Clarissa was Jewish, hence the name Jacob. Culturally, not in any religiously orthodox way. But it was still a conscious, constant awareness of custom and certain holidays that were observed. Ever liked that, he felt his wishy-washy, non-committal, I-suppose-I-am-Church-of-England religious, if you could even call it that, commitment was a little sad and certainly ineffectual. So he welcomed a commitment to something, and Judaism didn’t seem half bad. His grandfather’s wife had been Jewish, so, in his head, it carried the continuity of skipped generations.

‘I miss him too, and you.’

He said the latter as an afterthought, which she seemed to pick up, judging by her lack of response.

‘Well, when are you coming home? And what are we going to do when you do? You have to be back in what, just over two weeks?’

‘Yes.’

He replied vaguely, as a return, at this point, seemed remote and so incredibly distant.

‘About that. I guess I’ll come home, and well, see how we go. Is that what you want?’

‘Well, you are responsible for Jacob.’

‘Wait.’

He said, a spontaneous and instantly regretted interjection.

‘Am I? Am I really? After all you said, in fact, and the, and the—’

It was difficult to form into a word. But he did.

‘Betrayal.’

‘I didn’t call you to go into all that on the phone. I just wanted to see how you are doing and whether we have any kind of future, you know, plan. It’s not unreasonable to ask. I have responsibilities too, we both do.’

‘Do I? I thought you removed those responsibilities from my life. That seemed to be your intention at least.’

‘I’m going now, Ever.’

That was so typical of Clarissa, at the point of actually talking about some serious shit, she would pull out. Discussion, calm discussion, was not for her. Emotional argument was her thing.

‘I miss you OK, that’s it, let me know what you’re doing.’

‘OK.’

And then after a long 6,000-mile pause, that seemed to travel every mile, Clarissa said, without much enthusiasm,

‘I guess I love you, Ever.’

‘OK.’

He said.

And the phone call ended with the words.

‘Give my love to Jacob.’

He wasn’t sure if she caught them or not.

He retired the phone to the inside pocket of his jacket, aware that the radio waves, even though a form of non-ionising radiation, might be causing his heart a problem. He stood and thought, I have a child, why in God’s name isn’t he truly mine? Then thought again, about its magnitude in this, his endless chain of emotion.

And then thought again that maybe he was thinking too much.

Again.

*

No sign now of Mr Lorken.

Should he go and see Miss Money-Root? But then he had no information to give her.