Brando had the key in the door of the car. When he turned it, the locks snapped up in unison. ‘It’s difficult to make predictions, Larry. Particularly at this stage. The tumours have been more aggressive than I’d hoped. A lot of it’s up to the individual, of course, though clearly she’s going to need an increasing amount of nursing care. Isn’t your wife coming over soon?’

‘Next week.’

‘So there’ll be another woman in the house. That’s good. Call me if there’s anything at all you want to discuss. And talk to Una. She knows her stuff. She’ll be able to give you plenty of good advice.’

‘OK,’ said Larry. He had other questions. About pain. About what exactly happened at the end. But the doctor was in a hurry and the questions would have to wait. He watched the car move up the drive with that big-car hum and crunch of gravel, then shut his eyes and turned his face to the sun. He was still struggling with the jet-lag. The previous evening, after speaking with Kirsty (‘Sure, sure. Everything’s just fine’), he had fallen into a profound sleep, only to wake two hours later and spend the remainder of the night listening to the labour of his heart and to his daughter mouth-breathing in the other bed. He knew he would be no use to anyone until he could relax, but he was working in a range of emotions the Xanax was not equipped for. He decided to run a bath. A long soak might unlace him a little, then perhaps he could nap for an hour and get some of this weight of sleep off his shoulders. He went back into the house, fetched his wash bag, and set off for the bathroom at the far end of the first-floor corridor. On the stairs – where he managed to avoid more than a fleeting glimpse of the PLEASE! spread – he met Ella and the reverend coming down. Evidently, Osbourne had shaved that morning without the use of a mirror. His throat was nicked and there was a little crust of dried shaving cream by his left ear. When Larry asked Ella what she wanted to do, she bunched her lips and shrugged. The reverend said he’d go into the garden with her and see whether there were any early cherries.

‘Got your inhaler, El?’ asked Larry.

She showed it to him.

‘OK.’ He tousled the girl’s hair. ‘Play nicely.’

On the landing, Alec was coming out of Alice’s room, pulling the door shut.

‘Una still with her?’ whispered Larry.

Alec nodded.

They moved away from the door towards the window that overlooked the garden.

‘What was she saying?’ asked Larry.

‘Una?’

‘Mum. All that French.’

‘A lot of things.’

‘Such as?’