‘Marty never really fitted in. Too … tightly buttoned. Always a bit of a loner. I’m not sure he’s ever been really happy. The last few times I’ve seen him, I’ve got the impression he’s … adrift. There’s no one in his life. Never has been, as far as I know. And he’s retired now, of course, so he doesn’t see many people from day to day. It’s not a good way to end up.’

‘How many people lived in the house?’

‘Oh, six or seven. It was difficult to keep track with all the boyfriends and girlfriends who came and went.’

To avoid giving the impression he was obsessed with Caldwell, Nick threw in another name he’d heard mentioned. ‘Miranda Cushing was one of your co-tenants as well, wasn’t she?’

‘Yeah. But that was before she set her sights on higher things.’ Those higher things had eventually taken Miranda Cushing into Parliament, where she’d outraged Caro and April by voting in favour of the Iraq invasion. Tony Blair had rewarded her with a junior ministerial post and later a peerage. Caro and April had rewarded her with withering accusations of treachery and warmongering. Nick had never met the woman, but he’d certainly heard a lot about her, whether he wanted to or not.

‘And Marty? Was he a good friend of … my father?’

April started with surprise. ‘Christ, Nicky, it’s a lot of years since you mentioned him.’

‘I know. But I’m an orphan now. It makes you think.’

‘Only a child can be an orphan. Besides, luckily for you, you’ve still got me. And I’m not going anywhere any time soon. So come over here and give me a hug.’

And so, Nick didn’t fail to notice, another question was dodged.

Half an hour later, as Nick was preparing to leave, he decided to chance one last enquiry about Martin Caldwell. ‘There was something he said to me after the funeral that I can’t quite remember. About the house you all lived in in Exeter. He still lives in the city, doesn’t he?’

‘Yeah.’ April seemed to debate with herself whether to expand on the point, then decided to go for it. ‘The daft bugger doesn’t just live in Exeter, Nicky. He lives in the house we all shared. Well, in a flat in it, anyway. The same fucking house. Can you believe it?’

That was it. That was what Caldwell had slipped into their brief conversation. ‘Maybe he wants to be reminded of his student past.’

‘If you ask me, he wants to live in his student past. Which is plain unhealthy.’

‘You think so?’

‘We all have to move with the current, Nicky. That’s what living is. And that’s what I’m trying to do, as best I can.’