He was twelve years old, just home from prep school for half term. He was looking for Cara, calling her name, but she was nowhere to be found. He climbed the narrow stairs to the attics, pushed open one of the doors and then stopped, staring. At the end of the small room a huge, gilt-framed mirror was propped against the wall, taking up almost the whole space. Standing before it was four-year-old Cara. She was gazing into the mirror, talking and gesticulating eagerly to her reflection. She laughed, twirled round and pointed her toe. He watched, fascinated, yet something prevented him from going to join her. He retreated on to the landing, backing down the steps, and then he called her name again. She came running out, hurrying down the stairs to him, delighted as always to see him home.

‘Come and see, Max,’ she cried, hugging his knees, then taking his hands and pulling him up the steps. ‘I’ve got a friend, Max. Come and see.’

He followed her, touched and almost frightened by the intensity of her excitement as she gestured at her reflection. She laughed, and twirled and then suddenly leaned forward and kissed her mirror image. Then she stopped and stared in delight.

‘And look, Max,’ she said. ‘You have a friend, too.’

He knew that he must take it seriously, but that he must also try to diffuse the intensity, so he stepped forward and bowed to his reflection.

‘Good day, sir,’ he said solemnly.

Cara clapped her hands together. She stood for a moment and then bowed to her own reflection.

‘Good,’ he said. ‘But now it’s time for tea and I’m starving. Come on.’

She allowed him to lead her away, downstairs, but he still felt disturbed by the depth of his small sister’s passion.

Remembering, he realizes how lonely she must have been, the late mistake in a loveless marriage. How much was her gaiety a shield against the silence and bitterness that existed between their parents; their mother’s unpredictable behaviour? And now the wheel has come full circle and Cara is alone again.

She is watching him, puzzled by his preoccupation, and he pulls himself together.

‘Yes, we’ve been lucky,’ he agrees, ‘but there’s no reason why you shouldn’t find somewhere to live here, too.’

‘The trouble with moving around so much,’ she says, ‘is that there’s been no real chance to put down roots. The house in Fulham was the nearest we ever came to it.’

‘It’s early days,’ he says. ‘Look, I need to get Oscar out for a walk. Do you feel like a yomp over Bolberry Down?’

‘Love to,’ she answers promptly.

‘Good,’ he says. ‘Let’s get going.’

Oscar is already clattering down the wooden staircase, and Cara pushes back her chair.

‘Give me a moment,’ she says, ‘and I’ll be with you.’