Mike Dixon

A
Rolls Royce was standing in the driveway of the
Paget residence when Kirstin got back to Canberra.
She was reminded of visits to the house thirty years
earlier when Cecilia‟s mother was still alive. The vehicle
and the uniformed chauffeur were like apparitions from
the past.
She parked her small car behind the Rolls and asked if
it would be in the way. The elderly chauffeur looked up
from a racing guide and said that Sir George and Lady Pa-
get would not be going out again that day.
She went to the porch and reached for the bell. Before
she could ring it the door flew open and she was confronted
by Cecilia‟s anxious face.
„Kirstin! I thought it might be you.‟
„I‟ve brought back some of the photographs you kindly
lent me.‟
You needn‟t have but do come in.‟
Cecilia moved to one side and Kirstin entered the hallway.
Her eyes settled on a family picture on a small table
beneath a hat stand. She had seen it before and was determined
to have it. Cecilia pushed past.
„Daddy and Aunt Grace are upstairs. They do feel the
cold. I must go up and turn on the heating.‟
Aunt Grace?
Kirstin pondered the term as Cecilia‟s footsteps reced-
ed. The Pagets certainly had a casual approach to family
names. From a legal point of view Grace was Cecilia‟s sister-in-law.
From the de facto point of view she was her
stepmother. From the Paget point of view she was Aunt
Grace.
It was typical of George Paget and the world of espionage
that had occupied so much of his life. Kirstin remem-
bered something he‟d once said to her. It was shortly after