“The thing is, I don’t know if he meant it. It was almost as if he regretted it as soon as he’d said it, as if he’d surprised himself as much as me. His face sort of froze.”

Phyllis’s mouth curled into a smile. “And what did yours do?”

“I suppose mine froze too.”

Phyllis looked at me, her eyes full of mischief. “Maybe his freezing was a response to yours freezing. Maybe yours froze first.”

I met her gaze and we both burst out laughing.

“But I don’t know what he expected,” I protested when we’d pulled ourselves together. “We’d been apart for months. I’d been seeing Harry, not that that was going to continue.”

“So, what exactly did you say?” She examined my face. “I mean, I presume you actually said something. You didn’t just grab your passport and do a runner.”

Which reminded me, I thought, I’d better not forget to hand in that passport I’d found floating in the river. I could feel it still in my pocket. I told Phyllis and asked her to remind me.

“I will, but don’t change the subject,” she said again sternly. “What did you say?”

“I told him I’d need a bit of time and he said that was fine. He seemed almost relieved …”

“And neither of you have mentioned it since?”

“Exactly.”

“But you were together last night, weren’t you? Or did I imagine seeing you getting into his car when you left the pub?” She gave me a shrewd look.

Typical Phyllis, I thought, she’d been watching us from her flat. I reddened. “Yes. It just seemed the natural thing to do.”

“Well, doesn’t that tell you anything? I agree he’s a wee bit impenetrable, Molloy. And that can’t be easy but …”

There was a knock on the window of the Mini and I jumped. I think we both did, immersed as we were in our counseling session. I wound down the window and Liam peered in, umbrella over his head.

“That meeting’s been postponed for an hour. It’s at five now.”

We climbed out of the car and made our way across the square with Liam. Phyllis gave my arm a little squeeze as we walked along, a silent acknowledgement of what we’d been discussing.

Liam and I left the bookseller at her flooded shop, watching as she opened the door and stood for a few seconds on the threshold as if to steady herself, before embarking determinedly across the shop floor, like a huge cruise ship, wading through the brown water. Fred looked mournfully down at her from the top step.

“Are you okay?” I called after her. She’d left the door open.

She waved without turning around. “Not a bother. Don’t worry about me. Once my books are safe, I’m happy. Close the door for me, will you?”