Indeed she would, he thought. So, of course, would mine. He thought of her stepping out of the house at that moment, carefully pulling the door tight shut behind her, her hands in grey woollen gloves, her coat collar pulled up high against the sharp wind that blew always in the spring.

Clara touched his hand. ‘You’ve gone away,’ she said.

‘Not far. Only to the Glens of Antrim. Do you think it’ll have changed in three weeks?’

‘For God’s sake, that place up there hasn’t changed in three hundred years.’

‘You’re so full of bloody prejudice.’

‘At least I admit it.’

He grimaced. ‘What did you say your doctor’s name is?’ he asked, changing the subject.

‘ “Doctor”. That’s what I call him. I’ve called him that since I was fifteen. I’ll probably call him that for ever.’

‘He must have a name. Everyone has a name.’

‘I always forget. He has such a silly name I expunge it from my mind.’

‘More prejudice.’

‘ “Doctor” suits him fine. You know, I used to think, after Dad died that he might become Mother’s toy boy. One of those silly fantasies. She was only fifty and I hated to see her alone. I know that lots of people resent their parents finding new partners, but it would have been really handy to have him factored into our lives. I think we’d all have been pleased. Even Dad from beyond the grave. She would have had him to look after and that would have taken her mind off me.’

He was shocked. He was thinking of his mother, her almost ghostlike fragility. To him she had always been an old woman; the same age now as she had been when he was at school, when he first met Caitlin, when Moya was born. Without really ever thinking about it he had known that she was pure as the Virgin Mary had been pure, his own conception probably immaculate. In other words, he mused somewhat sourly to himself, he had never thought very much about her.

Clara was laughing. ‘Have I shocked you? Lookit here, you shouldn’t be shocked by me. I just say these things off the top of my head. I didn’t really mean that. I invented it at that moment. Just thought of it then. I do that all the time. Instant stories. All you’re meant to do is laugh.’

‘I’m not very good at laughing. I’m not good at discovering what is a joke and what is not. Caitlin pointed that out to me many times.’

‘His name is Ivan.’ Her voice was gentle. ‘Such a name to burden any child with. I refuse to call anyone Ivan, unless of course they’re Russian. Yes. I’d have to do it then. Wouldn’t I?’

He smiled nervously. ‘You do have funny notions.’

‘So when do you intend to go?’