I sat on the settee smoking a cigarette and listening to her speaking. She said that she was Lesley’s ex-flatmate and felt like looking her up again, for old times’ sake. Silence as she listened, the receiver to her ear. She met my eye and gave me a thumbs-up sign—how precious this dumpy woman was to me! She gestured for a pencil and paper, I gave it to her and she wrote down an address.

Then she said goodbye and replaced the receiver. ‘She’s living in Deal.’

‘Deal?’

‘Deal, Kent.’ She showed me the address: 14 Leaps Road, Deal, and a phone number.

‘She’s there now? You sure?’

Hilda nodded. ‘They’ve been visiting her this weekend. They’ve only just got home.’

I found the code and dialled the number.

Lesley answered. ‘Hello?’

I couldn’t speak.

‘Hello?’ said Lesley. She sounded sleepy. ‘Who’s there?’

My hand started trembling. I put the receiver down.

Hilda jabbed me in the ribs. ‘Cowardy custard!’

I decided to go that night. I shaved, and for some reason brushed my teeth. I had a long session on the toilet, as if my body needed to evacuate itself, in readiness. Hilda ran me a bath and I lay there, deep in foam, with my eyes closed. The warmth seeped into every pore of my skin.

When I was dry I dusted myself all over with her Johnson’s Baby Powder. The mirror was steamed up; I moved in a haze. Then I got dressed, carefully, buttoning my shirt to the neck.

I rubbed the mirror and, borrowing her scissors, cut some stray hairs out of my nostrils and ears. I felt like a virgin, preparing herself for her wedding. I felt I was going on a long voyage, very long, and I didn’t know when I would return.

In the lounge, I draped a towel round my shoulders and Hilda cut my hair.

‘Nobody’s done this since my wife,’ I said.

She knew a bit about Eleni but now I told her about my son. Snip-snip went her scissors as I told her the truth—if I knew what the truth was, by now. This past week had buffeted me in so many directions. But I told her about Lesley, and what had happened eleven years before, and how I had been searching all over England for Edward.

She didn’t seem surprised. She tilted my head sideways, frowning with concentration, and snipped round my ears.

‘Gosh,’ she said, ‘you’ve got freckles here too.’ Then she added: ‘Little business matter, my foot.’ She chuckled. ‘You’ve been talking about that boy for two solid days.’

I paused. ‘Do I sound a cad?’ I asked.

She stopped snipping. ‘No,’ she said. ‘You sound—ever so lonely.’

She was coming with me. I couldn’t decide if I was pleased or not. What about her job? Tomorrow was Monday—in fact it was nearly Monday now.