‘Hullo, hullo, I can’t hear you.’

‘This is Piers.’

‘Yes, John, how are you?’

‘Haven’t you had your phone mended yet?’

‘No.’

‘You should. It’s months since that dog bit it, broke it.’

‘What?’

‘I said it’s months since –’

‘He hated the bell, the noise hurt his ears, so he jumped at it, bit it.’

‘You should get it mended, it won’t cost you anything.’

‘Oh.’ Matilda ran a finger over the sellotape holding the machine together.

‘He’s dead anyway.’

‘I can’t hear you.’ She smiled at Gus in the doorway shifting from foot to foot.

‘I said he’s dead.’

‘I heard you. What do you want?’

‘I want to know how you are.’

‘I’m all right, John.’

‘Piers.’

‘All right, Piers. It’s awfully silly to change your name at your age.’

‘It’s always been Piers.’

‘John to me. This call’s costing you a lot. What do you want?’

‘Are you coming to London?’

‘Don’t know.’

‘Do you good to have a change.’

‘I’m going to have one.’

‘Going somewhere nice?’

‘I can’t hear you.’

‘Get the phone mended.’

‘What?’ She waved to Gus.

‘Heard from the children?’

‘Yes, no, fairly lately.’

‘Matilda.’

‘Yes?’

‘Get the phone mended, it’s dangerous, you might need it urgently.’

‘Mind own biz.’

‘What?’

‘Goodbye, John.’

‘Piers.’

‘All right, Piers.’ She replaced the receiver, lifted the bucket out of the sink and sloshed water over the table stained by similar previous events. The wet wood steamed in the sun.

‘Like some maize?’ She stood looking down at Gus. ‘Come on then.’ Gus followed her while she fetched the maize. She threw a little on the grass. The gander ignored it.

‘Gus, you must eat.’ She sat down and the bird climbed onto her lap. ‘Eat, you fool.’ She held the bowl. Gus ate a little, pushing the corn about with his beak while she stroked him, pressing her hand along his back then curving it round his breast. ‘You must keep up your strength for all those pretty ladies. You will like them, you know you will. You won’t be lonely with them.’

Gus got off her lap to stroll about cropping grass before coming back to stand behind her, leaning his neck over her shoulder, twisting it to peer up into her eyes.

Matilda sat looking down the valley, tired, trying to think whether there was anything left undone.

The house was scrubbed, polished, hoovered, the beds made up with the best linen. Silver, brass and copper shining. Stores in the cupboards and larder. Bills paid, desk tidy, list of the whereabouts of people and things they would need all written, every spider captured and put outside before its web was destroyed. All done. Only the picnic basket and bathing things to get now. And Gus.