For a good and long moment I think he had his doubts that I was the right girl. I’d grown skinny and tough in space, and changed my hair, and that was before we got to the glowy. That would change the look of anyone.

More than that, though. I knew there was a hardness in my eyes as if someone had jammed steel into them.

Father stepped over and kissed me on the cheek, took my hand in his, tracing my fingers with his own. ‘Everything’s going to be better now, Fura. Your ordeal’s over. It’s all behind you. And you’re more precious to me now than you’ve ever been.’

‘I’m so glad to be back,’ I said. ‘It was terrible, what happened out there. I mean, it was terrible the things that happened to us. I’m never going back. I never want to see space again, or a ship, or anything that reminds me of that dreadful time.’

This statement drew a cough from one of the representatives. ‘Perhaps,’ he said, in a high quavering voice, ‘now might not be an inopportune moment to mention the veil of discretion . . .’

‘This whole affair,’ the other representative said, in a deeper, more authoritative tone, ‘has been a terrible strain on the good name of your father. It was no fault of yours, Arafura. You were misled. You were not responsible for your own actions.’

‘I surely wasn’t,’ I agreed.

‘But now that’s what’s happened . . . has happened,’ said the first, still in that high voice, ‘now that’s eventuated, so to speak . . . there doesn’t need to be any further blemish on the name . . . the good name . . .’

‘What my colleague means,’ the second said, ‘is that, through the good offices of our friends in journalistic and reporting circles . . . a certain benign obscurity may now be permitted to cloud these recent unpleasantnesses. There need be no public knowledge of your involvement with Captain Rackamore . . . still less of the regrettable incident that befell his ship.’

‘And no mention at all,’ the first put in, ‘of . . . any other individuals, who may have profited from that incident. You and your sister developed a rare . . .’ He paused, wringing his hands while he searched for the right word. ‘Malady, you see.’

‘A malady,’ I repeated.

‘An illness, a serious ailment,’ the second one said. ‘Which required a long interval of seclusion. Bed rest, regular visits from the physician, complete isolation. It was a protracted illness, a congenital weakening of the heart, and it was a great sadness that your sister eventually succumbed.’

‘Oh,’ I said quietly, nodding, as if I was impressed by this masterful piece of lie-mongering, and quite ready to swallow it as the truth.