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abandoned children, but she aroused suspicions when she mentioned a certain name as an example of the work the Mission itself had undertaken in that regard. It is our good fortune that it was Sister Agnes herself who met with this visitor, and needless to say she divulged nothing beyond general statements about past activities, the paucity of records and archives and so on. An invitation to tour the orphanage itself was declined, despite the alleged interest in that area, and the visitor left scarcely better informed than when she’d arrived.
    That night, however, there was a break-in at the Mission, the first ever. Malawi isn’t what it was when you were here, but it is still safe enough and a crime against the Mission rare indeed, so it seems unlikely to have been a coincidence, especially as it was the archive store that was targeted and vandalised. The whole room was turned over, with papers from files strewn everywhere and paint and bleach poured over everything too, destroying many of the records, or at least leaving them all but illegible. The clearing up and re-filing is proving to be a slow and challenging process and it’s difficult to tell yet precisely what’s missing, but the papers we are concerned about have not been recovered, at least to date. I fear we must assume they will not be. Sister Agnes clearly blames herself, for keeping them in the first place, but it was what they always did and she was not in a position to break with procedure at the time. I tried to make her see that none of this is her fault, but she seems determined to wear sackcloth and ashes – metaphorically, not literally, we must hope.
    Sister Agnes gave me a description of the visitor, but she was cautious as to its accuracy. Not much gets past our friend and she said she was sure the woman was disguised. Most likely wearing a wig, so probably not blonde at all, as she appeared to be, nor German, as the German the woman spoke before they settled on English was, even by Sister Agnes’ schoolgirl standards, old-fashioned and stilted, so whatever else she may be, Sister is sure she isn’t a native German speaker. The visitor’s English, on the other hand, was almost without accent and remarkably colloquial. Beyond that, she was youngish and of average height and build, although loose clothing and heeled shoes could be masking the reality there too, and she had blue eyes. Very blue eyes. Probably tinted lenses, our Sherlock of a Sister suspects. She looked quite suntanned, apparently, as if she’d been in the country a while, but the good Sister again commented that the backs of the woman’s hands were paler than her face, so she surmised make-up or fake tan.
    In short, the visitor had come disguised and that in itself is enough cause for alarm. But Ursula, perhaps we need to take the initiative here. This is all ancient history and it may be that it’s time to bring it out into the open. I don’t say that lightly, but times have changed. I understand it would be difficult, that it would stir up painful memories for you, for Gran too, come to that. But surely the lives you both have led are testament to your goodness? You only did what you did because you truly thought it was for the best and no one will blame you for that. I can’t see that there’s any need to keep these secrets any longer. What would once have been an unimaginable scandal, something that could ruin a career, destroy a business, would be no more than a five-minute wonder now. A headline in one day’s paper and forgotten the next. Think about it, Ursula. It may be best for everyone in the long run. Perhaps it’s time that the injustices of the past were properly and fairly resolved, or at least some gesture made towards their resolution. No one has to do or be anything they don’t want to, after all, but I do feel everyone has the right to be given the choice. And remember, Ursula, there’s no potential for blackmail if there are no secrets.
    But know that