You still look like an angel, she thought, but . . . She thought she could see the lines of pain on his face – and all she wanted was to go to him, to tell him he was going to get better, to look after him until he was himself again.

‘Oh, Raymond,’ she breathed with a tremble in her voice, ‘what did they do to you?’

She came forward in stuttering steps, as if she might nurse him as she had once nursed her father – but then she stopped. She had forgotten herself, again.

‘Nancy, I’m sorry,’ he whispered. His voice was frail too. His one good eye had a faraway look. ‘I meant to send for you before but I’ve been . . .’ He shrugged, and when he smiled she could see his new crooked smile. ‘Indisposed.’

Indisposed, thought Nancy. At least he had his sense of humour then. At least he had his charm.

‘Nancy,’ he went on, ‘I owe you an explanation.’

‘You don’t owe me anything. I’m only glad you’re—’

‘Alive?’ he joked.

‘Alive,’ said Nancy. ‘Raymond, I—’

‘I know you were there, Nancy. I saw you across the dance floor. You followed us, didn’t you?’

Nancy was not sure what to say. The truth was too foolish. ‘I’m not proud of it, Raymond. I’m sorry. But I wanted to see it for myself. Can you understand that?’

‘You saw more than you, perhaps, had thought you would.’

There was a question waiting to be asked. At first Nancy thought better of it. Then she blurted out, ‘Why did those men attack you, Raymond?’

It was what he had asked Billy to bring her here for. He readied himself by taking deep breaths.

‘I want you to listen to me, Nancy. Listen and, after I’ve spilled it all, if you want to leave this room and tell everyone in the hotel, then I’ll understand. But I had to tell it . . . to you. You told me everything about yourself. You should know the real me. I . . .’ He was nervous, but he pulled himself together and said, ‘I want you to know who I am.’

Nancy waited.