Louisa is dying. It is clear to Jomier when he sees his daughter appear through the arrivals portal at Heathrow’s Terminal 3. She is in a wheelchair pushed by an employee of the British Airports Authority while Jimmy follows with their luggage on a trolley. There is no flesh on her face. The skin is sallow and loose; the eyes huge. She sees her father and gives a tired smile. Jomier steps forward. They embrace. Two skeletal arms come up to enfold him. Jomier scents decay. He stands and greets Jimmy: a bear hug but no clap on the back. Jimmy says: ‘Here we are.’ He glances obliquely at Jomier. Jomier avoids meeting his eyes. He does not want Jimmy to see reflected in his expression his shock at Louisa’s pitiful condition.

Jomier takes control of the wheelchair from the British Airports Authority employee and leads the way towards the lifts that will take them out of arrivals to the Terminal 3 car park. The first lift takes them to a sloping Bridge of Sighs. Those in the contraflow glance at Louisa and then look away. Jomier wishes his load were heavier. They reach Level 1 where Jomier waits behind excited new arrivals from the Indian subcontinent to pay the car-park charge at the machine. Louisa waits with Jimmy. Jomier reaches the head of the queue. He puts in the ticket, then his debit card, punches in his PIN, then retrieves his now magnetically validated ticket and, after pushing the requisite button, a receipt. They then take a second lift to Level 2 and cross the concrete to the Golf. Jimmy wants to put Louisa in the front of the car but she insists on sitting in the back beside the stacked suitcases; the collapsed wheelchair takes up most of the space in the boot.

They drive into London. ‘It so good to see you, Dad. I just wish the circumstances weren’t so . . . tiresome.’

Jomier asks after his grandchildren.

‘Oh, they’re fine.’ Louisa begins to give some detail but the effort appears to exhaust her. Her voice tails off. Jimmy finishes for her – a brief résumé of academic progress and sporting achievements. Then: ‘Do you know this Professor Adams?’

Jomier shakes his head.

‘You must google him,’ says Jimmy. ‘He’s supposed to be the best.’

‘He’s at St Chad’s,’ says Louisa quietly. ‘Professor Cochella, the specialist in Argentina, studied under him. He says that if anyone can find out what’s wrong with me, it’s him.’

‘He takes private patients?’ asks Jomier.

‘A few. He’s still friendly with Cochella. And it seems that I’m a challenge.’