‘We’ve had enough for one day.’ Hugh watched her trail up the stairs. Folly stayed with him until he too climbed up the stairs and, while he took off his clothes, she turned several times around, pulling the duvet into a lump with her paws, waiting for him to get into bed. He held her close to his chest, stroking the silky ears while he tried not to think of Matilda’s pain. The dog sighed, breathing warm air into his neck while he lay sleepless, listening to the summer night. He wondered whether Matilda considered God, as his mother professed to do, or whether Death was her only certainty where there would no longer be the possibility of love dying? And did she love Louise, Mark, Anabel and Claud? She had loved her husband. Her voice altered when she spoke the name Claud. He would study it if he had time perhaps. Blood relationships inclined to surprise when there was the inability to communicate.

12

WHEN HUGH WOKE the sun was up. Below his window he could hear the gander talk, Matilda answer. The bird stood on the brick path watching Matilda hoeing along a line of spinach, her movements brisk, economical.

Hugh pulled on his trousers and shirt and opened the door into the passage. Matilda’s door was open, the bed unmade. Hugh looked again at the cupboard, parting the dresses on the rail to see how large a space lay behind. Satisfied, he prowled round the room, glancing at her things; a silver mirror, a brush, few pots or bottles on the dressing-table. He opened a drawer full of bras and nylons. Remembering his mother’s habits, he tried the bedside table, found what he sought, a pile of snapshots. Tom, tall, handsome, fine eyes, hawkish nose, something fanatical about the mouth, a mouth that had kissed wife and daughter. Other snaps jumbled up of children, dogs, Matilda with the children, Matilda holding a puppy, scrawled on the back ‘Stub – three months’. She held the animal with more care than she did the children. Another snapshot – Tom with Louise. The photograph had been crumpled, then smoothed out. Hearing Matilda come into the house he shut the drawer, went down to the kitchen.

‘Sleep well?’ She looked fresh, healthy.

‘Very well thanks. I was prowling round upstairs. I saw you in the garden.’

‘It’s the best time to do chores. I’ll get breakfast.’

‘Have you any photos of your family?’

Matilda looked up. ‘Try the dresser drawer. There’s an envelope on the left, taken before they all flew.’

‘Flew?’

‘Birds leave the nest. It’s the best thing.’

Hugh opened the drawer, found an envelope. ‘Is this it?’

‘Yes. I don’t much care for snaps. It’s other things which bring them to mind – smells, sounds, materials.’

‘Claud’s dresses?’

She laughed. ‘Of course, his dresses. That’s me. Younger.’