She lay in his arms and felt like lost treasure, found again. It was such a long time, such a long, long time, since sex had felt like anything other than a kindness to a person she cared about, an act of generosity to clear the air, to keep things on an even keel. Desire such as this … oh, it belonged to the past, but she remembered it, she did, she remembered the drama of it, the heat and passion, the exquisite longing; it was exhilarating, life-enhancing, empowering. She kissed him and kissed him and he laughed and kissed her back and then, when she’d calmed herself and gathered her wits, she stood up, entirely unselfconscious now under his gaze, and walked to the door, on the back of which hung an old satin kimono, as red as the rising sun. She unhooked it from the peg, and turned around. He was watching her every move; watched her slip into the gown, tie the broad silk sash.

It felt cool against her skin, and light as air.

They stared at each other, stunned by the miracle of being alone together in this room, then he said, ‘You look like a very dishevelled and sexy geisha in that. Where you going?’

‘Downstairs for a drink of water. Want to come?’

‘You bet.’ He stood up and pulled on his shorts and T-shirt, and followed her downstairs. ‘Where are we, exactly?’ he said, looking about him at the peculiar furniture that crowded the living room.

‘I told you, it’s Sheila’s house, she lives here with Dora, who used to be a train driver on the Pichi Richi Railway, but now she’s just a nomad, like Sheila.’

‘The what?’

‘Steam train, named after the Pichi Richi Pass. Long story.’

Dan sat down cross-legged on the wide green sofa and patted the space next to him, so she handed him a glass of water and sat down too. She felt completely comfortable with him, completely at home in every possible way, and then he seemed to read her mind because he said, ‘You know that Bill Withers song “Can We Pretend”? That’s how I feel. Like there was no yesterday, like all those years away from you never happened.’