As we came back along the hall I appeared to notice the nameplate for the first time. “Good heavens. That wouldn’t be Maisie McPhee, would it?” I asked.

“Yes. Did you know her?”

“If it’s the same one, she used to work for us years ago, when I was a small child,” I said.

“I don’t believe it could be the same person,” the matron said.

“I’d recognize her right away,” I said, “and perhaps she’d still remember me. She was very kind. Very nice.”

I had my hand on the doorknob, attempting to open the door.

“I don’t think she’d know you, my lady,” the matron said, hastily removing my hand from the door. “She doesn’t know anybody any longer.”

The noise outside her door had roused Maisie McPhee. She sat up in bed and stared anxiously. I was surprised to see a young-looking, unlined face, light blue eyes and hair that had once been red, but was now faded and streaked with white.

“It’s all right, dear,” Matron called through the closed door. “You’re quite safe here. Go back to sleep.”

“But she’s so young to be here,” I said. “What a shame.”

Matron nodded. “Advanced syphilis, I’m afraid,” she said in a low whisper. “Nothing can be done.” She took my arm and led us away.

Chapter 31

Chapter 31

The road home from Braemar
August 21

I heaved a big sigh of relief as we drove out of those gates and turned onto the road again. Granddad beside me gave a similar sigh. “Blimey, ducks, what I do for you. I thought I’d had me chips then. I thought they were going to drag me away and lock me up on the spot. Talk about giving you the willies. That place certainly did.”

“Yes, it did, didn’t it? Although it was all very nice and clean and bright. You were brilliant, by the way. Absolutely perfect. Now I can see where Mummy got her acting ability from.”

“Go on.” He almost blushed. “I just had to stand there and look stupid.”

“But you ran away and gave us a chance to see more of the building. We’d probably never have gone upstairs if you hadn’t done that. And I’d never have seen Maisie McPhee.”

“Who’s she when she’s at home, anyway?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “But Veronica Padgett goes to visit her regularly, and she doesn’t strike me as the philanthropic type who would visit an old servant.”

“What makes you think she’s an old servant? I thought they were all posh types in there.”

“Maisie McPhee is the sort of name servants around here would have,” I said. “But why would they pay to put an old servant in a place like Castle Craig?”