After I had checked that Curzon was properly positioned and all the machines and lights were switched off, I hoisted Cassie into my arms again, locked up and followed Penny up the path to the back door of the house.

The ground-floor rooms interconnected and together they functioned as kitchen, living area and bindery office. There were books everywhere, and newspapers, heaped up on battered but good-looking furniture. Penny’s rooms had always looked the same, in whichever of her houses, but since Evelyn’s arrival there had been some changes. She had feng shui’d the place as soon as she moved in, shifting the position of the table, lining up chairs and introducing frondy plants and scented candles. It was funny to see her Hello! magazines alongside Penny’s London Review of Books.

Penny was sitting at the computer making up invoices. This was usually my job.

‘I’ll do those tomorrow.’

I put Cassie down and she immediately ran away and hid. ‘Sade, will you tell me why you’re rejecting all offers of help and sympathy?’

I played for time. ‘Am I?’

I felt fraudulent, that was why. I had hardly cried yet for Ted and I couldn’t map even the outlines of what his loss meant to me. What could I look for from my friends, when I couldn’t locate my own grief? All I felt was numb, and exhausted to realise that my relationship with my father wasn’t going to end with the mere fact of his death. It was going to go on and on, for ever, the old disabling argument between love and bitterness.

Penny sighed. ‘Never mind,’ she said gently.

‘Shall I put her into bed?’ I asked.

‘Yeah. Tell her I’ll come up in a minute.’

I found Cassie behind the sofa, her usual hiding place. She let me carry her upstairs to her bedroom, on the second floor next to Penny’s and Evelyn’s. It was at the back of the house, and looked out over the bindery and the gaunt ribs of the gasometers. I drew the curtains, dark-blue ones with gold stars, and turned on the man-in-the-moon nightlight.

‘Time to go to sleep now.’

‘Lie down too.’

I slid under the duvet with her. She put her thumb in her mouth and began winding one of her curls round her forefinger. Lying there with my arms round her and her breath on my face, I felt some of the sadness melt away.

Downstairs again Penny was standing looking out of the window at the little backyard. Evelyn had put some tubs out there and there had been a spring display of daffodils.

‘She wants you to say goodnight. She’s nearly asleep.’

‘Do you want to stay and have a glass of wine?’

My own children would be waiting for me at home. ‘Thanks. Not tonight.’

‘See you tomorrow, then.’