‘You are not. I have been watching you for the last five minutes. Bring her over. We can’t have a conversation one hundred metres apart.’

The maid did as her mistress asked and reluctantly walked me back across the terrace and down the steps into the garden. She ushered me in front of the old woman, and then read out the details of my card.

‘She is Senhorita Maia D’Aplièse and she is a translator.’

Now face to face with the woman, I could see she was emaciated, her skin a deathly grey, as though her life force was slowly ebbing away. But as her gimlet eyes swept over me, and a fleeting look of recognition and shock passed across them, I knew she was mentally alert.

‘Why are you here?’ she asked.

‘It’s a long story.’

‘What do you want?’

‘Nothing, I . . .’

‘Senhorita D’Aplièse told me that she had an association with this house,’ said the maid, almost, I thought, encouragingly.

‘Really? And what kind of association would that be?’

‘I’ve been told that this was the house in which I was born,’ I said.

‘Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, senhorita, but there have been no babies born under this roof since my own child, over fifty-five years ago. Isn’t that so, Yara?’ she said to her maid.

‘Sim, senhora.’

‘So, who gave you this information? Someone who wishes to form a relationship with me so that they can inherit this house when I am dead, no doubt?’

‘No, senhora, I promise that this has nothing to do with money. That’s not the reason I’m here,’ I said firmly.

‘Then please explain more clearly why you are.’

‘Because . . . I was adopted as a baby. My adoptive father died last week, and wrote me a letter saying that this house was where my family once lived.’ I stared at her, hoping the truth of what I’d said was visible in my eyes.

‘I see.’ Again she surveyed me carefully, seeming to hesitate before she replied. ‘Then I must tell you that your father has made a terrible mistake and you have had a wasted journey. I am sorry to be of no further help. Goodbye.’

As I finally allowed the maid to lead me away, I knew with absolute certainty that the old woman was lying.

10

Even though it was only eight in the evening when I arrived back at the hotel, my body was telling me it was after midnight and I made the mistake of falling into a deep and dreamless sleep, waking up with the dawn at five the following morning.

I lay in bed contemplating what I had seen and learnt yesterday. Despite the old woman’s vehement denials, every instinct I had was telling me that Pa Salt had not been wrong. However, I thought ruefully, I had no idea what I could do about it. Whatever both the woman and her maid knew, they’d made it obvious they weren’t going to share it with me.