After the cousins came the accountants, who were more open in their appraisals and didn’t bother with Alice at all, and after the accountants, like a biblical plague building up to a big finish, came the lawyers. They belonged to several different firms and seemed to have come to argue with one another, and for the most part they paid no attention to Alice either. She stood grimly in the dining room, in her short-sleeved black dress, feeling like an overlooked decoration.

Eventually, one of the lawyers came and told her they were going to have a chat. She wondered if he was their leader. He was certainly the largest, his coal-grey suit straining to contain his girth, and he had an enormous grey moustache that drooped past the corners of his mouth, the ends stained nicotine-yellow. When he came to fetch her, he affected a jolly, avuncular manner that made it clear it had been years since he’d dealt with anyone under the age of thirty.

She followed him up to her father’s study, and seethed quietly as he seated himself behind the desk in her father’s chair. It creaked alarmingly beneath his bulk. Alice stood in front of the desk, as she had so many times before, and fought the illusion that her father had somehow transformed into this smoke-stinking whale of a man.

‘So, my girl,’ he said, ‘you have my sincerest condolences. Terrible business. A terrible business. You understand what’s happened, don’t you?’

I’m twelve, Alice thought, not five. She made herself nod. ‘I understand.’

‘My name is Mr Pallworthy. I’m here to look after things on behalf of your father’s business partners, that sort of thing.’

Alice, feeling that a response was called for, nodded again.

‘I don’t imagine you know very much about your father’s business’ – his deep-set eyes flicked to her, as though to confirm this – ‘but that’s fine. We’ll take care of everything, don’t you worry.’ He reached under the desk and brought up a heavy briefcase, from which he extracted a thick sheaf of paper. ‘Now, your father’s primary interests had suffered, unfortunately, from our current market conditions . . .’

He went on, his tone changing from the jolly talking-to-children voice to a going-through-the-motions drone. Alice could follow what he was reading, possibly better than Mr Pallworthy himself could – his voice faltered when he came to some of the more arcane financial terms – but the gist was clear from the outset. There was nothing left, nothing at all, and it was only by the extreme generosity of the creditors represented by Mr Pallworthy that Alice would be allowed to leave the building with the clothes on her back.