‘She even tries to sound Indian.’

Jake looked at the ceiling, exasperated. ‘The whole thing, yes.’

Anna sat back in the chair, legs stretched out. Her head was beginning to ache.

‘You all right?’

‘Just tired. I don’t think I can think about this any more tonight.’

‘But you will see Krish?’

She hesitated. ‘OK.’

‘We could take him out somewhere. Get him away from there.’

‘She won’t want him going with me.’

‘I’ll think of something.’

Anna groaned. ‘It’s so late. I’m sorry. I must go.’

‘Don’t,’ Jake said. ‘There’s no need and there’s not that much of the night left – it’s after three. Just sleep here. I’ve got a folding bed I use for Elly. I’ll have that.’

She looked at him doubtfully, wondering for a few seconds what this meant. The thought of driving back now was so dismal. ‘Are you sure?’

Eyes full of warmth, he said, ‘Of course. No problem at all.’

‘My stuff’s down in the car . . .’

‘Give me the key. I’ll get it.’

When he came back, Jake tactfully left to give her time to undress in this strange room, his pictures watching her from the wall. But she felt trusting, almost happy. By the time he came back she was already lying down.

He had changed into an old pair of shorts and a shirt. She looked at the firm lines of his legs, his arms. He pulled the folding bed open, settling it in line with her bed, tucking a sheet round its long mattress. She took in his slenderness compared with Richard’s compact body.

He looked at her across the space between the two beds. ‘Have a good sleep.’ And reached over and clicked the light off.

‘Jake,’ she said drowsily. ‘I wanted to ask you more about yourself. I’m sorry. I’ve been talking so much.’

‘That’s OK. There’s not an awful lot to say about me.’

‘I’m sure there is . . .’ She felt her voice trailing off, sleep slipping over her in thick layers.

It must have been only moments later, but felt much longer. It began with a light pressure on her head, a stroking, soft as cobwebs in her hair, but then it was hard and she was in the dream and there was the terrible pressure, pushing, pushing so she couldn’t move, and she felt her breath being forced out of her until she threw herself upright, whimpering like a tiny child, sweat breaking out under her arms and behind her knees.

‘Sorry,’ she heard Jake saying. ‘God, I’m so sorry. Anna – it’s OK. It’s only me. I’m sorry.’

There was a click and the room sprang up round them again in the light. She squinted, bewildered, into Jake’s face. He was sitting on the bed beside her, eyes wide with worry.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said again.

‘Why?’ She was dazed, couldn’t think straight. ‘I was dreaming. When I was little I sometimes used to dream I was being suffocated – pushed down and down. It’s come back again since – since Mom died.’ She remembered waking, as a child, out of the tight hold of the dream, gasping, with Kate’s arms round her and her voice, ‘It’s all right, you’re safe now. Quite safe with me.’