‘I would often ask them to dress up as Delphine. I had some clothes of hers that I’d take along.’

‘Was that helpful?’

‘Sometimes. If their attitude was right or the scent they wore, then it worked. They were very sweet most of these women, you know. Very placid and modest. They had quite low expectations of what their lives might be. They were realistic. I tried to be kind to them in return. I believe they enjoyed it. I’d become a little more …’ He trailed off.

‘Proficient?’ Martha was smiling. ‘Over the years?’

‘Not for me to say.’

‘And what if the “attitude” as you call it was wrong?’

‘Yes. Well, on the bad days I just felt how unique Delphine was. How irreplaceable. It was awful. We would lie there naked and I would look at this stuff beside me that was just … flesh. Matter. Devoid of … anything. And then I felt appalled by myself. And by life.’

Anton was silent for a while, then stirred himself. ‘Some of the better times were when I used to ask them to act out one of the fantasies that Delphine and I had had.’

‘Excuse me! You didn’t ask these girls to pretend to be your lost lover but to be your lost lover pretending to be someone else?’

‘Yes.’ Anton looked down. He felt as though he had gone too far. ‘Well,’ he said eventually, ‘I suppose it does sound strange. As though not even the best lover imaginable was enough in herself, but only a gateway to something better, something perhaps archetypal. Or taboo.’ He smiled. ‘I feel I may have read something like this in my old philosophical studies. Plato, perhaps.’

‘You don’t have to try to make it respectable for me.’

‘I know. I was romantic as a young man. But I think in the end romantics hurt more people than sensualists. I don’t think they really understand or adore women in the right way. You need to love each fold of skin.’

‘And sensualists are capable of romance?’

‘They can be. And love, as well.’

There was another pause, while Anton weighed up how much more he could tell. Martha appeared unflappable, but he didn’t want to shock any sensibility that had not been toughened by her training.

‘I’d like to tell you something odd,’ he said. ‘You know Lena? The maid? The first time I caught sight of her outside the building, down by the lake, I thought for a moment she was Delphine. There was something in her walk, her bearing. It was more than just a superficial thing – the tilt of the head or a look in the eye. It was like a spirit reincarnated. I became quite obsessed. I’m sorry to say I followed her and her friend Johanna into town one day.’

‘That sounds rather—’

‘It’s all right. I didn’t persevere. They went into a house. I left them there and came back here alone.’

‘And do you still think she’s a … reincarnation?’