Nanny repeated the name as if it had some meaning for her and she was trying to remember what it was.

“Lord Lynche, I seem to know the name. Now where have I heard it? And they live in Gloucestershire? Strange, for I seem to remember that there was somethin’ – ”

She stopped murmuring to herself and said sharply,

“It’s an English name and his Lordship, whoever he may be, lives in an English Castle. You’ll be all right, my darlin’, I’m sure you will!”

Nanny had been going to say something very different, Carina was aware of that. But she had remembered, just in the nick of time, to bite back her words, to say nothing that might make the journey more difficult or the anticipation of what lay ahead unpleasant.

‘Oh, Nanny, Nanny,’ Carina longed to say, ‘you are as transparent as a glass of spring water!’ but, instead, she did not dare trust her voice.

She took the sables Nanny was holding on her arm and picked up her handbag.

“I must go,” she said, “otherwise we might miss the train.”

Without a backward glance she ran down the stairs, hearing Nanny following her.

In the hall David and the cabby were carrying out the last of the boxes onto the pavement before they started the arduous task of lifting them up onto the cab. Some would go behind, some on the coachman’s box and the smaller ones would be piled inside.

Dipa was hanging out of the window jabbering to them in his funny little Eastern voice,

“One, two, three – very big to lift. You like me help?”

“You stay where you are, Sonny!” the cabman answered. “If you get underneath me feet, you’ll be squashed flat as a beetle.”

“What is a beetle?” Dipa asked. “I know, same as little bee. I not beetle, I big boy!”

“Is that the child?” Nanny asked.

She was looking at Dipa, Carina realised, with something like horror in her eyes.

There was no doubt that he did not look like the conventional child a Governess would be expected to tutor.

In the mistaken idea of making him look English, Mrs. Bagot had dressed him for the journey in a blue serge sailor suit with a wide naval collar and he had a little sailor cap to wear with it. It made him look ludicrous and accentuated the yellow of his skin and the strangeness of his cropped head.

“He has a velvet suit in his case with a real lace collar for best,” Mrs. Bagot explained, “but I thought you wouldn’t want him to wear it in the train, he might be sick over it.”

“No – no – of course not,” Carina had agreed, thankful not to have to make a decision about Dipa’s clothes. But now she was wondering if the velvet suit would not have been more becoming.

Dipa saw Carina standing in the doorway and waved to her.