‘And so you decided to marry the other guy? Go with convention.’

‘It wasn’t as conscious as that, but yes. We had both been invited to a mutual friend’s family wedding in Edinburgh so we agreed to travel up together.’ She shrugged. ‘We weren’t together at that point, but I drank too much, as I always used to back then, and he . . . he jokingly suggested we were bound to get married sooner or later and that we should just elope. Things were difficult for him with his parents too. It just seemed to solve so many problems at a stroke.’ She shook her head. ‘I really thought it was the best idea I’d ever heard in my life: it seemed so obvious, standing there in the registry office – if I could change my name, I could change my destiny.’ She looked at Señora Quincy. ‘You can understand that, can’t you? You turned your back on your financial fortune, you changed your name, your politics. Your circumstances.’

The old woman nodded.

‘And so you know that it makes no difference to who you are inside. That deep down we can’t change our nature. The girl who left this house eighty years ago vowing never to return – she’s still there, isn’t she, though you’ve tried to hide her, deny her? Isn’t that why you’ve come back?’

Señora Quincy was very still, before she nodded again. ‘In spite of it all, he is my twin. We came into this world together.’

Marina looked between the two of them, seeing the affinity – the parallels – between them. ‘So what happened to the ex? Boyfriend I mean, not husband.’

He’s upstairs packing, she didn’t say. ‘He’s moved on. He’s living abroad and got a family of his own now.’

‘Are you in touch?’

She swallowed. ‘Not really.’

‘. . . Probably for the best,’ Marina said finally, looking for a positive outcome.

‘Yeah.’

‘It’s such a shame though, about your wedding. Just when you’d got yourself sorted again. Why would your fiancé think you did it deliberately?’

‘He’s a very organized man. He thinks I must have known the divorce hadn’t come through but that I just didn’t want to marry him and this was my way out.’

‘Pretty dramatic way out!’ Marina scoffed.

‘I know.’ She saw that Señora Quincy was still watching her, as though assessing her, and she forced a smile. ‘Anyway, that is quite enough about me and my disastrous life. We are here to get yours sorted out, at least. Are you ready to see your brother again, señora?’

The old lady nodded, taking a breath that swelled her up. As if on cue – had they been listening? – two orderlies came into the room and helped her into the wheelchair.

As she rose, a couple of objects fell from the folds of her dress.

‘Oh, I’ll get them,’ Charlotte said, stepping forward to retrieve them. She held up a worn-smooth, pale stone. At a certain angle, it looked heart-shaped.