They slept in the prayer-flag room – deeply, for eight hours, as if anaesthetised – and in the morning Ali woke with a kind of lightness of spirit that puzzled her, given the intensity of the previous day. Catharsis, Dan said, the calm after the storm. She said yeah, maybe, and then said she was ravenous, so he went off into downtown Quorn and bought provisions: eggs, bread, fresh coffee and milk, and when he got back they were no longer alone. First he noticed a little red Renault parked next to Ali’s Holden, and then as he pushed open the front door he could hear voices, women’s voices. He had an impulse to back away and disappear again until the coast was clear, then realised that if this was Sheila and Dora – and who else was it going to be, realistically? – then they wouldn’t be going anywhere. He walked down the small hallway and into the kitchen, and there was Ali with two much older women, both of whom immediately eyed him up and down like farmers at a stock sale.

‘Well, hello,’ one of them said, the shorter of the two, although the taller one didn’t look much over five foot two, and she now approached him with arms stretched wide and said, ‘Welcome, Daniel, welcome. I’m Sheila,’ and she enveloped him in a powerful embrace. Dan looked at Ali over the top of Sheila’s wild grey hair and she grinned at him, and shrugged.

‘And I’m Dora,’ said Dora when Sheila released him. They shook hands, and Dora moved in a little closer and looked up at him, staring hard into his eyes. ‘D’you know, I think we’ve met?’ she said.

Dan said, ‘Really? Seems unlikely, but you might be right.’

‘In a previous life, I mean,’ Dora said. ‘You have a very strong aura, and it’s familiar to me.’

‘Oh, this is exciting,’ Sheila said, turning to Ali. ‘Dora’s got a sixth sense for this. It doesn’t happen often, but when it does, hang on to your hat.’

Ali laughed and said, ‘Dora, stop staring at Daniel, you’re scaring him,’ and Dora said, ‘Oh shivers, am I?’ and let go of his hand, which she’d hung on to while she examined his soul.

‘Ah, don’t worry, I can cope,’ Dan said. ‘And look, if you work out who I was last time you met me, I’d love to know.’

‘He’ll be hoping he was Rory Gallagher,’ Ali said.

‘I don’t know Rory Gallagher from a bar of soap,’ Dora said, ‘but anyway, darling, it doesn’t work like that, it’s way more abstract.’

‘Well, whoever you think he might once have been,’ Sheila said, ‘he’s certainly a good-looking devil now.’

‘Give over,’ Dan said, laughing. He was still holding the bag of groceries, and Ali took it off him and began to unpack.