What he needed to do was to write to them all, as a family. That was it. Not separate letters, one to Georgie, one to Cass and one to Nick and Celia, but just a single letter. This way, the girls would tell their mum that they wanted him to come back, because they’d all read the letter together. He pictured them in the kitchen, Georgie reading out loud. He’d keep it really straightforward: he’d fucked up by attempting to drive back from the party, he should’ve made them all sit it out longer, drink some more tea, maybe have a bite of something to eat to help them sober up. But it wasn’t his fault that someone had spiked the drink and the accident wasn’t his fault either, he knew that now. It was just that: an accident. He wasn’t to blame. Having said that, he was really, really sorry that the girls had been injured, but also he was thankful that their injuries hadn’t been more serious. He missed them, he couldn’t wait to get back to them. He appreciated that they needed some time as a family, so he was going to suggest that he come back in a week or two, in good time to help with the apple-picking. And once he’d written to the Clarkes, he’d take the opportunity to send a note to Helena, too.

Now that he had a plan, Stephen was calm. He felt the agitation melting away. He sat under the trees for a little while, then got to his feet. There was a branch of W. H. Smith on the Earls Court Road, just around the corner from the hostel: time to get back there, get himself kitted out with notepaper and a biro. He could get some airmail paper, while he was about it, to write home. He’d never answered his sisters’ letters, he realized. He felt ashamed, to picture their expectant little faces, waiting for the post.

There was a communal room at the hostel, with a couple of tables where people could eat, as well as some soft seating. Stephen installed himself at one of the tables and set about his task. Within an hour he’d composed his letters and addressed the envelopes. Feeling he was taking control of his situation gave him a boost of energy. There was a launderette down the road: he’d take his things in for a wash, get a load of laundry on, then nip to the post office.