‘Well, go and make it out there. I’m busy here.’

‘Too hot. Will? Look. If I put this flowerpot like this, and hold it up with this bit of bamboo stick, like this, and then tie a bit of string to the stick, see, and then sort of hide round the corner – well, when the lizard goes under the flowerpot I just pull the string, the pot falls down and the lizard is trapped. Easy.’

‘Really? Why will the lizard go under the flowerpot?’

Giles looked at me patiently. ‘I bait it of course.’

‘Bait it? With what?’

‘Oh. A worm, a grasshopper. Something wriggly to attract it.’

‘I see. Well, good luck.’

‘What are you doing?’

‘Trying to make the place a bit more cheerful, lived in, you know.’

‘Mum would say they were dust traps.’

‘I am certain she would. And she’d be right. Get up.’

He got up reluctantly, stood rubbing the side of his nose. ‘That photo. Is that Granny and Grandpa?’

‘And your Aunt Elspeth who died, Uncle James with the crab. And me.’

‘With a pipe?’

‘With a pipe.’

‘I’ve never seen you with a pipe.’

‘It was my first and only. Made me sick.’

‘It must be years and years ago. Years. You were very young then, weren’t you?’

‘Yes.’

‘I’m glad you brought the radio. That’ll cheer it up, won’t it? Except it’ll all be French, I suppose.’

‘BBC World Service.’

‘Yuck! Talk, talk. Are we really going to live here?’

‘Well. It depends on a lot of things. Perhaps one day. We’ll see.’

‘Well, all these things you’ve put in the room. If we don’t live here someone will steal them, won’t they?’

‘Who would want an old chipped swan and a tin alarm clock?’

‘The radio. They’d pinch the radio. They always do.’

‘That comes back to the hotel. I need it in my room.’

Giles pushed his flowerpot and the bamboo stick together with his foot. ‘Funny thing to do. Making it all nice, flowers and everything, and then not staying.’

‘Well, we might. We might. I’m just trying to see if it feels right, trying to make it feel more my place and not someone else’s. Starting my “wooing campaign”.’

‘Your what?’

‘“A Frog He Would A-Wooing Go …” Remember that?’ ‘Never heard of it.’

‘Never mind.’

He laughed. ‘Ha! That’s what Mum always says. “Never mind.’” He began to roll the length of string round his index finger. ‘You know Eric?’

‘Know of, don’t know him.’

‘Yes. Well, he’s got a pony-tail. Pig-tail really. Down his back.’

‘Very chic. They can pull him up to Heaven by that, when his time comes.’