‘I rather thought not. You don’t allow yourself to fall in love.’ (He would not tell her that she had been watched at other times with other men.) ‘But you do go in for pleasure, I believe. Nobody gets hurt.’ Should he go on, or had he gone too far, too fast?

‘And?’ She gave nothing away.

‘You strayed from your norm with this one.’ He glanced at Claud. ‘Got hurt, probably. Feel responsible for him, perhaps?’

Bloody man, thought Laura, blast him, it all comes back, the struggle of a year exposed. She snapped, ‘What else?’ (What other truths would he dare to present her with?)

‘You never allowed yourself to marry or have children.’ He watched her face.

This self-confessed spy was aware of Nicholas and Emily yet she rather liked his open face with its honest grey eyes. He should have the guts to go on with the idiot game he had started. She hoped he was capable of hurdling the difficulties, or was he craven?

‘Is that all?’ she asked.

‘A précis.’

‘And?’

‘I hoped during the last year, which I have spent in the States, to forget you. When I got back I came down here looking for you. I have been and am obsessed by you.’ (Was she listening?)

Between them on the bed Claud emitted a porcine snort. Laura, pushing her thick hair back with one hand, leaned forward to stare at Claud. She said, ‘Yes?’

‘I didn’t expect to find you in these circumstances.’

‘No?’

‘Watching your ex-lover revive from a suicide attempt makes it rather harder to come out with a—an—er—’

‘What?’

(An offer, a suggestion, a proposition? What had he to offer?)

‘I thought you and I might—’

‘What?’

‘Love,’ said Martin. The word spoken out loud threatened them both.

Laura shrank into herself, drawing her knees up, hunching her shoulders as though a weight threatened to crush her.

Martin thought: We have here two failures, hers and mine. Could two failures constitute one success?

Laura said: ‘I would not suit you. I am emotionally parsimonious.’

‘Must it be so?’ Martin asked.

‘I am only half a person,’ Laura said gently, for he seemed an agreeable sort of man. Then she said: ‘I don’t think your train is getting us anywhere.’ Then more firmly she said, ‘I think I shall get off it now. I see no destination.’ Then she said, ‘Oh look—he is waking up.’

Claud had opened his eyes.

Claud, focusing on Laura, said, ‘Laura!’ in a surprised voice. ‘Great!’ and went back to sleep.

Martin thought Laura’s relief tangible. Her shoulders relaxed, she sighed, smiled, shook herself. ‘The longer he sleeps, the better,’ she said. ‘He’s okay now.’

Martin felt he must recapture her attention. While Claud slept she had at least listened. He asked sourly, ‘What happens when he finally surfaces?’