A grey-haired old lady, dressed in pleated skirt, cardigan and Barbour, came out of the cottage next door, pulling a tartan shopping trolley. She closed the front door, pushed it with a blue-veined hand and glanced at the sky. I ground out my cigarette butt and looked back to Merboy’s window. I felt a tap on my shoulder.

‘John? Is it John?’ The old lady’s eyes were rheumy, sagging under the weight of years.

‘Yes, yes, it is.’

‘I thought it was. Do you remember me? Mrs Bennet? I lived next door to you and your mother.’ She pointed at her cottage.

I looked at her face, scored by wrinkles, her wispy hair blown in the breeze. I thought I could see someone else, someone younger. ‘Mrs Bennet?’

‘I knew it was you. Come here.’ She held open her arms and I stood up. She wrapped her skinny arms round my waist, her grey head resting on my chest, and hugged me. She looked up. ‘How are you, John? Can you understand me?’

‘Yes, I can lip-read.’

Her rheumy eyes filled with water, making them pale and insubstantial. ‘When we heard what happened we couldn’t believe it. Awful, just awful. I couldn’t believe it. And we never saw you again.’ She loosened her hold and stepped back, wiping her tears. ‘How do you cope with something like that?’

‘I don’t know,’ I said, and I meant it.

‘How’s your mother?’

I thought of my mother sitting on her deck drinking, as I knew she had ever since Ellen died. ‘She’s OK,’ I lied.

‘When George and I saw the photos of her — well, what can you say? I remember her being so pretty, so beautiful. And she was clever, too, if I remember righdy. Never could work out why she was alone. And then you both disappeared.’ She wiped her tears again. ‘Awful.’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you remember when you were a boy and your mother didn’t get home till late so you’d come in and have tea with us? With me and George?’

I did have a vague memory of sitting with a couple I thought of as old, although they must have been only fifty or so, eating ham sandwiches and homemade cakes or a pasty and salad in their tiny living room, waiting for my mother to come home.

Mrs Bennet smiled at me through her tears. ‘You always wanted to go swimming. I used to have to come and sit here,’ and she slapped the wall, ‘and watch you in case anything happened but it never did. You were like a little seal.’

‘Right.’

‘Now look at you - you’re so tall! You always said you wanted to be a sailor or a fisherman when you grew up. So what did you end up doing?’

This woman, I thought, knew Merboy. She was the only person I had ever met who knew him. ‘Did you like him?’ I asked stupidly.

‘Who?’ Mrs Bennet frowned. ‘Sorry, it’s my fault. I was wondering what you do now?’