By the time most of the floor was clear and the bed was bare, both men were sneezing. Malcolm went over to the bed and knelt on the mattress to wrench open the sash window above it—it was stiff, the wood warped, and it took him a few hefts to get it open. The night came into the room, bringing with it the damp of rain.

“Get some air in here,” he said. “Sorry about the dust.” He looked around again. “Needs a good vacuum.”

“I’ll do it,” Tommy said.

“Right, O.K.,” Malcolm said. He fetched the vacuum cleaner from the airing cupboard and while Tommy was occupied with that, went in search of fresh sheets for the bed, and the spare duvet and pillows he knew Heather had kept somewhere. Finally he tracked it all down, crammed into the top of the cupboard in their bedroom. He’d been afraid everything would have a faintly mildewed smell, but Heather had packed it all away carefully, the duvet and pillows folded into a large plastic bag. The woman had been a wonder.

Tommy had turned off the vacuum cleaner and was leaning on it, surveying his handiwork, when Malcolm returned to the spare room. “Not so bad now,” Tommy said.

“No. It’s much better,” Malcolm said. He remembered Tommy as a child then, dusting for Heather or doing the washing up, always wanting his work to be noticed. Malcolm looked around the room again, feeling faintly ridiculous to be making a show of it. “Almost unrecognizable.”

Tommy unplugged the vacuum cleaner and wound up the cord while Malcolm took the bedding over to the bed. But when Malcolm began to spread out the sheet, Tommy said, “I’ll do it,” and came over as if to take the sheet from him.

“It’s all right. Leave it to me.”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll make it up.”

Malcolm stepped back, surprised at Tommy’s insistence. He wondered if Tommy was remembering how many times Malcolm or Heather had remade this bed for him as a child, and hoped it wasn’t that.

Taking the vacuum cleaner downstairs, he spotted Tommy’s rucksack in the hall, lying by the boot rack. When Malcolm picked it up, it felt very light. Hadn’t Tommy brought anything with him apart from the clothes he stood up in? They seemed inadequate enough.

Back in the spare room, Tommy was kneeling by the bed, tucking the sheet carefully under the corners of the mattress.

“I brought your bag,” Malcolm said unnecessarily, putting it down just inside the door and feeling as though he’d overstepped the mark, had somehow invaded Tommy’s privacy.

“Thanks,” Tommy said.

There was a short silence.

“Bathroom’s just along the hall,” Malcolm said.

“I know. I remember.”

“Of course.” There was another pause, then Malcolm said, “Well, I’ll go and see about tea. Come down whenever you’re ready. No rush.”