He was perceptive. I did want to be on my own for a while. I nodded, then I leaned across and kissed him on the mouth. I thought how natural and logical a kiss seemed. ‘Good night. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

I wandered through the quiet house. Occasional flickers of lightning whitened the sky and the bass mumble of thunder answered the drone of a circling helicopter. I turned on the television news and clicked it off again. There was a small sheaf of post waiting for me on the kitchen table – Lola must have put it there. I opened the first envelope and saw that the estate agents who were handling the sale of Ted’s house were confirming an offer at the asking price. The purchasers were in a hurry and wanted an early completion. I would have to sell the last few pieces of his furniture as soon as possible and dispose of the remainder of his belongings.

Ted’s volumes of notes stood in their place on the bookshelf, and I took one down and turned the pages. Lavender, verbena, bergamot, sandalwood. The perfume formulae kept their secrets from me, locked within Ted’s scribbled lines, as complicated and remote now as the long-ago seductions they had been designed to promote. I didn’t care. I had my own memories of him and of past times. Good times and bad times, sometimes so closely intertwined that I couldn’t separate them. The flavour of Madame Lesert’s bread and the scent of jasmine. Vinegary winkles, salt sea air, Viv’s Vivienne scent and Ted’s cologne. Objects, things, even houses and places didn’t matter. They changed past the point of recognition, or they broke, or else they were scattered and sold. For me it was smells and tastes that endured, tiny droplets of life’s essence containing and supporting the whole labyrinth of memory.

In this, I was my father’s daughter.

I closed the book and gently replaced it beside its companions. ‘Goodnight,’ I said, aloud. It was Ted I was speaking to and I felt the closeness of our connection, for once without wishing for anything to be different or better.

The phone’s sudden ringing makes me jump. I can almost feel the sound waves stirring the humid air. ‘Hello?’

‘Sadie? Is that you?’

‘Who else would it be?’

‘I dunno,’ Mel says.

‘Your voice is a bit strange.’

‘I’m fine.’

And I truly am, I realise.

‘I’ve got some news. I want you to be the first to hear.’ Mel’s voice is so tight with happiness it’s like the skin of a ripe peach, ready to split and spill its juice.

‘What is it?’ I ask, although I already know.

‘Jasper has asked me to marry him.’