“Oh.” And now that she started to descend the stairs, she realized that she did feel a little on the shaky side. “It’s one of those days, you know. I lost my job this morning, and I suppose it’s just sort of sinking in.”

“Too bad,” he said. “Remind me again what you do.”

“Well, that’s the problem, I don’t really do anything properly.” They had reached the hallway of the house, and she stopped and looked at him. “You’re an academic, aren’t you?”

“Lecturer at Birkbeck,” he nodded. “The eighteenth-century novel.”

Hardly her field, she thought, but it was the right area, anyway.

“Can I ask you what it’s like?” she asked. “The academic world.”

“Sure. Want a cup of coffee?”

“Um …”

Fee drove fast through the streets of London and would be home very soon; a cup of coffee would keep Lulu in the house, and she really did not feel like confronting her mother right now.

“I’m going to Carroll’s for breakfast,” he said. “Care to join me?”

Carroll’s was a different matter. It was a remnant of old Islington, the shabby borough Lulu had grown up in before the fashionable people had moved in, a workman’s café tucked on a side street off the Caledonian Road, with Formica-topped tables and windows that misted in the winter.

Lulu did not often go out to eat, but she had always had a fondness for Carroll’s.

Tom appeared to be well liked, she noticed, approvingly, when they reached the café. He was greeted with affectionate warmth by Maureen, the owner, and speedily served with a full English breakfast, the plate heaped high with food: Maureen, who was a maternal soul, liked to fatten her favorites.

“Do you always do that?” she asked, watching with interest as he doused his scrambled eggs with the Tabasco sauce Maureen had brought to accompany them.

“Yeah.” He looked up, surprised. “Don’t you?”

“No! No one does here. Hadn’t you noticed?”

“Not very good at noticing things, I’m afraid. It drove my ex crazy.” He stopped, frowning a little, and shook his head, as if to dislodge some memories. Then smiled that kind smile at her. “So what’s up with you?” he asked. “You look like you could use a friendly ear.”

“Oh.” Lulu sighed, and swallowed a mouthful of her bacon sandwich. “Probably something terribly tedious and young person-y, that everyone’s heard a million times over and is bored halfway into a coma by.”

“I’m not quite your grandfather’s age, you know. Try me.” He forked a healthy mouthful of baked beans and nodded encouragingly.

“Okay.” It was surprisingly difficult, though, to know where to begin. “Have you been an academic all your life?”

“I guess I have. Wow.” He raised his eyebrows behind his glasses. “That sounds kind of disturbing, doesn’t it? To have never done anything but what I do.”

“I suppose not, if you enjoy it. Do you enjoy it?”

“Absolutely.” He nodded. “I’m very fortunate because my work is my joy. A lot of people wake up in the morning thinking, Oh, God, I have to go to work today. Me, I wake up thinking, Oh, boy, I get to go to work today!” He nodded again, firmly, and a little sternly. “I’m a very fortunate man,” he repeated.