‘Who knows? I haven’t seen him for six weeks. I can’t bear to see him suffer.’

‘Jules will let us know. He usually calls about six. Come over and let’s hang out.’

‘I’ll be round, what, 7.30?’

‘Whatever. It will just be so fun to see you.’

It is true that she can’t bear to see Harry. She finds that there is something creepy about him now; that voice which comes from within his head rather than from his mouth seems to her threatening, as though an impostor, a fraud, has stolen his identity. When she’s with him he looks confused, as though he doesn’t really know who she is. Once in his bedroom downstairs, equipped with frames and a commode and gloomily scented by his many medicines, she came to see him and he was sitting with his pyjamas open. His penis was semi-erect. What memories had reached him when he saw her? Maybe he exposes himself to Estelle.

I want to lose this awful fear. I’m longing for him to die.

Estelle says that Harry is quite happy. Estelle alone has cracked the code and understands his every encrypted word. To Fleur his words sound as if they have made a few detours and bounced off the inside of his skull before shambling out of his mouth. She thinks of Quasimodo in the Disney version of The Hunchback of Notre-Dame. Was Quasimodo living the dream? Did he dare to dream? She remembers the songs, especially ‘Heaven’s Light’. In musicals everyone is living the dream like mad.

She calls to speak to Amanda Stapleton, but she gets the organ grinder’s monkey. He says that Amanda could make time to see her tomorrow after three.

‘Fine. I get back from the gym about three on a Thursday, could she come at four?’

‘Just let me look at her diary. Yes, that will be fine, Lady Trevelyan-Tubal.’