She took off her apron and Henry followed her to the living room.

‘Remember when Frank and I came to Paris in the sixties?’ she went on. ‘To get you out of jail, during the student revolt?’

‘For which I’ve remained immensely grateful to you.’

‘Cut it out, Henry! Nobody in our family demands gratitude, and even you should know that. My mind sometimes returns to the girl you were living with at the time—’

‘Julekha was one of the good things that I’ve encountered on my rovings.’

‘But that’s what she’s remained for you. Just an encounter, and it helps prove my point. I recall your once bringing her to Manchester. Though the family would’ve preferred her to’ve been Jewish, needless to say, I’m sure that our late lamented elders let themselves hope that at last Henry was about to settle down, have a home life instead of wandering the world taking some of the risks that in your time you have.’

The September evening had grown chilly and Leona paused to ignite the gas fire, gazing reflectively into the flames. ‘You had a stove of some sort in your flat in Paris, didn’t you?’

‘It had several amenities my current place of abode doesn’t have. Julekha, not I, paid the rent for that place.’

‘Well, Frank and I didn’t think you could have afforded it! Since money as well as time you’re known to fritter away. How could you have let her, though, Henry? Your brother certainly wouldn’t have. My father had to persuade Frank to let him buy us a house when we got married. Dad would have paid for one twice this size, but Frank isn’t the man to’ve ignored, even when he was young, that the upkeep would be his responsibility.’

‘It seems to’ve been yours as well.’

‘That was my choice,’ Leona replied. ‘If I hadn’t wanted to work, he would gladly have supported me. Since I did, our careers – if such they may be called! – have been as much side by side as our personal life.’

‘And has it yet occurred to either of you that I’m not the only crusader in the family? What the hell else have you two been doing since you set up practice where you did?’

‘The difference, Henry, is that isn’t how we see ourselves. You do.’ Leona sat down on the sofa and said pensively, ‘That time we came to Paris, and Julekha cooked a curry, was a memorable evening for me. It was as if I’d seen a new side of you, Henry. The last thing I’d expected was to find framed photos of your relatives in your home. I hadn’t expected it to be a home, just a temporary accommodation. But that wasn’t its atmosphere.’

‘For that you must blame Julekha! The woman’s touch—’