We had agreed she would not come with me to Greenwich unless I called.

I had not wanted to arrive with an army of my own, because arriving with an army would have told my mother that I was afraid, and my mother fed on fear the way some people feed on applause.

So I had walked in alone, and let them believe the room was theirs, and set the small signal — one text, sent from my pocket while my mother was mid-sentence — that brought Bettina up the drive.

It is a particular kind of quiet, the quiet in a room full of people who have just realized the balance of information has shifted and they are on the wrong side of it.