‘Okay,’ said Frankie, going into her and Craig’s bedroom and closing the door. This sounded intriguing. She’d had one man ringing up before, very keen for Frankie to paint nude pictures of him (‘Tasteful, like!’ he’d said apparently, as if that made all the difference), and another woman who’d wanted Frankie to paint her lurcher, which turned out to be dead, and stuffed, with the creepiest I’m-watching-you glass eyes. ‘I’m bracing myself. Fire away.’

‘Well,’ said Constance, ‘like I said, to be taken with a pinch of salt. And probably ignored. But anyway I feel obliged to pass it on, because the woman did sound quite sincere. Her name is – wait a moment – Paula Brent, and she said to tell you she was Harry Mortimer’s daughter. And that she was your . . .’ Constance gave a short bark of a laugh. ‘Well, actually, darling, she was quite insistent that she was your sister, too.’

‘Oh my God,’ said Frankie, feeling shivers travelling up and down the length of her body. Harry Mortimer’s daughter. Your sister.

‘I know – I mean, rest assured, I did say to her: Frankie does not have a sister, but—’

‘No, wait, Constance; the thing is, I do,’ said Frankie, gathering herself and blinking several times. ‘Apparently I do.’

‘You do?’ For once, her garrulous agent sounded lost for words. ‘Goodness me. So when you say “Apparently”, you mean . . . ?’

‘I’ve only recently found out. Quite a surprise,’ Frankie said wryly. ‘But she phoned – oh, I’m so pleased to hear that. Did she leave a number or anything?’

‘Yes, she did, I wrote it down. Gosh, I’m glad I didn’t just throw this away now,’ Constance exclaimed. ‘I nearly did, to be honest, because I thought it was one of those silly prank things . . . Where did I put it? Ah yes. Have you got a pen?’

‘Yes,’ said Frankie, grabbing an eyeliner from her dressing table and an old envelope that she’d been using as a bookmark. ‘I’m ready.’

She could feel herself filling with delighted anticipation as she took down the number. With all the palaver around the unexpected appearance of Julia lately, Frankie had been feeling somewhat pessimistic about her dad and the disastrous episode up in York. She’d written the whole thing off, pretty much, as a mistake, a turn she shouldn’t have taken, and it had faded to the back of her mind. And yet here was a woman called Paula – her actual half-sister – who had somehow tracked her down to Constance, and wanted to get in touch. Did that mean that Harry, her dad, felt the same way? Was this an olive branch from the Mortimers, the start of something new?