‘It’s rather untidy usually.’ She felt the Rayburn which was still warm, opened its door. In the fire box embers glowed. ‘I expected it to be out.’ She threw in sticks and a few larger pieces of wood, opened the damper. The fire flared and she put on coke. ‘Could you feed Folly? Don’t give her too much. The tin opener’s on the wall.’

Hugh opened a tin. ‘Is there a dog bowl?’

‘There on the shelf.’ Matilda handed him Stub’s bowl. ‘I bet she’s thirsty.’ She filled the water bowl and watched the dog drink while the man spooned out food. ‘That’s enough. Too much will make her sick.’

They watched the dog eat. Matilda sighed and muttered.

‘What did you say?’

‘I said “another hostage to fortune” – I had just got free.’

He looked at her curiously.

‘If you give her a run out at the back I’ll get us some food. She may not be housetrained. It’s a walled garden. She won’t run away.’

‘What about me?’ He snapped his fingers for the dog.

‘You needn’t run any more tonight. You can eat and sleep.’

He went out with the dog.

Matilda went upstairs to switch on the immersion heater and turn down the bed in the spare room. She opened the window and leaned out. In the oak tree up the lane an owl screeched. There was no other sound but the stream trickling over its stony bed. She felt terribly hungry. In her bedroom she opened windows and let in the warm night. The house caught its breath and came to life.

In the kitchen the man sat slumped in the beechwood chair, the dog at his feet, nose straining towards the stove. He said: ‘She’s a good little dog, your Folly.’ The dog pricked her ears but looked at neither of them.

‘She’s yours, not mine. I’ll get something to eat. Could you manage an omelette?’

‘Lovely.’

‘Salad?’

‘Yes please.’

‘You’ll find wine in the larder. The corkscrew’s in that drawer.’ Matilda took a torch from the dresser and went out into the garden, shining it along the rows of vegetables, choosing a lettuce.

The sky was a mass of stars, windless. Were Vanessa and Bobby still on the beach? Had the barbecue been a success? The torch focused on a toad crawling slowly across the brick path, his eyes golden. With concentration he pulled first one long back leg up then the other. He knew his destination.

She laid the table, broke eggs, made a salad, found biscuits and butter, poured the wine, cut bread.

‘It’s a bit cold.’

‘It doesn’t matter.’

The eggs sizzled and spluttered in the pan. She cut the omelette in half and tipped it onto their plates.