As the warm gold of dawn began to spill over the rooftops, he fetched up on the suburban street where he had first met Vic. In the euphoria of exhaustion, the front door seemed to glow. He stumbled onto the doorstep and knocked, with no doubt in his heart.

After a minute, Ellen opened the door. Her face was blotchy and her eyes were swollen. Nonetheless, in the tender light of the new day, she was beautiful.

“You took your time,” she said, looking him up and down.

“Sorry about that. Your dad told me to stay away.”

Her face quivered. “Do you know where he is?”

“I heard a few things. I heard… ”

“No.” She closed her eyes. “Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”

An unstoppable yawn convulsed his face. Her lips twitched.

“Am I keeping you up?”

“I’ve been walking for six hours,” he admitted.

“Then I suppose you’d better come in.”

The house had the special silence of mourning. She took his hand and led him upstairs to a sterile room with a double bed and a shiny paisley counterpane.

“You can sleep here,” he heard her say, and then he was falling into the infinite softness of sleep.

He woke several hours later to find Ellen sitting on the edge of the bed watching him. A soft blanket lay over him. A mug of coffee was on the bedside table. He was no longer wearing his shoes.

“You were out like a light,” she said.

His mouth was dry and sour. The coffee was delicious. He took two mouthfuls to moisten his tongue.

“I want to look after you,” he said.

“That’s funny. I’ve been looking after you.”

“I mean it. I want to take care of you. I’m earning a lot of money now. I want to spend all of it on you.”

She was watching the steam pouring off the top of his coffee. He waited to see if she would speak.

“I’m doing well,” he said. “Really well. I’m in line for… ”

“Don’t tell me.”

“But do you believe me when I say I’m doing well?”

She looked at his coat, his shoes, his watch. “I believe you.”

“So is there any chance?”

Silence. He could see she wasn’t convinced. At the same time, she was really thinking about it, there really was a chance.

“My dad,” she said at last.

“I know he didn’t like me.”

“Didn’t?”

“Oh, God. Doesn’t, doesn’t, I’m sorry.”

“You don’t know, though, do you? Didn’t. Doesn’t. Neither of us know. We might never know. We wouldn’t be a normal couple.”

“Of course we’d be a normal couple. I’d love us to be normal. You don’t have to, you know, meet my colleagues. We’d go to the pictures and go out for dinner and spend days at the seaside and maybe if you like me enough we might get married. We’d have a house and kids. The only difference is, we’d have money. More money than anyone our age has any right to expect.”