‘I dislike enormously anything which is “indirect”. So don’t bother.’

‘You knew James. My brother. You opened and closed the gates for him, you said.’

She raised a hand to the Dalmatian which had come lolloping round the side of the house. ‘You are supposed to be my guardian, idiot. You know, they used to run under the carriage, in pairs, in the old days? Very chic. Yes, I opened the gates for your brother. On occasion. Sometimes not. If I’m away someplace I call old Berthe to come in and help out. He has a hideous little villa down the road. Useful.’

‘The last time James was here, it was January.’

‘Am I supposed to remember January? It’s May already.’ She turned away and pulled a narrow wooden box towards her; it was filled with plants. ‘Nemesia,’ she said suddenly. ‘Blue Gem. And behind them white Nicotiana. Do you like gardening?’

‘I wondered if you could remember that time?’

‘I have just stuck in twenty heliotrope. Royal Marine. Dark blue. It is supposed to smell of cherry pie. Did you know?’

‘James. January?’

‘It was a long time ago. Let it rest. I am not involved with your little brother, and I don’t want to be involved. I get this place rent-free, no one bothers me. I have had a very active life; now I want rest, peace and oblivion.’

‘So did he.’

She picked up a small plastic pot, pressed the soil with her finger. ‘Tough tit,’ she said. Then, ‘This is bone dry. They all are. Never buy anything in the market at Sainte-Brigitte, they’ll swindle you.’

‘Your brother told me there was a light snowfall that evening.’

‘You really hang on in there, don’t you? So? So what if there was a light, or slight, snowfall? Would I be out in it?’

‘To open the gate.’

‘He was on a bike. He could have opened it himself –’ She stopped abruptly. Set the pot and the plant aside.

‘He was on a bike. Correct. So you knew? I mean, you saw him?’

She sighed, dragged on her cigarette, blew a long feather of smoke into the warm air. ‘Okay. I saw him leave. Yes.’

‘Thank you. Really, I mean it. Thank you. Look, I didn’t want to get into this either. I didn’t want to get involved. I didn’t even like James, I hardly knew him. I have enough problems of my own. But I suddenly found myself getting caught up in things, in spite of myself. Things take on a force of their own. You kind of get led, if you know what I mean. You start to walk across the beach, so to speak, find that you are on quicksand and the more you struggle the deeper you sink.’

She was smiling at me. Not with me – at me. ‘What a metaphor!’ she said. ‘Clever old you. Neat. I’ve been there myself.’