‘You like fucking, you said so, shut up.’ He put his hand over her mouth. ‘There, be quiet, just move a bit – there.’

Matilda came alive, gasping, struggling, fighting, joining in, holding him, her response sudden, silent. Then she sighed.

‘It hurt, it hurt, you raped me.’

‘I didn’t mean to rape you. I meant to console.’

‘Like your mother,’ Matilda murmured.

‘What?’

‘Nothing. It hurt nicely.’

‘You haven’t for so long. It will be better next time.’ He held her, stroking her back. Outside the room Folly yawned and stretched then, with a sigh, fell asleep. They would remember her dinner in time. She wasn’t all that hungry though it was late.

Owls on their silent hunting zoomed over the fields. Holiday makers drove along the main road, making for the motorway and urban life.

Matilda lay in Hugh’s arms. ‘You will flash before my eyes,’ she murmured.

‘Hush.’ He kissed her mouth gently.

‘I am old enough to be your mother.’ He kissed her, running his tongue along her teeth as a child rattles railings with a stick. ‘A good joke. Sleep now, it’s not the moment to say so.’

‘Would I have liked your mother?’

‘I think so. Sleep.’ He kissed her.

He slid out of bed, dressed, crept downstairs. His wallet was on the kitchen table. He crept up again for his passport and small bag of clothes, stood by Matilda’s door listening.

Matilda snored.

Downstairs Hugh fed Folly, scooping dog meat from a tin, watching her wolf it.

‘Quick now, have a run.’ He let her into the garden to pee. ‘Hurry up.’ She came in. ‘Stay now. Take good care of her. Be a good dog. Go to your basket.’ He pointed to the basket. The dog went to it, sat uneasily, watching as he swallowed a quick sandwich and drank milk. He patted her once. ‘Lie down, be good. Take care of her.’