‘Well, that one’s my great-great-aunt Dorothea,’ said Iona, wheeling in a trolley. ‘She went down the Nile in 1895.’

‘How amazing!’ said Sara.

‘I have her sketch books. She never married so they’ve ended up with me.’ She carefully lifted a cafétière and poured coffee into two china cups on saucers. ‘Milk and sugar?’

‘Just milk, please.’ Sara took the cup and they sat down on the sofa. Its proportions and her distance from Iona felt identical to her conversation with Morahan the previous evening.

‘You’ve come from the office,’ said Iona.

‘Yes.’

‘Of course you have. That’s where I phoned you.’ Iona slumped a notch, for the first time creases dusting her face. ‘How was it there?’

‘Quiet.’

‘Waiting for the dam to burst, I suppose.’ Sara allowed her a moment. ‘I don’t know how to say it to the girls.’

‘Have you spoken to them?’

‘I waited till this morning. I couldn’t really bear to. I said it seemed to be a heart attack. They’re on the way up.’

‘I’m sure that will be a comfort.’

‘Will it?’

Sara had a powerful sense of her striving to say something. She tried to radiate empathy, hoping whatever it was would emerge without prompting.

‘You see…’ continued Iona. She stopped again.

‘Nothing you say will go beyond this room,’ said Sara.

‘You and I share certain knowledge. Of some recent events.’

‘Yes.’

‘Though he knew you only briefly, Francis’s trust in you was clearly unreserved.’

‘It seemed so. I appreciated it.’

Iona straightened herself, summoning energy. ‘To fully understand him, I have decided to share knowledge with you of certain past events. Just possibly they may have relevance.’

‘I see,’ said, Sara, waiting, trying not to betray the breathlessness of her anticipation.

‘Francis had a predilection.’ Iona took a tissue from a slit in a bronze box on the side table and patted her face. ‘It was the real reason he resigned as Attorney General. It turned out he had formed a friendship with a young man. A relationship. But it turned sour and Francis felt threatened. And wounded. Of course, I was shocked when he confessed to me. I hadn’t suspected at all.’ She had been looking down at her hands and now raised her head. ‘Though there was always a feminine side to him. It made him a kind person. But that doesn’t have to mean homosexual.’

‘No, of course not,’ said Sara.

‘Or gay. Or whatever you like to call it. But it didn’t make me feel for one minute that I wanted to part from him. Our lives together were never dominated by that side of things. We had too much in common, too much to gain from each other at home and professionally. I said it shouldn’t change us and if he wanted to have such relationships, I was happy to be deaf and blind.’

‘That was generous of you.’