Simon nodded. “Will told me his grandfather gave virtually all the supplies his company had to some starving refugees. They were retreating from the Russians, so I understand; had traveled all the way from Dresden. And one of them gave him the camera, virtually forced it on him. For Will, no modern camera came close to matching the finesse of an original Leica.”

Alex was untying the wrapping with careful fingers, and now he unrolled the camera. All the mountings were of warm-toned nickel, the case vulcanite; it looked well used and loved but in excellent shape. He glanced at the count: the roll was not used up.

Meanwhile, Lucy had taken the other leather bags and begun to investigate. As Alex had predicted, two beautiful original lenses were in two of the pouches; but in the third she found four film cassette tubs, which she shook. Simon found another two in his pouch, plus a small cassette which sounded empty when he shook it. Lucy relieved him of it, popped off the lid, and probed her finger inside.

“It’s a bunch of exposure notes for processing, and there’s a delivery slip, registered.” She scanned the paper. “Sent special service, from the post office in Caen. Addressed to somebody called Brown on Thirty-Fourth Street in New York City.”

Alex leaned across to see the writing. “Roland Brown—an independent, but associated with Magnum, Will’s photographic agency. They syndicated most of Will’s best stuff in the States. Roland was a good friend—kept an office in London too, I think. He was mad about Will’s Leica II, because the old uncoated lens gave a completely different quality to the pictures. Loved it even more fiercely once digital pictures started to dominate.”

“Will loved it because its shutter was silent, and no one knew you were taking the pictures,” Lucy stated calmly.

Simon nodded, but Grace looked at her, startled. “How on earth could you know that?”

Lucy smiled. “You learn a lot of useless things working on documentaries in South America, Grace. Not the same education you get from Light Entertainment,” Lucy suggested.

Alex looked at her. They hadn’t discussed keeping her secret—which would have a complex impact and be highly emotive for everyone; but he saw at once that they would never have to.

He took her hand appreciatively. “We’re late for dinner. Shall we bring these to the pub? Much too valuable to leave out here.” Henry turned off the garage light; they pulled coats on and started ambling down the lane in the cool air. “It’s only five minutes’ walk,” Alex assured them; but he slipped an arm around Lucy once out of his father’s hearing, and added for her alone: “Just five minutes down the road at the end of a rainbow.” And they grinned at each other.

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