when you walked in. Her grandpa out there decided he’d entertain her with the bloomin’ trumpet, and right before bedtime too. She loves it of course. Just like her father!’