‘There’s some more plastic bags on the sink,’ Seymour said. ‘You could pack the rest of the things in those.’ He went to fetch them, battling to keep all expression from his face and to empty his mind of any feeling. He’d had plenty of experience with saying goodbye to people and places before, he reminded himself. You didn’t let yourself become too involved, that was the secret. Angie was just a person he’d met by chance during this particular holiday break, and in a couple of months he’d probably forget all about her, wouldn’t even be able to remember the outline of her face or how her voice had sounded. A troubled person, someone it was best to forget, anyway. It was pointless to be hanging around here where he obviously wasn’t wanted. Futile to watch Lynne handle all those possessions so unkindly, stuffing them away out of sight as though she found each one repugnant.

‘I guess I’d better be going,’ he said woodenly and moved to the door.

‘Hang on a minute…if you really want to help, you could clear out the things from the kitchen cupboard,’ Lynne said, and her voice was less sharp, as though she regretted biting his head off like that and was ashamed of it. Seymour hesitated, then turned back and silently began to remove everything from the shelves and stack them on the sink. There weren’t many items—a few mismatched plates, the wobbly saucepan, a chipped teapot. ‘They’re not really worthwhile keeping,’ Lynne said. ‘I don’t suppose the next person who moves in here would want them. The whole lot could go out in the rubbish bin.’

‘This, too? This looks too good to throw out,’ Seymour said, finding a small cup and saucer of fine china right at the back. He wiped them clean with a cloth and they shone with resurrected bright colour, waterlilies and dragonflies emerging vividly from a layer of dust. They looked unused, as though Angie had perhaps valued them too much to risk in everyday use. He carried them carefully over to the bed. ‘Funny Angie having something like this, all in one piece,’ he said. ‘She was always breaking things. She told me that’s why she bought cheap stuff at op shops for the kitchen, so it wouldn’t matter much if…what’s the matter?’

He stared in astonishment, finding it hard to believe that Lynne’s self-contained face could so suddenly be flooded with emotion. She took the cup and saucer from his hands and turned them about gently, tracing the bright patterns, obviously fumbling towards some almost forgotten memory.

‘Fancy Angie keeping…The shop near the school, that’s where I bought it…’

‘Did you give it to her?’