‘I’ve felt luckier.’ I winced again as I shifted my weight on to my right elbow. He removed the extra pillows from behind my back so I could lie flat on the mattress.

‘I’m sorry I’ve nothing else for the pain,’ Doc said. ‘Used up all the local I had left on myself last week. Riding accident. Too much wire in the hedges.’ Too much whiskey in the saddle, more like. He patted his thigh. ‘I should have been off shooting for a week by now. Bloody old, that’s my problem. But you’ll be in good hands with Paddy here.’ He poured a large slug of the amber liquid into my empty glass and refilled his own. ‘Knowing you, I doubt you’ll be staying for breakfast. I’ll leave fresh dressings by the letter rack on the sideboard downstairs.’

Then, stooping next to me, Doc opened a drawer beneath the bedside table. Out of it he produced a Browning Hi-Power semi-automatic pistol. He placed it carefully next to the bloodied metal souvenir he’d just dug out of my shoulder.

‘That should help you sleep easy.’

I nodded my thanks and caught a whiff of the gun oil that made the blueing shine.

‘It’s loaded,’ he said. ‘Full clip. And the safety’s off. In case you need to go fishing again.’

He limped his way carefully across the Persian rug – an ornate blue island that spread out under the bed – and pulled the attic door open.

‘Doc?’ He stopped and looked at me from the other side of the room. He knew what I wanted to ask but let me find the courage to say it for myself. Three years had passed since I had last spoken his daughter’s name. I still struggled to, even then. ‘How is she?’

‘Rachel?’ he helped me out. ‘She’s in London now and happy.’

‘Má fheiceann tú í …’ I stumbled on in Irish. But it was no easier to find the words.

‘If I see her, what exactly? Hmm? I’ll be sure to say nothing to her. Nothing at all. You wanted to vanish, remember? And so you did. Whereabouts unknown. Presumed dead. And as much as he’d like to, not even this doctor can bring you back.’

He raised his glass in a toast. ‘She’tamut.’ I shrugged. He smiled. ‘To death. One day I’ll teach you Hebrew.’

‘And I’ll teach you Russian.’

‘I’m assimilated,’ he said, and winked at me.

I nodded and smiled back. There was nothing more to say. And come morning I’d be gone. The door clicked shut behind him. I waited for his footsteps to fade on the stairs.