I thought that a decent claret would soothe, or set at ease, my restlessness, but it did not. So I went off to the bar and had a large brandy; that made it worse. Or made me worse. I rather think it stimulated more than soothed. I still felt uneasy, un-tired. Wretched. Of course, what I was doing really was trying to delay the moment when I would have to go up to my little room with its bleeding heart Jesus and the kittens and the lumpy bed. I would be stuck in there and forced to think things out. The best way to think things out would be to walk.

That is what I did. The little town was dead. No one moved. There were shaded lights here and there slitting through shutters, a cat ran across my path, a thin shadow. There was a light, fresh, clear wind. The fresh air of height, not low-lying air.

Now, where was I? I had been sent a key. Correct. I was presently in the deserted streets of a small French village. I had decided to take over the lease of my brother’s house. For three years. My missing brother. Whom I had determined to try and find. Somehow.

So far those facts were clear.

My life in London, fixed permanently I’d always thought, was now at an end. I was facing a new start. Hence my irritation, my imbalance, my ragged feeling.

I found myself at the top of rue Émile Zola, the end nearest the square and the church which, at that exact moment, struck the half-hour. Ten-thirty. Across the square the signboard of the hotel suddenly went black as the lights were switched off. I stood alone on the cobbles, a little breeze riffled past, caught a paper wrapping on the street, danced it into a spiral, let it fall.

Down the street, beyond the lilac hedge of No. 11, a light glowed through the white lace curtains at an upper window.

It could have been her window.

Or Madame Prideaux’s. Or the child’s.

A gathering of folds suggested birds and leaves.

Would she have a room facing on to the street? I didn’t know.

But, quite suddenly, I was calm and collected. Clearheaded. It was as if a sudden violent temperature had dropped away. I felt perfectly fine, high-hearted, ready for anything ahead, no confusions, no restlessness. I would cope perfectly well.

After all, in my dull way, I always had. Never spectacular, just safe. It is amazing how swiftly, how suddenly indeed, one can alter; it seemed to me that there were no problems at all.

And I suddenly knew (with only very slight misgivings) that I was in love.