‘I don’t really sleep very well. I have dreams that I don’t want to have. I keep struggling to wake up and I can’t. It’s as if someone is holding my eyes closed and then dragging these scenes across the inside of my eyelids. Terrible scenes of …’ He stopped. He put his hand up to his mouth to stop the words falling out.

There was a long silence. Clara could hear the rain flooding the gutters and the distant sound of cars on the main road.

‘Look,’ she said eventually, ‘I think you should go back to your hotel, pack up and check out. You can come and stay here for a few days. Both of you. You wouldn’t have to keep Pansy in the car then. Just a few days, mind you. I have a little spare room upstairs.’ She pointed towards the ceiling. ‘Perhaps you might sleep better there. Hotels are so, I don’t know. Horribly empty.’

He didn’t say anything. She leant forward and nudged his knee with a hand.

‘Yes, Lar,’ she said. ‘How are you doing?’

He smiled.

‘It’s very kind of you, but …’

‘But me no buts. I’m not coming on at you, I promise you that.’

His face went pink. He shook his head.

‘Nor, of course, do I want to force you to do something that you don’t want to do. Why don’t you go away and think about it? Consult Pansy. I bet she’d prefer it here. Then, either come back with your things or don’t. As you see fit. OK?’

He got up.

He snapped his fingers and Pansy moved unwillingly from her place by the Aga. Her claws clicked on the tiled floor as she walked over to him. She stood looking up into his face, her tongue lolling from the side of her mouth.

‘It’s a very kind suggestion. Very. We’ll give it serious consideration, won’t we, girl?’

He snapped his fingers again and left the kitchen, Pansy clicking by his side.

‘Take the umbrella,’ Clara called after them.

Der Frühling will kommen,

der Frühling meine Freud’;

nun mach’ich mich fertig,

zum Wandern bereit.

Itchy feet.

Perhaps, perhaps I can anchor myself here.

Who was it said ‘apply the seat of the pants to the seat of the chair’ – something like that? Will I be able to persuade the itch in the feet to become the itch in the fingers? Let them do the wandering. For a while anyway, just until I can stand up straight, run if need be, laugh. For God’s sake, I have to be able to laugh before I go wandering again!

Switch on.

cccllmmm.

Your friendly Mac is now at your service.

Your service. Fonts, files, disks, folders, mouse, all at your disposal, waiting for the clicks and double clicks. Smiling at you. Please smile back. Please click.

Put the first mark on that endless page, a page that isn’t a page but a door, opening into mysterious space. Place your mark with caution, because this may be a road of pain that you don’t want to travel along.