‘It seems not to have occurred to you that once upon a time, not so long ago, this was my house. Full of promise, of joy, happiness. Laughter even. Yes, there was laughter. It’s empty now. Stripped of love and joy. You have told me that you were certain that James was “around still”, that was your phrase, I seem to remember? That he could be in Tunis, even the Argentine, anywhere, with a large sum of money. You insist that he exists still. And yet you can happily ask me about fuse-boxes and cesspits and beds for your new house? I don’t give a fig, William, not a fig. You go it alone.’

‘A part of your life, Florence, has ended. I agree. It’s like a book coming to the end. Closing the covers. But there are other books to read, to take up. We must go ahead. A phase in my life has ended, but not my life! I knew that when I came here, but I am not going to sit down and say all is over, that I have had my turn! Not me. I am starting again. I need you to help me, I want to help you. We will try to set out again. Together. It won’t be easy, it won’t be smooth. There are terrible hazards ahead, that I know. As firmly as I know that I love you very, very much indeed, that I want you, that I will wait, be patient, and always be near you to help you “cross the stile”. Do you follow me?’

‘I do.’

‘That I love you, and that I have told you – that was the one thing which you omitted from your list just now.’

‘I omitted it, William, because I must discount it entirely. Like garlic in a recipe. It is “optional”, you know? That means it is not necessary.’

‘It is necessary. I am deathly persistent.’

‘And so am I. When you go to collect your son at the airport, will you contact Aronovich? He knew everyone at L’Hermitage: the Jacquet boy, the black man, Jojo … Perhaps he might know something that you, or we, do not. Will you try?’

‘If you give me the telephone number, I’ll call this evening, until I get him. Explain who I am, that I now have Jericho, the canvases. Would that be in order?’

‘Perfectly. I’ll give it to the hotel desk. I haven’t got it here.’ She pushed the gate idly with one foot; it squealed in protest. ‘It needs oiling. So much to do. The garden looks much tidier. You have been busy.’