‘How on earth do I tell the others that their father has gone?’ I entreated her. ‘And that they don’t even have a body to bury? They’ll feel like I do, that he’s simply disappeared into thin air.’

‘Your father thought of that before he died, and Georg Hoffman, his lawyer, contacted me earlier today. I promise you that each and every one of you will get a chance to say goodbye to him.’

‘Even in death, Pa has everything under control,’ I said with a despairing sigh. ‘I’ve left messages for all my sisters, by the way, but as yet, no one has called me back.’

‘Well, Georg Hoffman is on standby to come here as soon as you’ve all arrived. And please, Maia, don’t ask me what he’ll have to say, for I haven’t a clue. Now, I had Claudia prepare some soup for you. I doubt you’ve eaten anything since this morning. Would you prefer to take it to the Pavilion, or do you want to stay here in the house tonight?’

‘I’ll have some soup here, and then I’ll go home if you don’t mind. I think I need to be alone.’

‘Of course.’ Marina reached towards me and gave me a hug. ‘I understand what a terrible shock this is for you. And I’m sorry that yet again you’re bearing the burden of responsibility for the rest of the girls, but it was you he asked me to tell first. I don’t know whether you find any comfort in that. Now, shall I go and ask Claudia to warm the soup? I think we could both do with a little comfort food.’

After we’d eaten, I told Marina to go to bed and kissed her goodnight, for I could see that she too was exhausted. Before I left the house, I climbed the many stairs to the top floor and peered into each of my sisters’ rooms. All remained as they had been when their occupants left home to take flight on their chosen paths, and each room still displayed their very different personalities. Whenever they returned, like doves to their waterside nest, none of them seemed to have the vaguest interest in changing them. Including me.

Opening the door to my old room, I went to the shelf where I still kept my most treasured childhood possessions. I took down an old china doll which Pa had given to me when I was very young. As always, he’d woven a magical story of how the doll had once belonged to a young Russian countess, but she had been lonely in her snowy palace in Moscow when her mistress had grown up and forgotten her. He told me her name was Leonora and that she needed a new pair of arms to love her.

Putting the doll back on the shelf, I reached for the box that contained a gift Pa had given me on my sixteenth birthday; I opened it and drew out the necklace inside.