“That’s in Gloucestershire, I believe,” Nanny said. “It’s a long way and you may be late gettin’ there. It be chilly now it’s nearly September. You had best have your mother’s fur to put round your shoulders. I’ve packed it, but it won’t take a moment to get it out.”

Carina did not answer.

She walked to the window and looked out on the street below. She could see the cab waiting outside the front door. The horse had its nosebag on and she guessed the cabby was already following David up the stairs.

This was the end – the end of everything she had known. The end of everything that had meant anything in her life

She could hear their footsteps now coming nearer and nearer. She could hear David in the room giving sharp instructions,

“Steady there! Mind ’ow you tips the end as we starts down the stairs.”

She did not turn round – she knew because of the tears in her eyes she would not be able to see them. She was remembering how much this house had meant to her. She could see her mother now, crossing the room, holding out her arms and she could see her coffin being carried slowly downstairs.

Then Nanny’s voice recalled her to the present,

“It’s all done now, my darlin’ and here’s your fur. Put it round your shoulders in the train. There’s terrible draughts in them trains, as I knows full well.”

Carina turned at last. Nanny saw her tears and hurried towards her.

“There, there, my baby, don’t cry! It’ll be all right. You’ve had a bad time, but it’ll all come right now. God will look after you, I knows that.”

Just for a moment Carina rested her cheek against her nurse’s wrinkled one and felt the comfort of the love and affection that had been hers for twenty-one years.

Then with a little sob she said,

“I must go. The child – the child I am looking after is downstairs.”

“You have left him downstairs?” asked Nanny, a disapproving note in her voice. “That was unkind of you. Why couldn’t you bring her in for a glass of milk and a biscuit?”

“It’s not a ‘she’, it’s a ‘he’,” Carina replied. “His name is Dipa.”

“What a strange name!” Nanny exclaimed. “It sounds outlandish to me.”

“Yes, I suppose it does,” Carina answered. “He comes from Java.”

She saw the sudden concern in the old woman’s eyes.

“Now, Miss Carina, what are you lettin’ yourself in for?” she asked. “You are not being employed by foreign people?”

Carina knew only too well Nanny’s horror of what she called ‘those darkies’, and so there was an irrepressible smile on her lips as she answered,

“Yes and no, Nanny. I am taking Dipa to his father who is Lord Lynche of Lynche Castle.”

“Lord Lynche!”