On the line from London John was warmly welcoming. Of course she must come. When? Soon? ‘Come soon, I’m going away, come before I go. I’m very busy but we can have the evenings together.’

‘That would be nice.’

‘How long can you stay?’

‘Oh, not long, a night or two.’

‘Nonsense, you must stay at least ten days, get back into your London ways. Mrs Green will give you breakfast in bed. We will cosset you.’

‘Would Monday be all right?’

‘Of course. I shall expect you in time for dinner. You’ll take the usual train?’

‘I expect so.’

‘Monday evening then.’ John rang off.

Matilda looked at Hugh. ‘Did you hear him? He has a very loud voice, always has had.’

‘Every word. What does he do?’

‘Some branch of the Treasury. He wanted the Foreign Service. He was disappointed. We met when we were young. His aunt was a friend of my mother’s. He’s rich, rather an old woman, likes his comforts, won’t ever come here, it’s not grand enough. He likes birds and fishing. Tom and I could never decide whether he liked girls or boys or neither. That side of him is non-existent, he’s sexless.’

‘Or it’s carefully hidden.’

‘That’s what Tom said – carefully hidden. He always pretends he is something to do with Intelligence, it’s his sort of snobbery.’

‘What form does it take?’

‘He talks as though he knew about spies, defectors to and from Russia, the C.I.A., French Intelligence, even Chinese. To hear him talk he might be all the M.I.s rolled up in one umbrella. He carries an umbrella, wears a bowler.’ Matilda laughed. Hugh liked to see her laugh; she had small teeth, unhorsey.

‘He’s an odd man,’ Matilda went on, ‘good-looking in a way. He always talks as though he knows me better than I know myself. He also knows the children better. He knew Tom better, too.’

‘Differently, perhaps?’

‘Perhaps that’s it. Another side to the side which was mine? People are so much more difficult than animals.’

‘You love animals best?’

‘Oh yes,’ she said quickly. ‘I trust animals.’

‘Not Tom? You didn’t trust Tom?’

Matilda flushed.

‘I’m sorry,’ Hugh said quickly. ‘I’d forgotten.’

‘I didn’t trust Tom before I found him in bed with Louise. There was a part of Tom I never knew and John, in an odd way, knew it. He knows more about Mark, Claud, Anabel and Louise than I ever shall.’

‘Why does John want to be called Piers? Does he hate his name?’

‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘He wants to be Sir Piers, it’s more elegant.’

‘Are you afraid of him?’

‘He is a bit creepy. Claud says he’s creepy. When the children were small he pretended he knew all about Burgess, Maclean and Philby. The children called him “Beclean filthy”. A silly joke.’