‘Thank you,’ Sylvie said. She selected a cigarette and put it to her lips, not looking at me or Freddie. Gerry pulled to a stop, then came around and opened Sylvie’s door first. She climbed out and walked straight towards the front door. I watched her hips swinging from side to side underneath her grey pencil skirt and felt my excitement returning.

‘I didn’t think you had the guts,’ Freddie said, clapping me on the back.

‘You have to stop thinking of me as a boy.’

He started to say something, but I held up my hand to speak first. I wanted him to acknowledge that I was an equal now; something had changed between me and Sylvie, and it was my turn to make her happy. I met his eye.

‘Freddie, stop dawdling,’ Martha said. ‘I’m getting cold.’

I drove out to The Farm the first chance I had. Sylvie was reading when I arrived at midday, still in her pyjamas and even more appealing than usual.

‘Hello, Theo,’ she said, putting down her book. ‘I thought you might come.’

‘You look ravishing,’ I said, kissing her on the cheek.

‘And you look like a ravisher,’ she said. ‘Join me for a drink?’

‘Starting the year with a bang?’

‘Start as you mean to go on,’ she said, and crossed over to the sideboard.

A breeze arrived from the mountains, smelling of pine needles. It ruffled her pyjamas and woke up Minnie, who’d been snoozing under the table. She barked twice.

‘What have I told you, silly girl?’ Sylvie said. ‘Some things you can’t scare away.’

I picked up the dachshund and she licked my face. ‘How would you feel about going to the coast for the weekend?’ I asked and she barked again.

Sylvie returned with two full tumblers and placed them on the table. Minnie jumped off my lap and disappeared inside.

‘What shall we drink to?’ I asked.

She sat down again and took a deep breath. ‘I’ve got bad news, darling.’

‘What’s wrong?’

‘I had a letter from Genevieve this morning.’

‘Nicolas’s wife?’

‘He died on Christmas Eve.’

I felt the smile on my face stretch further. ‘That’s a bit of a ghoulish joke.’

She covered her face with her hands and started crying quietly, shoulders shaking. I wanted to reach out to her, but my arms wouldn’t move. ‘It’s not possible.’

‘Look.’ She stood up then sat down again. ‘No, I burnt it.’

I crossed the chasm between my mind and my limbs and took her hands in mine; they felt as if they belonged to two other people, strangers. ‘How did it happen?’

‘A septic infection, or meningitis. Or both. I didn’t take it in properly.’ She shuddered. ‘He must have suffered.’

‘Don’t think about that.’

‘I can’t stop.’

‘You couldn’t have done anything about it.’