Then back to Jury. “Moira got jobs through this agency—Malraux Agency, high-class agency that handles basically French workers and only the best housekeepers, maids, cooks, cleaners—back when you could get people through agencies. When housecleaning meant something.”

“It’s never meant anything to me.”

“Back when staff meant something.”

“Ditto. Except for Melrose Plant’s.”

“The good old days—”

“How would you know? You’ve always lived in a rented flat, same as me.”

“Could we get off the class system, Jury?”

“You’re the one who was on it. Go ahead with Moira’s agency work.”

“It’s the same one Manon Vinet was listed with. Not surprising, I suppose, as they both ended up at Summerplace.”

“So what about Flora Flood’s uncle? We’ve seen sod all of him. He seemed strangely absent from a niece who could be in a hell of a lot of trouble.” When Macalvie said nothing, Jury went on: “I expect I should talk to Frank Flood and Lady Summerston.”

“At least.”

“Do you mean there are others I should talk to? Or that’s the least I can do for you?”

“Probably both. I leave that to you. ’Bye.”

“Hold on a minute. About Daisy Brownell: from what I’ve heard, she certainly didn’t sound suicidal.”

Macalvie was silent for a few moments. Then he said, “Let me tell you about Daisy Brownell. I had a friend. ‘Had’ because she’s dead now. Died when she was in her early forties from some kind of aggressive cancer. Lived in Penzance. She had a twenty-year-old daughter who’d been in an automobile accident and was in hospital in a coma. The accident happened when the girl was nineteen and she’d been in a coma for ten months. No hope, obviously, of coming out of it. They lived on St. Mary’s. Her mother, my friend, Annie, went to the hospital in Penzance every day, every day and talked to her and read books to her. For ten damned months. Until she died. Annie died, I mean–the mother. From the cancer. But a couple of weeks before she died, I was telling Daisy Brownell this story. Daisy was appalled by the sadness of it. She asked me, the next day, if she could go and see Annie. Was she too sick to have visitors? I said no, but why? I mean Daisy didn’t know her, after all. Daisy said she just wanted to talk to her about something.