At last I had to tell Jack that it was time to go. He followed me reluctantly back inside the house and I showed Audrey the cigarette case and the other small possessions of Ted’s that I had brought with me. She looked each one over and put it back on the table. ‘I don’t want any of these. I’ve got plenty of memories.’

Stung, in spite of my determination not to be, I packed the things back into my bag. ‘That’s fine, then.’

‘Were there any photographs?’ she asked.

‘There was one of you. I should have brought it. You were sitting on a stone wall, it looked like a windy day.’

‘Yes. Well, you’ll be on your way, then?’

She accompanied us back through the dusty tunnel of the house and opened the front door. Bright, clean light streamed in.

‘Come and see me again,’ she said, but the command was issued to Jack, not me.

‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘I’ll bring your photo if you like.’ We had got to the gatepost when he suddenly wheeled and ran back to the door. ‘Wait. Wait a minute. You know at the funeral? You were wearing a fox fur, weren’t you? I remember its eyes and the way its tail hung down. You like foxes, don’t you, so didn’t you think that was cruel?’

Sometimes Jack was like a little old man and at others he seemed hardly any older than Cassie.

‘It was already dead when I got it, poor thing. I like to give it an outing now and again, particularly to funerals, so it can take a look at the world. Nothing wrong with that, is there?’

‘No,’ he agreed, apparently satisfied.

We walked home together. Audrey’s tea had left a film on my tongue and I wished I hadn’t drunk it. Whatever Audrey had meant to Ted, she made me feel uncomfortable.

‘I thought that was quite cool,’ was all Jack would say when I tried to press him.

Back in our house everything seemed clean and functional and cared-for, which was a plus at least. Then, over my shoulder, I caught sight of my rear view in the hallway mirror. My black T-shirt was a grey mat of cat hair.

Later, when Jack was in his room, I took the three volumes of Ted’s notes down from the shelf and browsed through the pages once again, looking for Audrey’s name. I couldn’t see it. There were plenty of other names, and the formulae that had promised desirability and passion and dreams to so many women. The clouds of fragrance seemed to rise out of the pages, nudging and beckoning me.

SEVEN

The days of early summer gently trickled away, like dry sand through my fingers.