First of all, where was James? Had he really wandered off into the vast unknown, or was it suicide? How could one tell? The woman would have the clues, I supposed, and then, quite suddenly, I realized that I didn’t even know her name except that, presumably, it was the same as mine. Caldicott … she was wearing his wedding ring. And she knew of us, Elspeth and me, which was, after all, only reasonable. He would have spoken of us certainly in the years they had been together. How many years was that? Rent in advance for three and all he had indicated in his letter was that he had been living in Jericho for ‘the last few years’. Well, that could be two, three, five or as many as ten, couldn’t it? ‘A few years’ was a measure of vague time, nothing more.

Had he been successful with his paintings generally? How had he lived otherwise? His allowance, or legacy, from Father was reasonably generous, but not enormous: he was no millionaire by any means. Perhaps he had done well in France – I’d never heard that he had, but then I had never heard anything of him anyway.

I supposed that he had become a French resident after so long. You are not able to stay in France for any length of time without registering somewhere, and having ah identity card and so on. Let alone get married, I assumed.

And who was this woman I’d met? Not peasant stock as the paintings of her had rather led me to believe – she was finer boned than that, spoke too well, had a very distinct, brisk, sure air about her. In the portraits I’d seen there had been a look of bewilderment, I’d thought, and sadness. These, it would appear, had quite gone now. Marriage to James, I reckoned, can’t have been much of a joy – a difficult haul – and then living as they did, and where they did, was hardly luxurious … quite all right, of course, acceptable, simple, an artist’s place, but pretty hellish in the winter. Did they have a car, I wondered … someone – who? – had said he came to the village for his provisions on a bike. But perhaps he used a bike just for the exercise. Maybe she drove. It wasn’t important anyway.

But what was important was the next move. Tea at four o’clock. I’d really have to ask her her name. Forgetful fellow, I am.