‘The tea’s on the shelf over the Aga,’ her voice called from the next room. Clara’s voice, he had to remind himself, not Caitlin’s voice. Her voice was becoming muddy in his head. Though he heard it so frequently, he was no longer sure if he was hearing it correctly. Had it been lower? Higher? Softer? Had her vowels sounded longer or shorter? Had she really rolled her Rs with a slight French twang? Her voice was breaking up in his head. What did this mean?

He took the tea caddy from the shelf and put two spoons of tea into the pot. The kettle was heavy and he leaned it forward and the steaming water poured in an arc on top of the tea-leaves.

‘It does not mean that I am forgetting you. It’s just …’ He tilted the kettle back again and then pushed it to one side of the hot ring.

‘Just what?’

Clara was standing at the table behind him.

‘I’m sorry to interrupt your conversation. I heard nothing but silence and I thought you might have dropped dead or something. Bring the pot in. I have cups and milk in here.’

Teapot in hand he followed her into the sitting room. She lay down on the sofa and pulled a rug up over her legs.

‘You talk to yourself a lot,’ she said. ‘I’ve noticed that. Perhaps not yourself, but some person sitting in your head. I do too, I have to say, but I quite enjoy it. I can make myself laugh. You don’t seem to enjoy it.’

There were mugs on the table and milk in a flowered jug and a plate of shortbread.

He frowned.

He poured tea into one mug and pushed it over towards her.

She held up her hand like a policeman. ‘I’ll wait a few minutes. I like my tea dark brown and almost solid. I bet you only put one spoon in.’

‘Two.’

‘I’ll wait a while. Sit down.’

He sat down, slightly anxiously it seemed, on the edge of an armchair, his cup held before him as if for protection.

‘Talk to me,’ she said. ‘I have become too self-absorbed. I spend too much time feeling sorry for myself.’

‘I have nothing to say. She always spoke for me.’

‘Caitlin?’

‘I was brought up to keep my thoughts to myself. Figures, calculations, configurations, mathematical and geometric excavations. Those are the things I carry in my head. There aren’t too many people who become excited when you talk that sort of stuff to them. “Smile at everyone and keep your mouth buttoned.” My father said that once to me. That is how he has always behaved. Even, I think, with his oldest friends. No one spoke much. I have no idea what goes on in his head, or my mother’s. I don’t know what they say to each other when they are alone. I do have to say though that they are circumspect and kindly people.’

He took a drink of tea and put his cup down on the table. Without thinking he took a piece of shortbread and chewed at it. Glints of sugar clung to his lips.