“I’ve never lied to you, Moyra, you know that.” He reached out to touch her but she slapped his hand away, finished wiping her face with a tissue.

“Where’s the car, George?”

“It was stolen, I don’t know where it is.”

She picked up her hairbrush. “It wasn’t here, George. You came home that night without it. I remember because your hair was wet, you said it was raining.” She turned to him while she brushed her hair, slowly. “Is it in the lock-up? They’re going to get you because of that bloody car . . . They can plant evidence, you know, and they’re out to get you.”

“What did they say?”

“The bath’ll run over.”

“What did they say?”

“Maybe they’ve already found it, I dunno. I’ve got my own problems. They’ll get me just for doing a few manicures.” She threw the brush down on the dressingtable and stormed into the bathroom. Marlow picked up the brush and began to run it through his hair.

Peter looked around the efficiency. It was clean and close to the building yard. The best thing was the rent, a hundred a week. He had paid the landlady up front for a month. Dumping his suitcase without bothering to unpack, he went straight out again, arriving outside Marianne’s just after breakfast. He watched from a distance until Marianne’s husband had taken Joey to school, then rang the bell.

Marianne offered her cheek, which he kissed, and coffee, which he accepted. She tidied the breakfast dishes into the dishwasher and sat opposite him at the kitchen table.

“I’ve moved, so if you need me, here’s my new address,” he told her.

“Oh, so it didn’t work out with the policewoman?”

“No, it didn’t.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Really? Because I won’t be able to have Joey to stay? Well, wrong, because he can stay with me for as long as need be.”

Marianne unfolded the small note of his address and got up to pin it on the notice-board. He sipped his lukewarm coffee and asked, “How are you?”

“I’m fine. Do you want toast?”

“No. I want to know if this new baby’s mine. Is it?”

“What?”

“Come on, don’t mess me around. I got the sort of nudge, nudge when you came round, so tell me the truth. Is it mine?”

“Well, of course not, don’t be ridiculous!”

“That afternoon, it could have been mine, couldn’t it?”

“No, I’m too far gone. I must have been pregnant, or just . . . Look, Pete, that was a stupid mistake, and I don’t know why I let it happen. I’m sorry if by going to bed with you that one time I let you think . . .”

“Wait, wait! I don’t think anything, I just wanted to know for sure, and now I do, I’ll go.”