The evening was cool and very dark. I could see the lights on either side of the path and, almost lost in the shadows, the solid bulk of the building at the end. What had le Mesurier called it? The Snuggery. There was no sign of Hawthorne, but glancing to one side I noticed a solitary figure sitting on a wooden bench and realised it was Elizabeth Lovell. She was on her own, some distance away, lighting a cigarette, which somehow surprised me. There was no reason why a woman who was blind and psychic shouldn’t be allowed a cigarette, but somehow it felt at odds with her public persona. Her husband wasn’t with her and I was glad to be able to slip back inside without being seen.

Hawthorne had left without me. Suddenly, I was glad that this time tomorrow I would be home again. I was missing my wife. There was absolutely no reason for me to be here. An open door led back into the kitchen and from there I continued into the hall, where a pile of books had been set up on a table: Lovely Grub by Marc Bellamy. His photograph, in which he was cradling a mixing bowl with a ladle, was on the cover. It was on sale for £20.

I picked up a copy and opened it at random. I found myself looking at a recipe for chicken cordon bleu, a dish that had revolted me even when I ate it back in the seventies. The ingredients – oil, butter, cheese, cream, breadcrumbs – felt like signposts on the way to a heart attack. I snapped it shut just as Maïssa Lamar appeared, coming downstairs. I don’t know which of the two of us was more surprised. I got the sense that she had hoped not to be seen.

She came over to the table. I handed her the book. ‘Cookery,’ I said.

‘I’m sorry?’

‘C’est un livre de cuisine.’

‘You speak French?’

‘Un petit peu.’

If I’d been trying to impress her, it hadn’t worked. She tried to push the book back into my hands, but I wanted to keep her talking. ‘I enjoyed your performance this morning,’ I said.

‘Thank you.’

‘And I met your friend.’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘Fair hair. Moustache. He was at the airport.’

She looked at me blankly. ‘I’m sorry. I have no friend.’ Abruptly, she dropped the book onto the table and went into the living room.