They pulled into the jetty and went ashore. Trehern begged Jenny to visit her late pupil at the cottage and wished them an unctuous good night.

Jenny looked about her. Within the sphere of light cast by the wharf lamp, appeared a shop-window which had been injected into an existing cottage front. It was crowded with small indistinguishable objects. ‘Yes,’ Patrick said. ‘That’s Miss Cost. Don’t dwell on it.’

It was not until they had climbed the steps, which had been widened and re-graded and came face-to-face with The Boy-and-Lobster that the full extent of the alterations could be seen. The old pub had been smartened but not altered. At either end of it, however, there now projected large two-storied wings which completely dwarfed the original structure. There was a new and important entrance and a ‘lounge’ into which undrawn curtains admitted a view of quite an assemblage of guests, some reading, others playing cards or writing letters. In the background was a ping-pong table and beyond that, a bar.

Patrick said, ‘There you have it.’

They were about to turn away when someone came out of the main entrance and moved uncertainly towards them. He was dressed in a sort of Victorian smock over long trousers and there was a jellybag cap on his head. He had grown much taller. Jenny didn’t recognize him at first but as he shambled into a patch of light she saw his face.

‘Costume,’ Patrick said, ‘by Maison Cost.’

‘Wally!’ she cried. ‘It’s Wally.’

He gave her a sly look and knuckled his forehead. ‘ ‘Evening, ‘evening,’ he said. His voice was still unbroken. He held out his hands. ‘I’m Wally,’ he said. ‘Look. All gone.’

‘Wally, do you remember me? Miss Williams? Do you?’

His mouth widened in a grin. ‘No,’ he said.

‘Your teacher.’

‘One lady gave me five bob, she done. One lady done.’

‘You mustn’t ask for tips,’ Patrick said.

Wally laughed. ‘I never,’ he said and looked at Jenny. ‘You come and see me. At Wally’s place.’

‘Are you at school, still?’

‘At school. I’m in the fustivell.’ He showed her his hands again, gave one of his old squawks and suddenly ran off.

‘Never mind,’ Patrick said. ‘Come along. Never mind, Jenny.’

He took her in by the old door, now marked Private, and here everything was familiar. ‘The visitors don’t use this,’ he said. ‘There’s an office and reception desk in the new building. You’re en famille, Jenny. We’ve put you in my room. I hope you don’t mind.’

‘But what about you?’

‘I’m all right. There’s an emergency bolt-hole.’

‘Jenny!’ said Mrs Barrimore, coming into the little hall. ‘How lovely!’

She was much more smartly dressed than she used to be and looked, Jenny thought, very beautiful. They kissed warmly. ‘I’m so glad,’ Mrs Barrimore said. ‘I’m so very glad.’