The sound of scales being softly played rises from the room below. Damn Madame Roscova. My poor darling girl. I sit up and take a last look about the room, knowing the police will be all over it soon and Diana’s world will be broken. I will be strong for her. Everything has been for her. I pull on my dressing gown and head downstairs.

Popping my head into the small kitchen, Mrs Hoskine is not there and the smell of coffee turns my stomach. The soft sound of Mozart fills the hallway. There is no sign of anyone else. But The Times is laying open on the hallway table. My glance falls to the article entitled ‘Russia Begins New Nuclear Tests . . . Forty Megaton Blast Reported.’

I have done the right thing, but knowing that doesn’t make me feel any better. I close the paper. Who is up aside from Diana? George? Would he have left the paper open for me?

The music changes to ‘Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star’. I have to go to her, but once she knows I don’t think I will be able to face her grief. The hall clock chimes the half hour. It is half past six. Just a few hours ago I pushed my husband over the cliff and now he will be lying on the rocks as the tide comes in. I need to act. If he is swept away it will draw more attention to the problem. God, it isn’t a problem. It is . . . I don’t know, but whatever it is, I am the cause.

Forcing my feet to move, I look in the snug in case anyone is watching. It is empty. I then make my way to the drawing room. Her back is straight. Her ballet mistress would be proud. She plays ‘Frère Jacques’ with growing intensity. She is having a little joke with us after yesterday morning, no doubt. I swallow and sit on the bench next to her.

‘Morning, Mummy.’ She smiles. ‘Thought this might bring Daddy downstairs. It’s such a glorious morning, I’d like to go for a swim.’

I draw in a sharp breath. She mustn’t go to the beach. ‘What a lovely idea, but I’m not sure where Daddy is.’ I glance about the room.

‘Surely he’s in your room.’

‘No, I woke up and he wasn’t there. I thought he might be asleep down here.’

She giggles. ‘He does that sometimes, doesn’t he?’

I nod, stand and look about the room. Mrs Hoskine has already been through and gathered all the glasses.

Diana jumps up. ‘I’ll help you find him.’ She grabs my hand. ‘You look very tired, Mummy.’

I run my free hand through my hair, still sticky with hair spray. ‘I’m not surprised. It was quite a party last night.’

She nods. ‘I heard someone singing rude songs at one point.’

I glance down at her. ‘Sorry.’