‘This is where the servants used to live,’ said Zoe. ‘They’re small rooms but just what we need, aren’t they, Camille? This way.’

They went into Camille’s bedroom, at the far end of the attic. The bed had been placed against a partition wall with a bathroom converted for an invalid behind. On the opposite wall was a barred window that Marnie recognised as the one beneath the large gable at the front of the house. The room was warm, hot air pumping through vents.

The nurse took off the coat and hat, helped Camille sit down in an easy chair, and unwound the scarf from her neck. ‘There we go,’ she said, ‘that’s better. Let’s check you over.’

Marnie stood back, hovering, waiting to be told what to do.

Zoe talked to Camille as she examined her. ‘That husband of yours, what are we going to do with him?’ She turned to Marnie. ‘I’m forever telling Mr deV to make sure he takes the keys out of the doors and puts them up somewhere where Camille can’t find them, but does he listen? No. It’s almost as if he wants her to go wandering. He says he’s worried about locking the doors in case of fire, but I’m always here, and Maya too. We wouldn’t leave you to burn, Camille, would we, dear? We’d never abandon you.’

The warmth of the bedroom was oppressive. Marnie’s eyes felt itchy and hot. They were drawn to a painting of the young Camille sitting on a daisy-speckled lawn.

‘It’s a lovely picture, isn’t it?’ said the nurse. ‘Camille’s father commissioned it for her eighteenth birthday. You like to look at that one, don’t you, Camille? It brings back happy memories.’

‘It was before Edward,’ Mrs deVillars said.

‘That’s right.’

‘When my parents were alive.’

‘Yes.’

‘Those were such lovely times.’

‘I know, dear.’

The nurse directed a thermometer to the old woman’s forehead and looked at the reading.

‘OK, that’s not too bad. I’m going to run you a bath. Can you stay a few more minutes, Marnie? I won’t be long.’

She went round the partition behind the bed and moments later Marnie heard the splashing of water and the thrum of a boiler firing up.

‘Just need to warm some towels!’ Zoe called from behind the partition. ‘Two ticks!’

Marnie pulled up a chair and sat facing the old woman.

Mrs deVillars looked at her. ‘Is that you, Marnie? Come closer so I can see you properly.’

Marnie did as she’d been asked.

The old woman looked around, then leaned forward, lowering her voice. ‘I knew this was going to happen. Denise wrote me a letter.’