‘I would like to come and interview you, if that’s all right.’

‘You mean, you will put my name in the paper and everything?’

‘And everything.’

‘Best to start getting ready, then. How do you feel about koeksisters?’

‘I rather like them, and the feeling seems to be mutual, especially over the past five years, and definitely over the hip area.’

Louisa Alcott, Mrs, laughed so hard at this mediocre joke that she actually snorted into the phone, and then apologised profusely.

When Saskia arrived at the Alcott Farm about an hour and a half later, she found Louisa Alcott, Mrs, waiting for her on her veranda. She was a pretty woman, not quite middle-aged, but definitely wearied by the war. She had prepared a wonderful tea spread. On the table was a beautiful tea set of the finest china, decorated with pink periwinkles. On this china was a mountain of scones slathered with butter and strawberry jam, a pyramid of koeksisters doused and dripping with syrup, a tray of Choice Assorted biscuits, and an arrangement of sad-looking cucumber sandwiches that seemed like an afterthought. There was also a half-read Mills & Boon romance novel, lying open and face down on the table.

When Saskia got back to The Chronicle’s offices, she, perhaps because of the sweetness of the day, could not help but sour it a little by adding salt to a wound that she was sure had not yet healed. She used her index finger to search for and locate one of the many telephone numbers jotted down on her desk calendar. The person on the other end answered after the second ring, and Saskia told this person about her meeting with Louisa Alcott, Mrs, and stressed how well the meeting had gone – how credible Louisa Alcott, Mrs, was. So credible, in fact, that Saskia was planning on publishing the interview in the paper.

The person on the other end of the line was silent for a long time, and Saskia took pleasure in that until the person said, ‘I would strongly advise against you doing that, Mrs Hargrave.’

The ‘Mrs’ was stressed as though it was meant to sting, but Saskia did not allow herself to feel that sting as she, having expected discouragement, asked, ‘Why?’