She’s surprised at how quickly she and Cara have bonded. Fliss guesses that it’s because of their shared experience of grief: that each recognizes in the other the extent of suffering and respects it. But it’s more than that. She senses in Cara the inability to confide easily, the in-built barrier that prevents the luxury of speaking of things close to the heart. Whether this is an imposed barrier or one that is natural to her, Fliss can’t quite decide, but this act of connecting lowered Fliss’s own defences. It’s clear that Cara has grown very fond of Sam and, after lunch, whilst Hal and Sam cleared up, Fliss found herself talking about Mole, about her grief and horror at his death. They sat together on a bench in the courtyard, Honey leaning against their legs, and it was as if the presence of the dog were a conduit through which their thoughts could be shared. As they stroked Honey, it became easier to talk about loss and grief and loneliness. For the first time in many years Fliss talked about her beloved older brother, Jamie, and how he died out in Kenya with their parents; how she tried to be a little mother to small Mole and Susanna whilst feeling quite incapable of the responsibility, and her relief when they arrived home, to The Keep and to their grandmother. She relived the horror of Mole being utterly silent during the weeks following the massacre.

‘It would be called PTSD now,’ she said to Cara. ‘But back then nobody knew about that and we were all so worried. I was terrified that Mole would never speak again.’

Remembering that awful time, she bent to smooth Honey’s head, feeling the fear fresh again in her heart, tears filling her eyes.

‘What happened?’ asked Cara gently, after a moment. ‘Was it gradual or was it some kind of shock that restored Mole’s voice?’

Fliss stared across the courtyard, blinking away tears, reliving the scene in her mind. ‘Fox had gone to Staverton Station to pick up Hal and Kit and Aunt Prue from the train,’ she said. ‘Hal was the same age as Jamie, and they were very alike. Mole was asleep in the hall when they drove into the courtyard. I shouted out something like, “They’re here” and Mole woke up. Hal got out of the car first, and stood looking up at the house, and then Prue started to get out and Mole suddenly screamed out: “It’s Mummy. It’s Mummy and Jamie!” He ran out and flung his arms round Hal … and then he realized.’ Even sixty years on Fliss can remember her guilt. ‘I’d told him they were coming, you see, but when he woke I think he forgot just for a moment. Perhaps he thought it had all been a dreadful dream and nobody had died. It was terrible. Awful. But his voice had come back.’