Jomier has completed his task of transcribing his journals on to his hard disk. The past has now caught up with the present. He drags files from different folders from his hard disk C to the new removable disk F. In a couple of minutes his entire archive – his journals, the catalogue of his books, his works of art, his correspondence – are copied and stored. Geoffrey Jomier is now digitalised. With a few strokes on his keyboard he can look back on any period of his life. He does not do so. He does not want to look back. He does not want to remember Tilly returning flushed and sweaty after supposedly playing tennis on a Saturday morning with Marco and Marco’s friends. He does not want to ask himself where they had had sex. Or for how long it had gone on.

Jomier might have put these questions to Tilly but he has not. There would be anger in his tone of voice. Anger, rancour, vengeful feelings – all are forbidden under the terms of his contract with God. He lets Tilly believe that he has decided not to make a fuss about the past. To draw a line. To move on. Louisa’s paternity is their secret: his grandmother’s lover, Ferdy von Frycht, is now part of Jomier family lore. Jomier is affable towards Tilly when he sees her at their grandchildren’s birthday parties. He has been to some of Max and Tilly’s soirées – the invaluable unattached man. He does not enjoy these encounters. He is angry with Tilly and angry with God. He feels he has been cheated by both. Could he have done a better deal with the Devil? Why had no Mephistopheles come forward with a counter-offer? ‘I will cure Louisa if you sell me your soul.’ His yoke would surely have been lighter, his burden easier to carry. There would be no need to believe. No need to repent. No need to forgive. No need to love.