‘Oh!’ She stopped at the door. Having yanked her coat and hat off, her hair was a mess and she wore her old grey work dress. Her impish face was pink from the cold, eyes full of urgent things to tell them. All in all, she gave off an infectious life and energy.

Margaret realized, later, that she saw it happen in those seconds. Herr Schmale looked up from pouring wine to take in this new apparition. He lowered the bottle and gazed with a hypnotized frankness at her sister.

‘This is my other niece, Annie,’ Aunt Hatt said. ‘Annie, this is Herr Schmale, from Hamburg in Germany.’

‘Ah – but you must call me Freddie!’ Herr Schmale got to his feet, walked round the table and bowed over Annie’s hand, clicking his heels together.

‘Er, how d’you do?’ Annie said, bemused.

‘Enchanted.’ He did not release her hand and gazed on Annie with such intensity that she turned away as if in search of help.

‘Sorry I’m late, Auntie,’ she said, extricating herself from their visitor. ‘I should really go and brush my hair . . .’

‘No, no!’ Herr Schmale objected. ‘Please. Everysing is quvite perfect!’

Margaret watched him as he returned to the table, his enchantment plain to see. This is strange, she thought. Didn’t Uncle say he was engaged to be married? Surely there had been mention of a fiancée?

She decided that she would never in her life be able to understand men and perhaps she would not take the trouble. But just to contradict this, the thought of Philip Tallis strayed once more into her mind before she banished it again.

‘Eb,’ Harriet said, much later, as they went tipsily to bed after more wine, topped off with port, than they ever had on any normal weekday. ‘That Herr Schmale is a nice man – but he’s got you all wrong, hasn’t he?’

Eb sat forward and gave a little belch, before frowning up at her. ‘What – with all that talk about Arts and Crafts?’

‘Yes.’ Harriet peeled off her dressing gown to reveal her curvaceous figure swathed in a large white nightdress. ‘All those . . . you know, William Morris and the Guilds and all of them arty lot. He thinks you’re one of them.’

Her husband lay back, chuckling. ‘I didn’t let on though, did I? Good job or he’d be off next door to see that Tallis feller. There’s no need for that – I can do what he wants easy enough.’ He gave a huge yawn, lumping about to get comfortable. ‘Come to think of it – why did Margaret have to mention Tallis? I dain’t know she knew anything about any of this.’

‘I don’t know,’ Hatt said, frowning. ‘You don’t think . . . ? She went a bit pink in the face when she spoke of him . . .’

‘Could’ve been the wine,’ Eb said.