‘I certainly see him as a creep now.’

‘I don’t understand. I never understood why you had anything to do with him, Maia.’

‘I told you. He comes over well when he wants. The man had had a terrible head injury, so I thought any oddness was because of the damage.’

‘Well, I like to be fair—only I knew Anacrites long before he had his skull bashed in by some bent Spanish oil producers. He was sinister from the start. I’ve always thought,’ I told Maia, ‘the head wound only made his character more visible. He’s a snake. Untrustworthy, obnoxious, poisonous.’

Maia said nothing. I did not insist. I never wanted to push her into admitting she had been fooled.

‘We had nothing in common,’ she said in a depressed voice. ‘As soon as I told him there was no future, I felt so relieved it was over—’ So true. Women are not sentimentalists. I remembered how she had immediately begun flirting with Petronius, who happened to be available. ‘Anacrites would not believe that we were finished—then he turned vindictive. You know the rest, Marcus. Don’t make me go over it.’

‘No, no,’ I reassured her. He had hung about, morosely stalking her, until the fateful day he had her home destroyed. I could see my sister growing tense as she tried to avoid those memories. ‘Just tell me, what happened today, Maia?’

‘For some reason, I opened the door—I don’t know why. He hadn’t knocked. There he was—standing in the passage, right outside. I was completely shocked. How long had he been out there? He got inside before I caught my breath.’

‘Then what?’

‘He kept pretending everything was normal. It was just a social call.’

‘Was he unpleasant?’

‘No. Marcus, I hadn’t seen him, not to talk to, since I gave him his marching orders.’

‘Were you scared?’

‘I was worried Lucius would come home. There would have been a horrendous row. Anyway, I pretended he was there, asleep indoors, so I shooed the spy away. You know Anacrites—I thought he probably realised I was lying.’

‘So what did he say?’

‘That was the funny thing.’ Maia frowned. ‘He tried small talk—not that he knows how to do it. His conversation is zero. That was one reason I couldn’t continue with him. After Famia, I needed a man who would respond if I talked to him.’

I laughed. ‘Oh, you get banter from Lucius Petronius?’