He sighed and set about exploring the house. He felt it impossible to believe Matilda had really swept herself away. There must be clues to her character that she was unconscious of leaving. He remembered exploring his home as a child, his discoveries among his parents’ possessions. The thought of his mother, lovely, young, made him pause. She had been old looking up from the sofa, really old. The recollection of her sitting there, eyes full of terror rid him of any wish to pry on Matilda. He would do it later, in a better mood. He wandered back to the stream in the copse, Folly at his heels. If he stared long enough at the running water he would stop seeing his mother’s hands, rings loose on old fingers. The rings, in his childhood, had fitted tight. She had pulled hard to get them off. ‘Try them on your thumb, my love,’ she had said. ‘Try them on your thumb.’ He looked at his hands. None of those rings would fit now. He sat watching the water flow past, the dog beside him, companionable, alert, quizzing a black and green dragonfly zipping up and down the water.

Presently Gus floated past, proudly paddling.

‘Goose murderer,’ Hugh called to the bird. ‘Goose assassin.’ Gus barely turned his head, floating on to land further down to crop grass on the bank.

‘Thinks he’s human,’ Hugh said to the dog. ‘Thinks himself like us, free to take life.’ The dog looked up at him briefly, then lay in a ball against his thigh, her nose under her tail, the warmth of her body consolatory.

Gus finished cropping grass, crossed the stream and waddled back to the cottage past Hugh who heard him honk as a car passed along the lane.

The gander set up a different honking when Matilda returned. Hugh heard her voice raised in greeting. Followed by the dog, he went to meet her.

‘I’ve bought stocks of food for you for when you’re alone. Tins and dry stuff. You won’t have to shop. I won’t be away long. D’you think you can manage with cold food?’

‘Oh yes.’

‘If you have the fire the village will see smoke and if I’m away someone may come and look.’

‘I’ll be all right.’

‘It’s rather drear but –’

‘Less drear than the nick.’

‘There’s that. Oh, by the way, Mr Jones – he sees UFOs.’

‘What?’

‘UFOs. He’s given up telling the police because they laugh but he still tells me. It’s just possible that he may appear suddenly then –’

‘What do you do about it?’

‘I pretend to take an interest. Tom did. He always took note; it’s a neighbourly act.’

‘Do I hide?’

‘He can appear silently on bare feet. It’s awkward. Even Gus has missed him on occasion.’

‘It’s a hazard I must take.’

‘Yes.’

Gus honked. ‘Telephone.’ Matilda ran to answer it.