I drew up outside Lesley’s house, this time in full view of her windows. I felt oddly serene, as if I were a room and somebody had cleaned me out and thrown away the clutter. Perhaps a prisoner feels like this, when he’s finally been caught and is going up to trial. All the muddle is over; now he is in other people’s hands and there is nothing else he can do.

I switched off the engine and remembered that day at the seaside years before, when I’d fallen in love with my wife. Nothing could take that away from me; she was powerless to spoil it. I’d realized that, today. This afternoon I’d played football on the beach; I’d had my son to myself, for one hour. None of Lesley’s shouting could rub that out.

They were in the kitchen. Hilda was drinking a cup of tea and Lesley was drinking a glass of port. The little girl was in the other room watching TV.

Lesley said: ‘I went to the school. I thought you’d abduct him.’

I shook my head. ‘But they said he’d gone to games as usual,’ she said.

‘I could have stolen him,’ I said. ‘It’s taken me a week to find you and you weren’t even trying to hide. Think how far I could get, if I put my mind to it.’

‘What’s this sand?’ asked Hilda. She brushed down my anorak, making little clicking noises with her tongue. I took it off and she carried it to the back door and shook it out. ‘Silly billy,’ she said. Outside, through the garden trees, the sky was pink.

‘Tea or this?’ asked Lesley.

‘This,’ I replied, and she poured me a glass of port. ‘You can trust me,’ I said. ‘Honest.’

‘Can I?’

I nodded. ‘I come with a written guarantee.’

‘But can you make waffles?’ asked Hilda.

‘I find it hard to trust people anymore,’ said Lesley, lighting a cigarette.

‘I’ve been through a bit too,’ I said. ‘We’re in the same boat by now.’

She looked doubtful, and gazed down at her stubby fingers.

‘We’ve been having a nice chat about old times,’ said Hilda. She turned to Lesley. ‘Remember when we tried to make that zabaglione?’

Lesley smiled, slightly.

Hilda turned to me. ‘I’ve tried to explain things to her.’

‘Thank you,’ I said.

There was a silence. Lesley refilled my glass.

‘What about the shop?’ I asked.

‘I closed it early.’

From the other room came a jabbering cartoon voice, like a record speeded up, and then the Popeye tune. After all these years, children were still watching Popeye. Hilda went off to give the little girl her tea.

I didn’t know where to begin.

‘Why did you leave Reading?’ I asked.

‘You really want to know?’

‘I don’t know anything,’ I said. ‘Anything’ll do.’