‘Yes. Day after you left. He came to tell you he’d seen a UFO. He and I play chess.’

Matilda kicked off her shoes, sat at the kitchen table. ‘He used to play with Tom.’

‘So he says.’

‘Has he told anybody you are here? Who does he think you are?’

‘He says he never sees anybody except you as they think he is barmy. I like him. He plays a very odd game.’

‘Tom said he cheated.’

Matilda took from her bag the envelopes, handing them to Hugh. ‘What made you think of hiding it in such a public place?’

‘My brother and I used to dream up places, have competitions between ourselves when we were children.’

‘The Major with the nose?’

‘Yes. Life was simpler then. We trusted each other. It was like Mr Jones. He trusts me. I trust him.’

‘When did he see the UFO?’

‘Day you left. He’s coming presently for a game and supper.’

‘It’s not safe.’

‘I can’t tell him not to come. It would upset him.’

‘A secret between two people is a secret, but not between three. More than three, I daresay. He’s really crazy.’

‘No, no,’ said Hugh comfortably. ‘He is eccentric. He likes to talk, he’s lonely.’

Matilda groaned, put down her cup and went up to have a bath, running the water very deep, almost hotter than she could bear, to wash away insinuations about Tom. She came down to find Hugh and Mr Jones lying on the grass, chatting in the dark.

‘Mr Jones, Huw, how nice.’

Mr Jones scrambled to his feet, short, square with his beard grey on the chin, brown at the sides, his black eyes observant and bright.

‘I brought a bottle with me.’ Mr Jones held Matilda’s hand between both of his, squeezing it reassuringly before letting it go.

‘Oh, how kind.’ She tried to enthuse.

‘Not dandelion, whisky.’ Mr Jones smiled shyly. ‘From the pub.’

‘I’ll fetch some glasses.’ Hugh went into the house.

‘How was London?’ Mr Jones asked politely.

‘So, so.’

‘Nice to get home then?’

‘Yes.’

‘I was delighted to find Hugh here when I came to see you. I would have been disappointed to find the house empty.’

Hugh came out carrying a tray with water and glasses. Mr Jones ignored him. ‘It is important to help Hugh.’

‘Help? In what way?’

‘Oh, give him a lift.’ Mr Jones reached out to take a glass from Hugh and passed it to Matilda. ‘I am interested in the extreme.’

‘What do you mean?’

Mr Jones took the glass Hugh offered. ‘Just a little water. It’s extreme to kill your mother.’ He sipped his drink, eyes downcast.

Matilda couldn’t see Hugh’s face. She let out her breath. ‘You sly old boots.’