Her eyes brimmed with tears, she lowered her head, stuffed a fist to her mouth, and when she asked me please to leave, in the softest, sweetest voice, I knew perfectly well that she could not look at me for grief.

At the hotel, Madame Mazine was behind her desk. She looked up as I went in, shook a finger at me.

‘Your key is not here? It is lost? You have it, Mr Colcott?’

‘In my pocket. I came in about five.’

‘I was at supper.’

‘I had some business to deal with.’

‘There was a telephone call for you. About four o’clock. From London.’ She handed me a slip of folded paper. ‘They will call again tomorrow in the morning. The lady did not speak very good French. Tomorrow I am sure. About eight, our time.’

When I opened the paper I saw the number, and the name.

It was from Helen.

Chapter 12

I was awake before the cockerel the next morning. It was just getting light.

I don’t quite know what in-built clock functions in one’s head and rings unheard bells to get one alerted for a telephone call which is not due until eight o’clock.

But I was ready.

The room was washed in grey mussel shell light. The wardrobe loomed in dark bulk; the two depressing pictures reflected merely silvery glass; my clothes, thrown over one of the chairs last night, a stooped figure, a vagrant frozen into stillness.

And then the cockerel started his morning with a raucous crow, a flapping of sleep-heavy wings, shaking and flustering of neck feathers, a furiously agitated scratching of his beak. A huffle and fluffle of feathers, then he settled and looked vaguely around at his wives wandering cautiously about the yard as if they had never seen it before, heads bowed, eyes yellow with inquiry. Quite suddenly he jumped on one, frightened the wits out of her, had his way, scrambled off, began his crowing, wings a-tremble. The hen ruffled her plumage, shook her head, recommenced the search for whatever it was she had been seeking.

I had left my hillocky bed, wandered across to the window to see the dawn come up behind the cliffs. A gentle breeze trailed through the lilac bushes, fluttered the washing on the line, bowed the tall peony tree which almost smothered the chicken shed.