“That’s nice,” and then, “That’s the fourth bomb this week.” She opened a cupboard, separating some dresses. The hangers grated as they grated every morning when she rose to paint and poked about for something to wear. Once, removing the pillow from his face, Wavery asked, “Why not decide before going to bed?”

“Because I don’t know if I’ll wake up feeling fat or thin, ugly or pretty.”

She drew out a crimson alpaca shawl. “I hate this place.”

“Only three weeks now.”

“Why haven’t we heard. I suppose you still haven’t heard?”

Wavery shook his head. “They have other things to think about.” There was the Gulf. There was South Africa. There were the French farmers. “Lisbon’s not that important. They’ll probably tell me in London.”

“Did you ring Personnel Department?”

“I left a message. I couldn’t get through to Dewsnap.”

“Again?”

“He’ll ring tomorrow, I’m sure.”

“Bloody Foreign Office. They send you to the end of the world and then take the phone off the hook.”

“It’s my bread and butter, Penny.”

“But look at the way they treat you.” She threw the metal hanger onto the bed and walked to the window. “I look out at this fog and I wish I was in bed with a bear.”

He said, “Have I time for a bath?”

“She wants us at eight.”

“Not even a small one?” But he didn’t insist. He telephoned Antonio. “Antonio, don’t bother with that drink.” He changed into a pair of flannel trousers folded on a chair beside her easel. In the cupboard he found a shirt and a jacket.

“You’re not serious?” she said. “That shirt. With that jacket?”

He felt stupid. “Why not? The jacket’s Harris tweed. And you gave me the shirt.”

“I may have bought it, but I didn’t expect you to wear it with a jacket like that.” She left the room and Wavery dressed. He was not interested in clothes. All his work went into the initial purchase. Once he had made the effort to buy something good, he felt it had to look after itself on him, an attitude which annoyed Penny.

Her unhappiness tonight upset Wavery. He tried to conjure away the moment, hoping it was dust on the needle. But he knew it was more than dust. Long ago Penny had parted company with the young woman he had sat down beside on a Cambridge floor. Wavery was different too. In earlier days he would have had his bath come what may.

Afterwards, Wavery told himself: had he insisted on his bath, they would have left the house in Monterrico fifteen minutes later and the evening would have been no different from a thousand such evenings.