‘OK, George.’ Elaine mounted the stairs. She was tired. George always made her feel tired and depressed. Thank God she had Hector.

When George brought her up a cup of Ovaltine a little while later, Elaine was sitting at the dressing table in her corset, taking off a pair of stockings. George placed the Ovaltine on the bedside table and watched her, surprised at just how much weight she had lost. Her legs were getting quite shapely! As she peeled off the stockings and waggled her toes George noticed some tiny red marks on her neck. His mouth set in a grim line. Elaine lifted her arms and unclasped her gold locket, the action causing her enormous breasts to rise up in the heavily underwired bra she wore. She moved naturally, as if after years of having her husband take no notice of her she was invisible to him. She glanced at him and jolted as she saw him watching her.

‘What’s the matter now, George?’ Her voice was clipped and demanded no reply.

He just carried on staring. She opened the jewellery box that held her few treasures and dropped the necklace into it.

‘Oh, by the way, George, here’s your tiepin. I nearly hoovered it up.’ She picked up a ring box from inside her underwear drawer and threw it to him. ‘I don’t know what possessed me to put it in my drawer. I meant to give it to you yesterday but I forgot.’

George caught the box and opened it. There was his tiepin. He grinned his widest grin. Going to Elaine, he put his arms around her and kissed the top of her head.

‘Here, steady on, George.’ She pushed him off in disgust but he was too happy to notice.

He had the tiepin.

It was not lost.

There were no clues.

He was free as a bird.

Kate awoke to a feeling of lazy euphoria that seemed to have started somewhere in her legs and had, during the course of the night, washed through her entire body. She could smell Patrick Kelly on her and pulled the covers back over her head and breathed in the scent of him deeply.

Emerging once more, she noticed that it was light. Her bedroom curtains were open about two inches and she saw the weak dawn and felt it was invading her privacy. She glanced at the alarm clock. Six fifteen. She could lie for a while in total silence and think about the night before. Not about Dan, he was gone from her now as surely as if he was dead, but about Patrick. Patrick Kelly . . . even his name gave her a thrill.

He was here, or at least she felt that he was, and at this moment that was enough for her.

She had lived in a vacuum. Now, at forty, she was finally finding out what life was all about. The love side of it anyway.