They discussed the home, the facilities, the cost, the medical care. The sun shone outside on the pond with the trellis around it and on the motionless old lady beside it. An elderly man wandered rather aimlessly into the lounge, saw Mrs Beale and Harry and came over to them at once.

‘Good afternoon my dear,’ he said to Mrs Beale, ‘lovely day.’ He looked expectantly at the visitor, someone new to talk to.

Harry’s jaw dropped. ‘Good God!’ he said and his voice caught in his throat. He stood up quickly.

Mrs Beale laughed. ‘If I had fifty pence,’ she said, ‘for every time someone has walked in here and said Good God because they met someone they’d worked with I could retire to Florida. Well – actors always know each other, don’t they!’

The old man stood there for a moment, quite still. And then he said courteously to Harry, ‘My name is Roger Popham. Have we worked together perhaps? You must forgive me, I forget things, it’s one of the disadvantages of getting old.’

‘Oh yes!’ said Mrs Beale. ‘You remember what you want to remember Roger Popham, I know you!’

Harry recovered almost immediately. ‘I think we must have met somewhere,’ he said. ‘But years and years and years ago. Harry Donaldson.’ And the two men shook hands politely, but Harry’s hand was shaking.

‘Well Roger,’ and Mrs Beale stood up again, ‘perhaps you’d like to show Mr Donaldson around, he’s interested in Copperfield Hall, tell him about the place, tell him what ogres we are.’

The old man nodded, politely held Mrs Beale’s chair away from her. ‘Delighted, delighted,’ he said smiling at her. ‘There will be no ogre stories from me however. We are very lucky here,’ he said to Harry, ‘as you will see for yourself when I escort you around these hallowed halls. Though I must say you look like a very young man to me, hardly yet in the need of the services of our esteemed Mrs Beale and her staff.’

Mrs Beale laughed again. ‘He always talks like that,’ she said to Harry, ‘it’s all that Shakespeare he used to do,’ and Harry saw how fond she was of him. ‘I’ll see you before you go Mr Donaldson,’ she said and she bustled away.

‘I have done very little Shakespeare actually,’ said the old man, ‘but when I was young we all talked like this, that’s what actors sounded like in those days! Sometimes I quote a bit of Romeo and Juliet to her just to keep her happy,’ and his eyes twinkled mischievously. ‘Blame Noël Coward and Johnny Gielgud.’

‘Did you work with them?’ They wandered out into the hall and up some stairs.

‘Oh I knew Noël slightly, as did all the pretty young men of my time. Now here the bedrooms begin, they are small but perfectly formed as you will see.’