‘Gallons of tea and aspirin, and a boiling bath with ammonia in it. Could you organise that?’ She got to her feet. ‘Lord, I am stiff.’ She rubbed her knees, stretched.

‘Why the hell should I? He is your lover.’ Martin’s rage bubbled up. ‘Is that what you have been planning,’ he shouted, ‘while we have been sitting here? Why should I organise his bath? He’s nothing to do with me, he’s yours. I thought you were worrying whether he was going to die of alcoholic poisoning, that you were feeling remorse, minding about the stupid sod.’

‘All right, don’t run his bath,’ said Laura equably. ‘I was worried. I was thinking while we played trains and so on that it would not be too awful if he did die.’ She had shed her concerned appearance. She looked as he had first seen her in Clug’s company, relaxed, distant, self-contained and bloody attractive. Martin drew in his breath. ‘I must tell Mavis—or perhaps you would, oh no, you won’t, will you—to buy him another wastepaper basket, for he will destroy most of that.’ Laura pointed to the typescript on the desk. ‘Then he will carry on with his next book and life with Lydia. And it will be all to do again,’ she said. ‘Next time, next book, next rotten review, you’ll see.’

‘I shan’t see, I shan’t be here,’ said Martin loudly.

Laura did not appear to hear. ‘I shall apologise to Ann for lumbering her with such a dodgy lodger and she will defend him. She will make it clear that his behaviour is in some way my fault, that no good comes of an affair between a very young man and a woman old enough to be his mother, that I am to blame for this little caper. The same goes for Margaret. Oh,’ Laura swept her hair back from her face with both hands as her voice sank to a whisper, ‘I thought that if he should die, I would be free of him, but you can only get free of live people, that’s what resuscitation is about.’ She began to tremble.

Martin pushed her gently down on the edge of the bed and sat beside her.

They sat with their backs to Claud. Martin pretended not to see tears pouring from Laura’s eyes, dripping off her chin onto the black cotton jersey. He took her hand and held it. He said, ‘Let’s get back on the train for a bit.’

‘All right.’ She leaned sideways away from him and wiped her face on the sheet. Claud might not have been there. She stopped crying.

Martin said, ‘Did you seduce him or did he seduce you?’ He was painfully jealous.

‘I came up the ladder one day and got into bed with him. There was an element of surprise. It’s getting light outside, look, little pinkish clouds.’

‘Go on.’