Right then, Laura thought, I shall play second fiddle. Playing second fiddle to a fictional character has a certain originality. Having made this decision Laura was almost back to her old self.

Laura applied herself now to Nicholas and Emily; if she filled her days with their needs, she could keep her nights free for Claud. Past experience had taught her that one way of coping with complex feelings for her relations was to tidy their house; this somehow reduced them to manageable size. Out with the dust would go her guilt, and if like dust it reappeared that was the nature of things, though she always hoped there would somehow be less dust than before.

Finishing her attack on the garden, she planned what she would do to the house; there must be an awful lot of rubbish she could throw out. She would make life easier for Mrs Datchett when she came back. But first she tackled her own rooms. The organised chaos which had origins in adolescent protest no longer amused; she packed up cracked, chipped but valuable china for Claud’s stall and replaced it with new things from Woolworths. She cleaned out cupboards, scrubbed, dusted and polished, reduced her possessions to a minimum. A lot of things went straight onto the bonfire. She excised objects of personal interest; the rooms must be functional, no more. She had allowed too much to accumulate since building the brick partition; there must be as little left of her self as possible. The cat picked its way about the rearranged rooms in disgust but Claud, arriving each evening to eat supper, sit drinking by the fire before taking her to bed, was in such a state of euphoria over his book that he did not notice the changes. Laura was glad of this; it reduced his hold.

Hearing the sound of the Hoover Nicholas and Emily rose from their bed and, wrapped in dressing-gowns, looked down at Laura working in the hall. They were recovering from their flu but since the weather continued icy they prolonged their convalescence. Laura could look after them.

Emily said: ‘Look at the dear girl, she is spring-cleaning. Were we as dirty as all that?’

‘It’s a sign of emotional disturbance, most hausfraus are neurotic. D’you think something has upset her?’ joked her brother.

‘Or somebody. Have you done the whole house?’ Emily shouted above the hum of the machine.

‘Almost. Bonzo has worked his hair into everything and it gathers in drifts in dark corners.’ Laura looked up. ‘Are you better?’ she asked as the Hoover moaned to a stop. ‘Have you taken your temperatures?’

‘Normal,’ said Emily. ‘Come back to bed, Nicholas.’

‘There’s a parcel of books for you to review,’ Laura called, ‘if you want to read.’

‘Bring them up when you bring our elevenses.’ Nicholas trailed after Emily. ‘When shall we tell her our plan?’ he asked.