‘All right, all right, I hear you. She out or something? Not like her to be going out.’ The voice was faintly Welsh. ‘She can’t be away or she would have asked me to look after you.’ He was now peering in at the scullery window, standing on an upturned bucket to look in. Gus flapped his wings.

‘All right then, all right. I’ll be round again tomorrow, eh?’ The visitor stepped off the bucket and set it right way up. Hugh watched him walk away, waited for him to be well out of sight before letting himself into the house. Gus throttled in his throat in greeting.

‘Mr Jones, was it? Seen a UFO or something? I’d forgotten about him.’

Not daring to put on a light in case the man came back, Hugh felt his way about the kitchen, finding the bread, butter, a bottle of beer in the larder, cheese.

He sat at the table munching, still thinking of Matilda. Despair? Self-hate? Maybe. Hugh shrugged his shoulders, climbed the stairs. He went into Matilda’s room, got into her bed with Folly. She had not changed the sheets, they were rumpled, the pillow smelled of her hair. He felt comforted. It was on this pillow she snored open-mouthed.

15

THE RINGING TELEPHONE woke Hugh. He had overslept; it was late, nearly ten.

He let the thing ring. He had promised Matilda not to answer it. They had arranged a code. If it rang three times and stopped it would be Matilda. She would do this twice. The third time he would answer, otherwise he would let it ring unanswered.

When the phone stopped Hugh went down to let Folly out and feed Gus his mush by the back door, which he propped open with the bootscraper. He made toast and tea, got out marmalade and butter. He stood eating, watching Gus guzzle his food then move slowly across the grass, cropping.

Hearing a car in the lane he hurried into the hall. Folly joined him. The car stopped by the gate; he heard voices. He looked out cautiously. The man he had seen prowling round the cottage was getting out of a police car. He slammed the door.

‘Well, thanks, Constable. Thanks for listening anyway.’

‘That’s all right, Mr Jones. Any time.’

‘I’ll just tell Mrs Poliport.’

‘You do that. You tell her. She and Mr Poliport were always interested I understand.’

‘Oh yes, he was particularly.’

‘A nice gentleman. Goodbye, Mr Jones. See you.’

‘Goodbye.’ The car drove off, footsteps came up the path. Hugh retreated up the stairs to the landing.

Gus honked.

‘Hey, Gus, where’s Matilda then?’ The man came to the kitchen door, calling.