Step one in the quid pro quo. He goes to his study and calls Judith. He would prefer to send her an email but feels that voice-to-voice contact is necessary if forgiveness is to be 100 per cent. Jesus of Nazareth makes it quite clear: formulaic forgiveness is not enough. There can be no conditions or caveats or restrictive clauses. Must I forgive my brother seven times? asks Peter. No, replies Jesus. Seventy-seven times. And it has to be ‘from the heart’.

Judith answers with a little cry – of joy or surprise or relief. Jomier apologises for not ringing before. He tells Judith that Louisa is gravely ill and possibly dying, but not from Creutzfeldt–Jakob’s disease. She has a rare blood disorder that has flummoxed the doctors in Buenos Aires. She is now in the hands of a Professor Adams at Chad’s.

Jomier can hear sniffing: Judith is sobbing. ‘I am so sorry for what I said. I really . . . it just came out.’

‘Please don’t feel sorry. I said some beastly things about Ophelia. We were both on edge because of our daughters.’ Jomier is delighted with the sincerity and warmth in his tone of voice.

‘Do you still love me?’ she sniffs.

‘Of course I still love you,’ he says. No need to pause to ask himself whether Jomier means what he says: loving everyone is part of the deal.

Jomier’s satnav guides him across London to Chad’s Hospital. It takes twenty minutes to find somewhere to park. He goes to reception and is directed to the private wing. A melancholy black woman with a bottom larger than Ruth’s cleans the linoleum floors of the corridors with slow token swipes of her mop. Louisa has a room in a gloomy 1960s block. Jimmy is with her. She looks better.

‘You look better,’ says Jomier as he kisses her.

‘I’ve had a blood transfusion,’ says Louisa. ‘It won’t last.’

Jimmy offers Jomier the one chair and sits on the end of Louisa’s bed.

‘I brought you some chocolate,’ says Jomier. He hands her a small box of Bendicks Bittermints.

Louisa takes it and places it on her bedside table next to a flamboyant bunch of lilies and cellophane sackful of Maison Blanc chocolate truffles. ‘I love Bittermints,’ she says to Jomier and then, following his glance to the bunch of flowers: ‘They’re from Mum. A little over the top, don’t you think?’

Jimmy takes advantage of Jomier’s presence to run some errands. ‘Poor Jimmy,’ says Louisa. ‘He’s always been so protective. He finds it hard now that there’s nothing more he can do.’

‘But pray.’

Louisa laughs. ‘Did you say pay or pray?’

‘Pray.’

‘He subcontracts that to his mother and the children. They’ve been praying novenas to Our Lady of Guadalupe for months.’

‘And it hasn’t worked?’

‘Not yet.’

‘Perhaps Doña Adelina’s prayers aren’t sincere.’