‘This time of day,’ she said, setting the glass chimney over the wick, replacing the white floral globe, ‘this time of day I always call “l’heure verte”. The green hour. It’s a kind of sad time. I don’t honestly know why. Here, in France, it’s called “Between the dog and the wolf”.’

‘I thought that was known as “l’heure bleue”?’

‘It’s verte, in my vocabulary.’ She carried the taper across to a lamp by the windows, for a moment shadows danced against the white walls, then were steady. ‘Sometimes, in New England, it’s called “taper time”. But, frankly I don’t know. I stay with “verte”. I feel a sadness. The Jack Daniels helps. I do have, in case you are wondering, electricity. But I prefer lamplight. I admit it’s a bore to trim wicks and polish chimneys and get the kerosene but, and this is important, it is a very kind light for ageing faces like mine.’ She sat in a large, stuffed chair covered in black and white ticking amidst a swaddle of cushions, her glass in one strong-fingered hand.

‘You have your wind back, I think?’ she said.

‘I do. Thank you. I really did need a stiff drink. God knows why. I mean, well … I don’t know what I expected up there. I mean, nothing: “Just drop by for a drink at six-thirty.” Easy. But I really wasn’t prepared for the scenario, so to speak. I found the show a little surprising.’

She grinned, sipping her drink. ‘As well you might.’

‘I suppose that, really and truly, I lead, or have led, a very sheltered life. Mummy and Daddy and two little children and a typewriter.’

‘With which you write your books. You do write? I mean, you aren’t into meditation or weaving, throwing pots or running a sanctuary for stray members of the clergy? I mean, you have been about? Seen the world?’

‘Been round it. Been about. And I don’t think that suddenly discovering your baby brother is “gay” – that godawful word they have stolen – is that big a deal. Lots of little boys have funny brothers.’

‘Sure. And sisters; leave us not forget.’

‘And sisters. But, well, it is like, you know, like murder, plane crashes, train crashes, ships sinking. Happens to other people. Not you.’

‘A limited vision, William. You just walked into a new experience. Nothing as catastrophic as a plane crash or a sinking ship. Or a murder.’

‘No. Indeed. But it was just, well, not what I expected, although I don’t know what I expected. But not that ugly house, the elevator, the jogging or … anything. It was a little surprising, that’s all.’

Martha rattled the ice cubes in her drink, a moth zoomed around the lamp at the door, battered at the glass globe, fell to the floor. ‘People live differently. That’s all.’