I dared not look at Jeremy, who was as a man in a dream. I saw that Smith was close beside him and I was grateful to Smith. He had looked after Jeremy in the past and would do so now.

Back at the house we partook of some refreshment—ham, beef and little pies with mulled wine. In the great hall the company was assembled—a quiet, sad company. They talked of Damaris’s many virtues. It is the custom at funerals to praise the deceased’s accomplishments and gifts—but in the case of Damaris the compliments were deserved.

How we should miss her! This house would not be the same again. I realized that it was her presence which had dispersed that air of menace.

Jeanne had said it was not a happy house; now it seemed to me that it was haunted by malevolent ghosts.

The guests had departed and silence fell on the house. Jeremy went to the room he had shared with Damaris and shut himself in with his grief.

I suggested to Sabrina that we walk round the gardens for an hour and she agreed to come with me. She was silent for a while and then she began to talk about the funeral.

‘My Mama is down there in that big hole in that box,’ she said. ‘It was a nice box, with shiny woods and a lot of gold on it.’

‘Brass,’ I said.

‘Gold’s better than brass. But you can’t bury gold, can you? It costs too much. The gravestones look like old women… men, too… wrapped in grey cloaks.’

‘Yes,’ I agreed. ‘A little.’

‘When it’s night they stop being stones and turn into people.’

‘Who told you that?’

‘I heard them talking.’

She meant the servants. I knew they gossiped together and several of them were sure Enderby was haunted.

‘And,’ went on Sabrina, ‘the graves open and dead people come out of their coffins.’

‘That’s nonsense.’

‘They dance on the graves and if anybody goes there when they’re dancing they catch them, and won’t let them go. They take their hearts and everything and keep them for themselves. Then they’re alive again and the other one is dead.’

‘Where on earth did you hear such gruesome tales?’

‘I won’t tell.’

‘You made them up.’

‘Perhaps.’

‘Sabrina,’ I said, ‘it’s nice to be with you. The two of us together. Do you think so?’

‘It would be, if…’

‘If what?’

‘Just if,’ she said.

I fancied the old Sabrina was returning. She laughed a little. I thought: She’s getting over it. She’s only a child really.

I stayed for three weeks in that house of mourning and during that time the sadness did not diminish. Jeremy nursed his grief. He was the sort of man who concentrates his main affection on one person and that person had been Damaris. His wife had been the centre of his life, and his love for her, his need of her, was so intense that nothing else could encroach on it. His wife would always come first, and although he would have been fond of his children, they would always have taken second place in his affections; and he. was a stern disciplinarian. He had wanted a son and Damans had always hoped to give him one. The miscarriage had been a bitter disappointment but was of secondary importance compared with the loss of Damaris. When she had died he had lost his will to live and his was not the temperament to allow him to adjust to a new set of circumstances. Nor did he make any effort to do so, and because Sabrina’s wayward, thoughtless act had brought about the tragedy he remembered it whenever he saw her. I knew it would be well for Sabrina to keep out of his way. She knew it too, poor child, and robbed of her mother, whom she had deeply loved, found no one to whom she could turn but myself and Nanny Curlew.

I should have gone back to London but I did not feel I could leave Sabrina in this unhappy state. So I stayed on and spent as much time as possible with her and I was rewarded by occasional glimpses of the child she used to be.

Then came the night when she was missing.

Nanny Curlew came to me in great distress.

‘I went to her room,’ she said. ‘She was getting ready for bed. I heard her saying her prayers. I saw her into bed and told her you might be along to tell her a story.’

‘I did go in,’ I answered. ‘But she seemed sleepy so I tucked her in and kissed her good night.’

‘The minx,’ said Nanny Curlew. ‘She must have got up and gone off somewhere.’

‘Whatever for?’

‘You can never know with Miss. But she’s up to something, you can be sure.’

‘We must find her, Nanny, and bring her back to bed. I expect she’s in the attic. She likes hiding up there.’

‘I’ll go up right away and look, Miss Clarissa.’

‘I’ll come with you,’ I said.

We were dismayed to find she was not in the attic. We searched through the house. No one had seen her. Nanny Curlew and I looked anxiously at each other.

‘She must have gone out,’ I said. ‘Why… and where?’

‘She’s been strange lately. She’s upset about her mother… and there’s her father. She seems frightened of him and keeps saying she hates him.’

‘Poor, poor little Sabrina. We must find her quickly, Nanny.’

We hurried back to her room. Her slippers were gone and so was her dressing-gown, but the rest of her clothes were there.

‘She can’t go far,’ I said. ‘She’s not dressed for going out. Oh, where can she have gone?’

I tried to think of her favourite places. The stables was one. We went there together. There was no sign of her. Her pony was there so she had not taken him. That was a relief. The thought of her going out at night on her pony was terrifying.

As we came out of the stables, Damon ran up to us. He was essentially Jeremy’s dog and slunk about mournfully these days as though aware of the tragedy which had befallen the household, but he was constantly in Sabrina’s company.

I called to him: ‘Damon, Damon. Where is she? Where is Sabrina?’

He gave a little bark and looked at me with limpid, sorrowing eyes.

‘Find her for us, Damon,’ I said. ‘Please, Damon, find Sabrina.’

The dog wagged his tail, looked up at us and whimpered. Then he turned and started trotting towards the house.

I followed him in disappointment. I was sure Sabrina was not there.

As we neared the house Smith appeared.

‘Hi, Damon,’ he cried. ‘I was looking for you, boy.’

Then he saw us.

‘Oh Smith,’ I cried. ‘We can’t find Sabrina.’

Smith looked grave. ‘Not in her bed, then?’

‘No. We’ve searched the house. We think she must have gone out. I can’t think why and I can’t think where. Have you any idea?’

There was a special bond between Smith and Sabrina, as there had been between myself and the man. He was of the kind who has little time for adults but a great deal more to spare for children. I had discovered that; so had Sabrina.

‘Poor mite,’ he said. ‘This is a hard time for her. The mistress… going. The master as he is…’

‘I’m worried, Smith. So is Nanny. Where could she have got to?’

He said after a moment: ‘Damon will take us to her. He’ll know where the little missee is. Come on, boy.’

Damon was pricking up his ears. He stood very still as though testing the air; and then he started trotting away from the house. He stopped and looked back at us.

‘He’s asking us to follow him,’ said Smith.

I cried out: ‘Good Damon. Take us to Sabrina, Damon.’

He started to trot in the direction of the church. He paused by the lych-gate which led into the graveyard. Smith opened it and we all went through.

I knew then that Sabrina had gone to her mother’s grave.

I saw her first. She was kneeling and her arms were spread out over the earth.

‘Sabrina!’ I cried. ‘Oh… Sabrina.’

She did not move and for a moment a terrible fear ran through me. I ran to her and, kneeling beside her, turned her body to face me. She was deathly pale and her eyes were wide.

‘Clarissa,’ she said and threw herself at me. I held her tightly. She was shivering.

‘Nobody came,’ she said. ‘The graves didn’t open. I waited… and it was just the same.’

‘We must get her to bed quickly,’ I said. ‘She’s shivering with the cold.’

Smith picked her up in his strong arms.

‘So you left your bed, Miss,’ began Nanny Curlew.

I put a hand on her arm. ‘Don’t scold… now,’ I whispered.

Sabrina reached for my hand and I took hers and kissed it. Nanny Curlew said: ‘We’ll soon have you safe in bed.’

Damon jumped up, barking.

‘Good dog, Damon,’ I said. ‘Damon brought us to you, Sabrina. Let’s get going quickly. It’s all right. I’m going to look after you now.’

‘Always?’ asked Sabrina.

‘Always,’ I said firmly.

Smith carried her back and we put her to bed. She lay shivering while Nanny Curlew warmed up some broth and I wrapped her in blankets.

She said: ‘Stay with me, Clarissa.’ So I lay down beside her, holding her tightly in my arms.

I hoped she would sleep but she could not. She drank the broth and nestled close to me, holding on to my hand tightly as though she feared I was going to run away.

‘Clarissa,’ she said.

‘Darling, try to sleep. You can tell me tomorrow.’

She was silent for a while, then she said my name again.

‘What is it?’ I asked gently.

‘They don’t come out.’

‘Who?’

‘Dead people in graves.’

‘No,’ I said, ‘they’re at peace. They have finished with the world. They don’t want to come back.’

‘My Mama would want to. She would want to come back for me.’

‘She would want you to be happy here.’

‘I want to go with her. I wanted one of them to come out and take my heart and make me dead so that I could get into the grave with my mother.’

‘Oh, Sabrina,’ I said, ‘you couldn’t do that. You have to live your life here and make it happy.’

‘It won’t be now because… I killed her.’

‘That’s nonsense.’

‘I did, I did. I went skating and she came and saved me and it killed her.’

‘No. It’s not like that at all. She was ill long ago before you were born. She was just ill again.’

‘But she wouldn’t have been if she hadn’t got cold on the ice.’

‘Listen, Sabrina, we are going to forget all that. It’s over. It is what your mother would want.’

‘My Papa won’t forget about it.’

‘Things like that happen sometimes. They can’t be helped. When they are over there is nothing to be done but forget them. You’re going to forget, Sabrina. I will make you forget.’

‘But…’

‘Listen. You went on the ice when you were forbidden to do so. You fell in and your mother saved you. That was what she wanted. She was ill for a while. Then she was better. Then she was ill again.’

‘Was she better?’ asked Sabrina.

‘Of course she was,’ I lied. ‘She was ill before and she had the same illness again.’

‘My Papa…’

‘He loved your mother dearly. He is hurt and wounded and when people are hurt they like to blame other people. It’s wrong… but it’s human. So be gentle with him… and stop blaming yourself.’

‘You say nice things, Clarissa.’

‘I say what’s true.’

She was comforted and lay beside me, holding my hand tightly. I stayed with her until she slept. Then I crept quietly away.

The next day I saw Jeremy. He did not want to see me. He didn’t want to see anybody. But I insisted.

I was very shocked by his haggard looks, but more, perhaps, by the bitterness of his mouth. Smith had said: ‘He’s gone right back, Miss Clarissa, right back to what he was before he went to France and brought you home.’

He had been a bitter, angry man in those days, railing against fate, living the life of a recluse. Was that what he was going to return to?

‘Jeremy,’ I said, ‘I’m sorry to disturb you, but I want to talk to you. It’s about Sabrina.’

He frowned as though the very mention of her name was distasteful to him.

‘We have to remember how young she is,’ I went on. ‘She is only seven years old.’

He nodded, a little impatient with me, I thought, for reminding him of an obvious fact.

‘Children are very impressionable and this tragedy is having an effect on her.’

‘I should hope it is,’ he retorted. ‘She should be made to realize what her wickedness has brought about.’

‘Jeremy, it was the thoughtless act of a child!’

‘She had been told skating was dangerous and warned not to go.’

‘But danger appeals to children, don’t you see?’