‘Tea?’ May offers, she pulls a table out from a little nest of them by the window and puts the tray on it.

‘That’d be lovely.’

Her mouth is tight, the smile forced. I’ll be in for it later. Her mother sits down in the armchair in the corner and I have to stop myself from staring. She’s nothing like I imagined. Small and pale and absolutely ordinary. She’s wearing a paisley dress, a knitted cardigan, stockings that are far too dark for her skin. She looks frail and harmless.

‘This is Arthur, Mum. I met him at the post office when he was covering the village round.’

‘Nice to meet you, Mrs Matthews.’

‘I remember you from the field day,’ she says glancing over, ‘you visited the tea tent. May never mentioned you’d formed an acquaintance.’ She holds out her cup, ‘a touch more milk in mine please.’

May’s cheeks are all flushed. When she pours her hand is unsteady.

‘We don’t usually have visitors on Sundays,’ her mother says and her eyes settle somewhere on the wall just behind me as if she’s talking to my shadow. It makes me wonder about her eyesight. I glance over to May but she’s still messing with the tea things. It makes me wonder if there’s something wrong with my face.

‘We stay at church till one, setting up for the evening service. If you’d come any earlier you’d’ve had a wasted trip.’

‘You’ll have to excuse me for dropping in like this Mrs Matthews,’ my voice comes out all strangled and clogged, I clear my throat and swallow a couple of times, ‘I became a godfather today, you see.’

The tiniest of nods.

‘The christening was in town but my friend Jimmy – he’s the father – well he grew up out here, on a farm just down the road. There’s a get-together afterwards at the old family place. Just a little dinner. I couldn’t pass by without saying hello.’

‘Catholic?’ she says and for a minute I can’t think how to answer. I look at May but her face is unreadable.

‘Church of England,’ I say, although it’s not as if I’d really know the difference.

She nods. I’ve said the right thing. ‘Was it a nice service?’

‘Lovely,’ I take some shortbread from the tray and try to think of a way to keep the conversation going, ‘the hymns were… particularly rousing.’

May smiles. Just a little one. It’s gone so quickly I can’t really be sure. I hold the saucer under my chin to catch the crumbs. Lick the sugar off my lips. The silence is painful.