The egg boiled, and Elspeth sat down to eat it. Matthew sat at the table opposite her. He was jumpy – she could tell that. And this nervousness increased until the telephone rang and he shot up from his chair to answer it.

It was his lawyer. ‘I’ve spoken to Lesley Kerr,’ she said. ‘And she’s drawn my attention – quite properly – to an issue with that place. She’s worried that the sellers have done something to the flat.’

‘But of course they have,’ said Matthew. ‘They’ve decorated it really well. And the kitchen was beautifully done up. That Clive Christian person – really very swish.’

‘Not that,’ said the lawyer. ‘She said that they had removed a wall.’

Matthew was silent.

‘Are you still there?’ asked the lawyer.

‘Yes. But people remove walls, don’t they?’

‘They do. But you have to remember something: Moray Place is listed. It’s an important piece of architecture and you have to get permission to do anything to a listed building. The people who owned that flat didn’t. They just took a wall out.’

‘Oh. But why are they telling us this?’

‘Because it’ll come up in the transaction. Her clients know that they must reveal it. She says quite rightly that everybody needs to be aware of the problem.’

Matthew thought for a moment. ‘So which wall are we talking about?’ he asked.

‘One in the middle,’ said the lawyer. ‘Apparently.’

Matthew sighed. Across the room he saw Elspeth looking at him. He loved her so much. He wanted her to have that flat. He wanted them to be in that bedroom with the Chinese-themed wallpaper. He could see her in the garden, sitting near that lead statue of the young girl with the skirts.

‘Look,’ he said. ‘I really want to go ahead with this. Please put in that offer. We can deal with bureaucratic difficulties later on.’

‘I’m not at all sure that removing a wall from a listed building is a mere bureaucratic difficulty,’ said the lawyer. ‘And I don’t think you’d get a letter of comfort from the council for this sort of thing.’

‘A letter of comfort?’

‘It’s a letter that says that even if something has been done, it’s all right and you can go ahead. But I don’t think that you can get them for infringements of listed building requirements.’

A letter of comfort, thought Matthew. What a marvellous term! And wouldn’t we all like to get letters of comfort from time to time? Even one letter of comfort a year would be enough. My dear, such a letter would say. Don’t worry! Everything will work out for the best.

52. The Meaning of Always

‘Don’t you think I should use this time to practise my saxophone?’ suggested Bertie. ‘Or even my Italian, Mummy? I could go to Valvona & Crolla with you and translate the labels on the cans and packets.’