‘It’s a consequence of mutability,’ Frejah said. ‘A minor one. Everyone on the island is affected by it in the same way, so it never matters. Almost every clock, timepiece and digital gadget is synchronized to a central chronometer. They automatically update when it’s needed. If you’re ever unsure of the time there are public clocks in every street, but your watch is just as reliable.’

‘How can the time on Dearth ever be objectively accurate? If it’s constantly changing, does it fall out of synchronization with other islands, with other parts of the world?’

‘Who knows?’ she said. ‘If it’s out of synch with other places, it makes no practical difference unless you’re actually there. But when you travel anywhere you always use local time.’

‘I have to catch a train tomorrow morning,’ I said. ‘It’s supposed to leave at 10.30 a.m. What happens if the clocks change between now and then?’

‘That’s the sleeper service to Tristcontenta? The changes in time have no effect. The train will leave when the clocks say 10.30.’ She drained the rest of her glass. ‘Just rely on your watch and turn up at the station in the usual way. You should be more worried about the food on the train.’

‘The food is awful,’ I said. ‘A real problem.’

‘It’ll be worse tomorrow. Most of the train company’s onboard chefs have gone on strike, and so are the people who refill the vending machines in the train corridors. If you want to eat, take your own food.’

‘How could I do that?’ I said. I was suddenly filled with dread: the two-day journey took on the aspect of a nightmare.

‘The hotel would prepare some meal packs. The strikes are a regular problem on the trains, so the hotel has a carry-out service for travellers.’

‘Expensive, though?’

‘Without a doubt. But beautifully prepared.’ She put down her empty wineglass and stood up. I did too, feeling unsteady. ‘On the other hand,’ she said. ‘A thought has occurred to me. You’re presumably heading for the airport. I’m planning to drive to the north part of the island tomorrow, and could almost certainly get you to the Hub the next day, in time for your flight. There are at least two flights to Salay in the evenings.’

‘That would a terrible imposition on you,’ I said. ‘I couldn’t possibly—’

‘Of course you could. It’s a long drive, and I’d welcome some company. Once out of the city and beyond the mountains the road is dull. I’d enjoy having a passenger. I know of several restaurants on the way, and there are a couple of good enough places to stay about halfway along.’

I continued to protest mildly, but also half heartedly, because an alternative to that interminable train journey was tempting.