She knew it was unlikely that anyone had bolted the door of the house and she let herself in knowing that she was too miserable to be hungry.
She wondered if later she could go into the kitchen and beg for something to eat.
She would have to admit then that she had lied and she knew, even if they were too polite to ask what her plans were, that the Adamses and Nanny for that matter would be wondering what she intended to do.
She walked down the passage and, just as she had done when she was a child, she went into her mother’s sitting room feeling that perhaps everything that had happened had just been a dream.
She would find her mother either sitting at her desk worrying over the bills that had not been paid or sitting before the fire sewing with her workbox beside her.
Although it ha
