‘It looks like two small girls,’ said Nell, almost in a whisper. ‘I can see their long hair.’
The girls could have been anywhere between six and ten years old, and they were moving away from the house, hand in hand, not exactly running, but not walking slowly. One of them looked back over her shoulder, and put up a hand. The gesture was so indistinct it could have been anything. But it could have been a gesture of farewell. Michael drew in a sharp breath, then sketched a similar gesture.
Behind them, the fire engine revved, its lights swung round, and the figures vanished.
‘We did see that, didn’t we?’ said Nell, sounding slightly shaken.
‘Yes.’
‘They weren’t … real children, were they?’
‘No.’
‘Who were they?’
‘I could make a guess, but it’ll be easier to tell you after you’ve read Maria’s journal,’ said Michael.
The fire engine was trundling down the drive, towards the main road, and as they went over to their cars, he said, ‘Nell – about that journal I found. How would you feel about having the professor in on it? He started all this, so I think he’d like to know what we’ve found.’
‘I’d like that. D’you think he’d be free to come to supper?’ said Nell. ‘But it’s half-past eight already, so it’ll have to be takeaway.’
‘Bless you,’ said Michael, smiling. ‘I’ll phone him now.’
Leo, listening to Michael’s brief explanation, expressed himself as horrified to hear about the fire. Invited to Quire Court, he said he had not dined yet – he had been working on his Radcliffe lecture, and he had not noticed the time.
‘But after what’s happened tonight I don’t want to cause Nell any trouble—’
‘She’d like you to come. And,’ said Michael, ‘we’re picking up supper on the way home so it won’t be any trouble at all. Can you meet us at Quire Court in about an hour?’
‘Yes, certainly.’
‘And can you eat Chinese food?’
‘I can indeed,’ said Leo.
TWENTY-FOUR
They opted for Cantonese food in the end, and reached Quire Court laden with foil cartons. Leo arrived ten minutes later, bearing two bottles of wine – a Chablis and a good claret. There was also a bottle of some bright pink concoction which the professor had spotted in the wine shop and which he thought Beth might like.
‘I love pink concoctions,’ said Beth, who was being allowed an extra half hour before going off to bed, and who had no idea what the bottle contained. ‘Thank you very much.’
‘Don’t spill any of it on Michael’s notes,’ said Nell.
But the Cantonese restaurant, with its customary attention to customers’ comfort, had provided small, moist, sweet-scented paper napkins, which they shared out.
‘It’s beautifully hygienic,’ said Michael. ‘Pass me the crispy duck, Beth. We’re going to provide Professor Rosendale with some information after you’ve gone to bed, so we’re going to stoke up with food now. Then we’ll tell him the tale, and we’ll begin at the beginning—’
‘And go on until you reach the end, then stop,’ chanted Beth, delightedly.
‘What an intelligent daughter you have,’ said Leo, smiling at Nell. ‘I didn’t think anyone read Alice in Wonderland any longer.’
‘Beth practically knows it by heart.’
‘We’ll have a competition on it one day, Beth, but I’ll have to reread it beforehand, so I can keep up with you. Are there any more chicken wings? Let’s divide them up, shall we?’
It was not until Beth, who Nell could see was entranced by Professor Rosendale, had been scooted up to bed, and Michael had refilled the wine glasses, that he commenced the story of Maria Porringer.
He had made some notes while they were eating, and he now gave Nell and Leo a précis of the journal.