When Bonzo rushed barking at a man coming round the side of the house she automatically shouted: ‘Die—’ and Bonzo stopped in his tracks, growling. She said, ‘Who is it?’

The man said, ‘Laura, it’s me, Claud,’ and Laura jumped into his arms.

‘Oh Laura, Laura, how delicious you smell, woodsmoke and pepper. I saw your car in the town. I was venturing to bring you your share of the stall money and hoping you would be pleased. I brought you crumpets. Are you cross? Are you glad to see me? It is so long since—’

‘Why should I be cross?’

‘You looked so happy by your fire in the twilight. Have you noticed the sunset, the red sky? And your red trousers and bright jersey, so happy alone I feared to interrupt. Is he going to bite me?’

‘No, no. Stop sniffing and growling, Bonzo, stop.’

‘And I have to tell you the good news about my book.’

‘Is it finished?’

‘No, but it will be. I have pared it down to the bare jokes. Can I kiss you again?’

‘Of course. Come in, tell me all your news. Listen, while I settle Emily and Nicholas for the night, will you care for my fire and toast the crumpets?’

‘Are they ill?’ (She did not notice my joke.)

‘Flu, that’s all. Then we can sit by the fire and have tea. What time is it?’

‘About six. This dog makes me nervous; he looks hungrily at my legs.’

‘His little way. I will take him up to Nick and Em. Come, Bonzo.’ Bonzo followed Laura, grumbling. ‘And when we’ve had tea,’ she said over her shoulder, ‘we can go to bed.’

‘And I can read you my book.’

‘And that, too,’ said Laura. ‘Or you could read it to me after, that would be even nicer.’

While Laura, tired from her exertions in the garden, changed her clothes, Claud made tea and toasted crumpets.

‘I have brought you your share of money for the things you gave me for my stall,’ he said. ‘I was planning to give it to your mother, or ask her to give me your address in London so that I could send it you.’

Laura squatted on the hearthrug. ‘I am stiff,’ she said. ‘Unused muscles ache.’ She took the envelope of money. ‘I see that Nicholas and Emily have contributed to your trade; they seem to have bought back a lot of things.’ She opened the envelope, counted the money.

‘Are they mad?’ Claud buttered the crumpets.

‘Not mad, naughty. What a lot of money!’ Laura poured tea, drank. ‘This is good, I need it. What an astute business man you have become,’ she teased.

‘I enjoy my stall apart from your relations’ visitations.’ Claud had half-expected Laura to refuse the money, tell him to keep it since the stock it represented was back if not in the attic, at least in the Old Rectory; he was after all a struggling artist. But Laura gave no hint of doing so.