I wandered through the rooms, hands in my pockets. The decor was simpler than Mahalbeth, and the rooms smaller. Freddie’s bedroom had a full-length mirror by the window, a wrought-iron bed, a small bedside table and a row of in-built slatted cupboards along the far wall; I opened all the doors, looking in at his freshly pressed suits and the polished shoes lined up neatly below – one pair of shoes for each suit. Ten silk ties hung in the last cupboard. I pulled one out slowly, enjoying the cool feel of the material against my fingers, then stood in front of the mirror and knotted the tie carefully around my neck. The blue suited me, I thought. Maybe if I could help Freddie with work, he’d need me to move in with him. I pictured myself living in the bungalow with him, sharing some of his clothes – not all of them, his jackets would be too wide in the shoulders for me.

I sat on his bed, noting how firm the mattress was. If I lived with Freddie, maybe Sylvie would spend more time around the corner at her cottage here, maybe the black dog would finally leave her. It must be difficult for her to grow old, I thought. She was so beautiful that that was all people could see at first. She’d never be sure if people really liked her beyond her looks, until eventually they were gone.

All her flirting and her changes of mind weren’t some sort of tease, but a test, I suddenly thought. If I passed, there was the promise that we’d work it out somehow, and it’d be all the sweeter for the wait. I grew hard thinking about it, and my fingers snaked up to the tie, playing with it, tightening it. I’d noticed that with the satisfaction I was getting at work, I’d found a new confidence, and now I knew what I could do with it. I could see the three of us dining together, playing cards, bathing together. I would be the one in charge; Freddie and Sylvie would look to me for pleasure, for help. Not just with work, but in private. Imagining it brought on a sudden uncontrollable warmth that ran downwards through my body, and just as suddenly a jolt of panic when I realised Freddie would be wondering where I’d got to. I jumped up and straightened the bedsheet, hiding all trace that I’d been there. I stuffed the tie into my pocket, left the house by the back door and joined Freddie at the bar. For the rest of the evening, I could feel it rubbing softly against my upper thigh.

The April elections arrived, and Freddie won comfortably. Edie met me coming out of the post office, carrying the paper with the results, and grinned.

‘Page four. And guess the headline.’

‘Prospect of war?’