Liv was walking short distances in the street now without screaming or shivering or passing out. But at this point she seemed to have called a halt. It was plain she didn’t want to go home or, come to that, go anywhere. She was a bit like Alison in that respect. Both of them felt safe where they were and very unsafe elsewhere. Before we came along, Alison was presumably waiting for the unlikely event of the social services relenting. Liv was waiting to see what Wim would do. That he would do anything requiring a positive decision on his part, anything in the nature of setting up house with Liv, was even more improbable than Alison’s local authority letting her keep Jason. But Liv hoped. And meanwhile she was staying put.

We found her in the living room, lying on the sofa asleep. The windows were shut. It had been a chilly day in comparison with the weather we had had in August. Wim usually had to tap on the glass when he came unless Liv had opened one of the windows for him, something she often did far too early in the evening, making the rest of us shiver. Jonny, first making a face of disgust at the sight of her lying there on her back, her mouth open, her skirt rucked up around her thighs, stamped his feet and let out a yell that made us jump.

“Wake up, you lazy cow!”

She shot upright. She blinked at the light and, when she saw Jonny, screamed. She rolled over onto her front, hiding her face in the sofa cushions. He spoke to her fairly gently for him.

“Come on, girl, there’s nothing to be scared of. It’s only Jonny, it’s only your old Jonny, right?” He resorted to nursery rhyme. “Only old Jonny who never did you any harm but killed the mice on your father’s farm.”

A sentiment hardly likely to appeal to Liv. But she sat up and asked him what he wanted. Silver went into the kitchen to make tea but Jonny said we should have a drink, let’s open one of his bottles. Liv was never averse to alcohol, though she was drinking a lot less than she must have done while with the Hindes. Silver had wineglasses but Jonny never used them. They were too small for his taste and it was four tumblers he filled with his Portuguese green wine.

“I’ve come to take you back with me, my love,” he said.

“I am not going. I am telling you over and over I am not going. I go home to Sweden.”