‘It must have been difficult to decide what was right to do,’ said Miss Marple thoughtfully. ‘Where children were concerned, I mean. With the prospect of possible invasion, it might have meant their being brought up under a German régime — as well as the danger of bombs.’

‘All nonsense,’ said Mrs Strete. ‘I never had the least doubt that we should win. But mother has always been quite unreasonable where Gina is concerned. The child was always spoilt and indulged in every way. There was absolutely no need to take her away from Italy in the first place.’

‘Her father raised no objection, I understand?’

‘Oh San Severiano! You know what Italians are. Nothing matters to them but money. He married Pippa for her money, of course.’

‘Dear me. I always understood he was very devoted to her and was quite inconsolable at her death.’

‘He pretended to be, no doubt. Why mother ever countenanced her marrying a foreigner, I can’t imagine. Just the usual American pleasure in a title, I suppose.’

Miss Marple said mildly:

‘I always thought that dear Carrie Louise was almost too unworldly in her attitude to life.’

‘Oh, I know. I’ve no patience with it. Mother’s fads and whims and idealistic projects. You’ve no idea, Aunt Jane, of all that it has meant. I can speak with knowledge, of course. I was brought up in the middle of it all.’

It was with a very faint shock that Miss Marple heard herself addressed as Aunt Jane. And yet that had been the convention of those times. Her Christmas presents to Carrie Louise’s children were always labelled ‘With love from Aunt Jane,’ and as ‘Aunt Jane’ they thought of her, when they thought of her at all. Which was not, Miss Marple supposed, very often.

She looked thoughtfully at the middle-aged woman sitting beside her. At the pursed tight mouth, the deep lines from the nose down, the hands tightly pressed together.

She said gently:

‘You must have had — a difficult childhood.’

Mildred Strete turned eager grateful eyes to her.

‘Oh I’m so glad that somebody appreciates that. People don’t really know what children go through. Pippa, you see, was the pretty one. She was older than I was, too. It was always she who got all the attention. Both father and mother encouraged her to push herself forward — not that she needed any encouragement — to show off. I was always the quiet one. I was shy — Pippa didn’t know what shyness was. A child can suffer a great deal, Aunt Jane.’

‘I know that,’ said Miss Marple.

‘ “Mildred’s so stupid” — that’s what Pippa used to say. But I was younger than she was. Naturally I couldn’t be expected to keep up with her in lessons. And it’s very unfair on a child when her sister is always put in front of her.

‘ “What a lovely little girl,” people used to say to Mamma. They never noticed me. And it was Pippa that Papa used to joke and play with. Someone ought to have seen how hard it was on me. All the notice and attention going to her. I wasn’t old enough to realize that it’s character that matters.’