‘Miss Amalia! Miss Amalia!’ she called up the stairs. ‘You have a visitor, Miss Amalia.’

‘Who is it?’ asked Amalia Janssen, appearing on the landing.

‘Captain Rawson.’

‘That’s wonderful! I’ll come at once.’

‘I’ll let him in,’ said Beatrix, determined not to be robbed of the pleasure. ‘I saw him first.’

While Amalia descended the stairs, the servant rushed to fling open the door at the very moment when Daniel was about to ring the bell. Beatrix beamed at him and ignored the cold blast of air coming in from the street. After exchanging a few pleasantries with her, Daniel stepped into the house and doffed his hat. While the door was being closed behind him, he gave Amalia a welcoming kiss then stood back to appraise her. Beatrix, meanwhile, was goggling at him.

‘That will be all, Beatrix,’ said Amalia, tolerantly. ‘I’m sure that you have plenty to do.’

‘Yes, yes,’ agreed the servant, taking Daniel’s hat from him and reluctantly backing away. ‘But it’s so good to see the captain again. I must tell your father.’

‘Don’t disturb him just yet.’

‘But he’ll want to know.’

‘Father can wait ten minutes.’

Amalia wanted some time alone with Daniel first. He wiped his feet on the doormat so that his boots would leave no marks on the spotless tiles of the voorhuis then he followed her into the parlour. It was a large, low room with exquisite tapestries woven by Emanuel Janssen on three walls. A fire blazed in the grate. Away from the watchful eyes of the servant, they were able to embrace each other properly before sitting down side by side.

‘I was beginning to forget what you looked like,’ teased Amalia.

‘That’s a problem I’ve never had,’ he said, feasting his gaze on her. ‘I can always remember exactly what you look like. I’m just sorry that we’ve been apart so long this time.’