‘No problems, I now have a car that is cheaper than a month’s rental.’

A stretch, but not far off the truth. Right area, thereabouts, anyway.

‘You have an invitation from Mr Lorken for dinner at his home.’

‘Oh my. Show me.’

She said, with an obvious pleasure at her social calendar opening up.

He passed his phone and showed her the attached invitation.

‘Very formal. Dietary requirements? Alcohol.’

Was her sole rider and there was a gurgle of laughter.

‘On Friday? My, a couple of days to recover. I will look forward to that. At least it’s early.’

Noting the 6.30 arrival time.

‘I can’t go. I’m not invited.’

‘Of course you’re not. You work for me.’

He was a little taken aback, expecting – ‘I can’t go without you.’ But no, she was straight into—

‘I’ll wear my kingfisher blue dress. That’ll knock them dead. Valentino. My favourite, I think. Made for me.’

Ever didn’t doubt it.

‘And I will not go in my goddam wheelchair.’

‘My arm won’t be there.’

‘I will take my fist cane.’

The puzzled look spurred her explanation.

‘I use it, a silver carved fist turned with fingers up. That’s the handle. So hand can grip hand – it’s made from ebony. I had to put a bit of ugly rubber on the bottom, it was slipping everywhere, but it does not, I assure you, detract from the overall picture of elegance.’

Again, Ever didn’t doubt it.

‘I am doing all this for you, you know, my sweet. Peck my cheek. Both of them.’

He obeyed.

‘Thank you. What is it about you Ever? That I want. That I want to help?’

She seemed to correct herself, in case it had the suggestion of where they never go now.

He mused, though, that they both wanted to: and wondered why they didn’t. But he had felt the invader the last and only time, and was not about to repeat that unpleasantness, that feeling.

*

Lomita and Ever ate an omelette.

Prepared by Manita, they sat in silence in the brown of the dining room. They drank sparkling water, followed by camomile tea.

The garden lights shone bright, the sun was switched off and the last of the hummingbirds had gone to bed. Lomita was in her wheelchair and her Pucci wrap. Exhaustion was on her face like make-up, and Ever, always one to go for guilt, felt it was because of him; it prompted his question.

‘Should I leave? Would it make it easier for you?’

‘I don’t know why you came into my life, Ever, but it was too quiet before.’

A smile. He did not understand her change in tone.

‘What am I doing, Ever? What are you really going to do, and do you think I am going to condone it? You are not well. Don’t you see that? Why don’t you see that?’