Glancing up at the kitchen clock a few minutes later, Romy said to Leo, ‘Imogen’ll be here in a minute. Michael’s paying her double time to come at weekends – although he’s not aware of this yet – because I’m told the early period after a stroke is vital.’ She took the cup of coffee Leo offered her. ‘And the good thing is that your father is in love with her.’ She smiled as she settled at the kitchen table. ‘She’s all bouncy and blonde and bossy. It’s late in the day to realize this, but I think your father quite likes a domineering woman.’

Leo laughed. ‘Speaking of which …’

Romy shook her head. ‘Not a peep – which is hardly a surprise. The snag is, your dad’s damaged brain just won’t seem to accept that she’s gone – despite all the evidence.’

The previous night was a case in point. It was about one in the morning when she was dragged from a deep sleep to the sound of Michael’s bell. But when she asked him what he needed, he’d responded, ‘Nothing. I’m fine. I just wanted to find out if you’ve heard from Anezka. I keep leaving her messages but she doesn’t get back to me.’

Romy had let out a long sigh. ‘It’s one in the morning and you want to talk about Anezka?’

Michael’s face had fallen. She thought he seemed slightly disoriented. ‘Oh … I’m sorry … I didn’t realize it was so late.’ His mouth twisted with anxiety. ‘It’s just I really need to talk to her. Did she ring you, Romy? You can tell me.’

‘No, Michael, she didn’t. Now go to sleep and we can discuss it in the morning.’

He’d nodded, but she could see he was still upset, so she sat down in the orange chair. ‘Go to sleep,’ she said, more gently this time, stroking his hand. He’d closed his eyes and was asleep within minutes, as usual, leaving Romy wondering what had gone on between him and Anezka to make him so desperate to speak to her.

She sat on in the darkness, wide awake now. Michael was muttering in his sleep, his head tossing from side to side as if he were trying desperately to shake something off.

‘No … no, no, no … don’t look at me like that … I didn’t …’ He threw his arm out violently, hitting the wall behind his head.

Romy laid a hand on his shoulder. ‘Michael, it’s OK,’ she soothed. For a second he opened his eyes, then lapsed into sleep again. Was that about Anezka? Or was it about something that happened much further back in his memory bank? She’d shivered, the words of the letter once more in the forefront of her brain, and had taken herself off to bed.