‘D’you think so? We didn’t mean it, well, he didn’t. Tom was not a petty person. I am. I would have liked the children to have been interested in us but they were only interested in Louise, Mark, Anabel and Claud.’

‘Are they interesting people?’

‘To themselves, certainly.’

Hugh was afraid he had interrupted the flow but Matilda went on.

‘Sex had a lot to do with it. We thought when sex was no longer fun, no longer essential, we would push off. The great thing for us was to go together, to time it right. Our death must come while we still slept well, ate without indigestion, still made love, while, in Muriel Spark’s words we were still “in possession of our faculties”.’ She sipped her wine, holding the glass with both hands, her head raised, listening to the thunder. ‘We were not prepared to put up with terminal illnesses. It seemed to us that the responsible thing was to end our lives at the right moment, go while the going’s good.’

‘Responsible?’

‘Yes. Socially responsible in the same way as birth control.’

‘Wasn’t it selfish?’

‘Certainly not. We planned to save other people trouble as well as ourselves. It was unselfish.’

‘I see your point.’

‘There were other things. We planned not to have another dog or cat when ours died.’ Matilda cast an irritated eye toward Folly sitting facing the Rayburn, ears cocked, listening. She sighed and made a defeated gesture.

‘Suddenly Tom died without me, before we were ready, while we still –’

‘Still?’

‘Still were enjoying life. We weren’t ready. I should have swallowed my pills then, looked sharp about it. But I have betrayed him. I’m still here, damn it.’

‘You were about to have a stab at it last night.’

‘You deflate me, mock me. It wasn’t just a stab, it was the real thing. I had tidied myself away. In my mind I was as good as dead.’

‘Okay. What about Gus? What about that heroic bird coming back to find an empty house?’

‘It never occurred to me that he would.’

‘And it never occurred to you and Tom that he would drop dead in the rue Jacob, did it? A fine pair, I must say.’ Hugh drank his wine, refilled Matilda’s glass.

‘You are detestable.’

‘And I murdered my mother.’

‘How much do you mind?’

‘It’s difficult to say.’

‘Why?’

‘She wasn’t particularly happy. She never had been satisfied with anything. She was a frightened person –’

‘I bet she was, with you about to bash her to death.’

‘It wasn’t me she was afraid of, it was –’

From the scullery Gus set up a loud honking. There was a rat-tat-tat at the door. Matilda gestured toward the inner door. Hugh went through to the hall where he stood, heart thumping. Folly barked shrilly.

‘Who is it?’ Matilda shouted.

‘Only me, Mrs Pollyput, only me. Constable Luce.’