I must say, he and the dog went quietly when I woke them both as the credits rolled and sent them on their way, out into the rain. I did feel enough anxiety on their behalf to shove my umbrella into his hand at the door.

‘Take it. Take it.’ I remember saying that. I don’t remember what he said, but he took it and put it up and they splashed down the path to the gate. I do hope he found his way back to that dismal hotel. Awful to be found drowned in a pothole halfway down Killiney Hill Road.

I must unroll myself and crawl out of bed. Each day I try to do it earlier than the day before and with more dexterity. That thought makes me open my eyes a fraction more and look at my watch – my rich gold watch. I saw that Laurence person eyeing it. One day when i am really better I will throw it away. Drop it in the sea perhaps or better still, place it face up on the railway line and stand and watch while the Dart or the Wexford Express scrunches it into a thousand small expensive pieces. It’s the only watch I’ve ever had, since I was a child that is. Then I seem to remember a Mickey Mouse watch, those long accusatory fingers saying, ‘Late again, Clara,’ so often that I stopped wearing one as I grew up, preferring to be late without guilt.

‘You’ll be late for your own funeral.’ I can hear James’s slightly high-pitched drawl, amused, a touch angry too, and, I thought, loving, as he took the watch from his wrist and clasped it round mine. It was heavy and warm and I thought I would wear it for a few days and then return it to him, warm also from my body and he would love that warmth.

Nothing ever happens the way we plan.

I must get up. I must not dwell on such debilitating thoughts. I suppose being old will be like this; the awful care with which you have to make those first movements after waking; wondering when will the pain start and will it be grand agony or just the small niggling kind; which elbow can I lean on today without causing the cramps in my belly to activate themselves? All something to look forward to, I dare say. This must be a rehearsal for the future.

As I punch my pillows into some sort of supportive shape i wonder what James said to his wife about his watch. It is the sort of watch that you can’t help noticing and also therefore, you can’t help noticing the absence of it on a person’s wrist. The heavy plaited gold strap embraced his bony wrist as if it were made for it. I wonder what lie he told her when she asked about its absence. I’m sure, whatever it was, it came trippingly off his tongue. Maybe, of course, he just went out and bought himself another one, so she will never have noticed. He had more money than sense, that was for sure, and more charming deceit than any other man I have ever known.