Lucy said, doubtfully, ‘Are you sure?’
Agnes nodded with her eyelids.
‘Thanks.’
Lucy went into the kitchen and put the kettle on. A noise behind startled her. It was her father.
‘Anything wrong?’ she asked innocently
‘Lucy,’ he said gravely ‘I saw you on the news, in the back-ground, coming out of a court…
Lucy thrust both hands into her hair, disarranging the carefully placed grips and clips. Her father struggled to continue. ‘It’s to do with Gran, isn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ said Lucy not curtly or reluctantly but with mercy.
‘She knows that Nazi bastard, doesn’t she?’
‘Yes, Dad, she does.’
‘My God.’ He arranged his tie and rubbed an eyebrow, saying, ‘Will I ever know what happened?’
Without reflection but with something approaching passion, Lucy said, ‘Yes, you will, I promise, but it can’t be now’
‘All right.’ He spoke like a beggar on the street promised a sandwich instead of money. The reversal of power stung. She filled the pot with steaming water.