‘I can’t tonight, but let me talk to him. It’d be great to meet some other time.’

‘Come on, baby, don’t be shy about this. We’ll be at La Bohème from eight on. Drag the guy around and let’s have a look at him. You don’t need to stay, just have a glass of wine if you like.’

‘Not tonight. Maybe next week. I’ll talk to him about it. He doesn’t like going out much.’

‘OK, whatever. Just don’t forget that the world exists. It’s not one of those secret things, is it? You’re not involved in a third-party sort of situation, are you?’

I laughed. The confidence in my laughter must have reassured her.

‘Nothing like that at all, I promise. Just getting to know each other.’

She looked relieved.

‘Great. There are some real jerks around.’

‘As if I didn’t know.’

‘Food!’

Interruption. Dislocation of thought.

‘Clara?’

Yes yes yes.

‘Yes.’

Click. Double click.

Click.

cccccllllmm.

‘Coming.’

‘If I were rich …’

The chicken had been remarkably good and all the little accoutrements that went with it, herby, garlicky, were better than she could have managed. In fact, if the truth were to be told, she’d probably have settled for a ham sandwich and a bowl of soup.

‘If you were rich?’ Lar prompted her.

‘I would have a wonderful Italian housekeeper, who would cook me fattening, comforting meals and iron my sheets. “Signora Clara,” she would call me, and she would always be there, cherishing me.’

‘A slave.’

She giggled.

‘Perhaps. We would both love each other though. She would manifest her love through the medium of food and brushing my hair. I love that, someone brushing my hair, until it crackles with electricity and flies out from my head in a big swirl. And I would manifest my love for her by saying things to her like, “Oh Caterina, how could I ever live without you?” ’

‘It seems to me that she wouldn’t come out of the arrangement very well.’

‘It’s just a dream.’

‘Not much of a dream.’

‘Maybe not. It gives me the odd little chuckle of pleasure though. I sometimes feel I’m going to see the very woman passing me in the street one day. When I do I will shout, “I need you,” at her and see what happens.’

‘I met your mother in the street. In Dalkey, when I was doing the shopping.’

‘And you recognised her?’

‘Well, she recognised me really. She bought me a cup of coffee. Two cups.’

‘What did you talk about?’

‘Just this and that. She’s a very nice lady. She could brush your hair for you.’

‘She used to,’ Clara told him. ‘I ran away from that a long time ago. I bet she winkled your entire life history out of you, the half-hour version.’

‘Sort of.’