He has deceived me, she thought. And where is the apology, his making an account of himself? Where is his truth and courage? The remaining hours of the day with Charles were something to be passed through so that she could go back to her real life. She felt peaceful, as if a tight string inside her had been cut. He came and stood beside her and she looked up at him coldly.

‘Let’s get out of here.’ His face was twisted as if having eaten something sour. ‘I feel a sense of pollution. You’re welcome to my coat as well as your own, if you like – but I can’t stand being in here.’

‘Is it too powerful for you, all that beauty?’ she asked, her sarcasm unmistakeable. She had a feeling of certainty, of triumph. ‘So much more powerful than the words of any sermon you could come up with?’

‘What can you mean?’ he snapped as they stepped outside. ‘The place looks like a . . . a bordello.’

The door thudded closed behind them. It was still raining, though less heavily. He was hurrying her now, furiously, the hand once more grasping her elbow.

‘Charles . . .’ She stopped. ‘For the last time, would you please let go of my arm?’

‘Yes.’ He seemed to recollect himself. They were turning into a street of terraced houses. Observatory Street, she read. ‘In any case – we are all but here.’

He stopped in front of a simple two-up-two-down house and rapped on the wood.

There was a pause, then a sound of muffled movement before the door swung open and a stooped little woman with a crushed, suspicious-looking face appeared, dressed entirely in black, a grubby apron tied at her waist.

‘Yes?’ She seemed crotchety at being disturbed.

‘Grandmother – Elsie – it’s me, Charles. Edward and Jane’s boy. I’ve come for a visit – with my friend, Margaret. It’s been such a long time – and such a pleasure to see you!’

Margaret saw a flicker of something in the old lady’s eyes which she could not decipher. She did not break into happy greetings but instead said cagily, ‘What is it you want?’

Charles laughed, seeming baffled by this question. ‘Just to see you, Grandma. Is that such a strange thing?’

The woman did not look unconvinced that it was in fact rather strange, but faced by a member of her own flesh and blood, after a moment she shuffled backwards and held the door wider.

‘You’d better come in then.’

Forty-Eight

Forty-Eight

It was a cramped little house and once the front door was closed, the narrow hall was almost in darkness except for a crack of light from a room further along. They seemed to be treading on a gritty linoleum, though it was too dark to make out anything much.

‘Come through,’ Elsie Barber said, shuffling ahead of them. She had the painful, rocking gait of someone with bad hips.