‘If we’d been born in a different time. Jane Austen’s time. I think that sometimes when I look at her name engraved on the floor of the cathedral. How different it all was then.’

‘The medical treatment wasn’t nearly so good,’ said Christopher teasingly.

‘No. But the manners were there. Men would bow on meeting a lady, and the lady would curtsey to the man.’

‘You’d like to go back to that?’

‘No. It’s ridiculous. But it was just…well…the observation of niceties. You know…’

‘Like letter writing?’

‘Yes. Do you write letters?’

‘Yes, I do. I think the kids think its silly. They think that I should fire off e-mails like they do. But I like writing letters. I like the paper, and the pen and the ink. I can think about what I’m writing, then fold it all up and put it in an envelope. It seems to me to be special. It seems much more personal than an e-mail.’

‘Yes. You’re right. It’s special. Not ordinary.’

At that moment the waitress came and asked them if everything was all right. Christopher looked up to assure her that it was, and as he did so he noticed a movement in the far corner of the restaurant. A Chinese gentleman in a suit had stood up to greet another man who had just come in. The greeting was quite muted, not ostentatious in any way, but Christopher gazed at them transfixed. The Chinese gentleman was smartly dressed and smoking a fat cigar. He motioned to the other gentleman to sit opposite him, and a waitress poured them both glasses of Scotch whisky. Now that they had sat down they were obscured by the other diners, but Christopher had seen enough.

Maria noticed the change in his mood. ‘Are you all right?

‘Sorry?’ he responded absently.

‘Are you sure you like this food?’

‘Yes. Yes. It’s fine.’

She laid down her chopsticks. ‘You know what I was saying about men not thinking that you notice things?’

‘Mmm?’

‘Christopher!’

He came back to earth. ‘Sorry. Yes.’

‘What is it? What’s wrong?’

He took a deep breath. ‘Do you ever do those puzzles in newspapers?’

She looked at him with a bewildered expression. ‘What sort of puzzles?’

‘Connections, I think they’re called. You have to decide how one person who has apparently nothing to do with two or three other people is actually connected to them.’

‘Related you mean?’

‘Yes. In a way. But not always by blood. They may all have been in a film that was directed by a particular person, or they may all wear wigs or something like that.’

Maria looked genuinely worried. ‘Are you sure you’re feeling well?’

‘Yes. Yes I am. I’m very well, but I’ve just had what I believe they call an epiphany.’

‘I thought that came after Christmas.’