‘I’ve brought the money.’ Hugh gave back the cigarette, handed over the envelopes. Mr Jones counted, then said,

‘Okay, fine. I have francs, dollars, deutschmarks, that do you?’

‘Yes, thank you.’

‘Hold this.’ He gave Hugh the joint. ‘Won’t belong.’ He went into the bungalow. Hugh smoked quietly until Mr Jones came back.

‘Here you are.’ He handed Hugh an envelope. ‘That should keep you going for a while. When are you off?’

‘Soon.’

‘Right. No need to tell me. Does she know?’

‘Matilda?’

‘Yes.’

‘I haven’t told her. I’m just going to be there one minute, gone the next.’

‘That’s the best way.’ Mr Jones nodded. ‘The Express says you’ve been seen in Paris, the Mirror says East Berlin, they’re always keen on East Berlin, it’s not easy to check.’

‘I shall leave the dog.’

‘Sure. Something to remember you by.’

‘She won’t want to remember me. It’s her husband she remembers.’

‘That’s an illusion.’ Mr Jones spat, drew on the last dregs of pot. ‘She’s conned herself all her life, that woman.’

‘She doesn’t seem to have had much life. I must go.’ Hugh stood up quickly. ‘She’s cooking supper. It’s getting dark.’

‘Autumn’s here –’

‘Yes, nearly.’

‘Where shall you go?’

‘East Berlin.’

Mr Jones waved as Hugh left. As he walked away he could hear him chuckling.

The cottage was strangely still. Hugh paused, smelling danger. Matilda was silent. There was no car by the gate but something had gone wrong. Hugh gestured to Folly to run ahead. The dog trotted along the brick path and in at the kitchen door.

Inside the house Matilda made a noise, just a noise barely human. He ran into the house. Matilda looked up at him. ‘The police –’

Hugh felt his heart constrict, sweat break out, pins and needles in his fingers. ‘Where? When?’

‘They saw him from their car, they tried, one of them went into the water and got wet. There was nothing they could do. His head was bitten off.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘Gus. He’s dead. A fox, they said. A struggle by the river. His body was in the water. Feathers on the bank, they said. He must have put up a fight.’

Hugh let out his breath. ‘Where is he?’

‘They took him away. I wouldn’t want to see him like that, they said. He pecked one of them once. I thought they were coming for you, but it was Gus. What shall I do?’

Hugh moved, picked up Matilda in his arms and held her close.

‘Shut up. Don’t speak.’ He carried her upstairs. She was lighter than she looked. He pulled off her clothes, snapping buttons, yanking her arms out, unzipped her jeans, pulled them off.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Undressing you.’

‘Why?’

‘Shut up.’ He kicked off his shoes, tore off his trousers, ‘Come here, hold on, open your legs –’

‘I –’