‘Well, I hope someone can,’ I muttered grimly.

‘Now, do you mind if I leave you to eat alone? I have a thousand things to do before your sisters arrive.’

‘Of course. Thank you, Ma,’ I said. ‘I don’t know what we’d all do without you.’

‘Or I without you.’ She patted me on the shoulder and left the kitchen.

4

Just after five that evening, after an afternoon of wandering aimlessly about the gardens, then trying to settle down to some translation work in an attempt to take my mind off Pa, I heard the motor launch pulling in at the jetty. Relieved that Tiggy had finally arrived and that at least I’d no longer be alone with my thoughts, I flung open the front door and ran across the lawns to greet her.

I watched her as she emerged gracefully from the boat. Pa had often suggested that she take ballet lessons when she was younger; for Tiggy didn’t walk, she floated, carrying her lithe, slim body so lightly, it was as if her feet didn’t touch the ground. She had an almost other-worldly presence, with her huge liquid eyes, framed by thick eyelashes, dominating her heart-shaped face. As I watched her, I was suddenly struck by her resemblance to the fragile young deer she so ardently took care of.

‘Darling Maia,’ she said, stretching out her arms towards me.

We stood for a moment in a silent embrace. When she pulled back from me, I saw her eyes were brimming with tears.

‘How are you?’ she asked.

‘Shell-shocked, numb . . . You?’

‘The same. Still unable to take it in,’ she replied as we began to walk towards the house, our arms clasped tightly around each other’s shoulders.

Tiggy stopped abruptly on the terrace and turned to me.

‘Is Pa . . . ?’ She glanced at the house. ‘If he is, I just need to prepare myself for a moment.’

‘No, Tiggy, he’s not in the house any longer.’

‘Oh, I suppose they’ve taken him to a . . .’ Her voice tailed off miserably at the thought.

‘Let’s go inside, have a cup of tea and I’ll explain everything.’

‘You know, I tried to feel him . . . I mean, his spirit,’ Tiggy said with a sigh. ‘But there’s simply a void; nothing there.’

‘Maybe it’s too soon to feel anything,’ I comforted, used to Tiggy’s strange ideas and not wishing to crush them with harsh pragmatism. ‘I certainly can’t,’ I added as we walked into the kitchen.

Claudia was at the sink and as she turned to see Tiggy – who I’d always suspected was her favourite – I saw the sympathy in her eyes.

‘Isn’t it just terrible?’ Tiggy said, giving her a hug. She was the only one of us who felt comfortable enough to physically embrace Claudia.

‘Yes, terrible indeed,’ agreed Claudia. ‘You and Maia go to the drawing room. I will bring tea to you in there.’

‘Where’s Ma?’ asked Tiggy as we made our way through the house.