Laure looked down at the file. Her mastery of the art of remaining unmoved by another’s distress was still not perfected.

Joe looked first out of the window. Then at the floor. Then at the well-kept hands grasped tightly in his lap. ‘I waited for three trains to come in. Nothing.’ His eyes glistened. ‘You would have thought…’ A pause. ‘Wouldn’t she be curious to see what she had given away?’

May coughed. Laure frowned at her.

She rearranged the papers in Joseph Broad’s file. ‘I’ve talked to many people doing this…’ she gestured to the file, ‘and I know from—’ She cut herself off. ‘I’ve come to understand that guilt and regret are the most difficult of burdens to carry. You need courage to deal with them and sometimes people just can’t summon sufficient amounts. They’ve been too hurt. Or worn down. I’m not a professional psychotherapist, merely an observer, but I would urge you to consider if your mother needs more time.’

‘She may.’ He paused. ‘I don’t.’ Between the two utterances, his features hardened into anger.

Laure made up her mind. ‘Three things. We offer you the chance to place the object in the cabinet. Some donors find that part of the procedure important. Secondly, we ask you to provide a description as to why it is here. Thirdly, you must specify what you’d like done with an object after its time here is up.’

He leant across the desk. ‘Please write: “I am your son and you failed to meet me.” And put it where you wish. I’m leaving this evening.’

‘Are you sure?’

The previous suggestion of tears that she had spotted earlier had left a tiny slug’s trail at the corners of his eyes. ‘I’m as sure of it as anything.’

The ‘it’ encompassed what Joseph obviously considered a failure and he was the sort unused to failure. His anger and confusion were demonstrably painful to him and painful to witness. At her observation post, May shifted uneasily.

Joseph pushed the ticket across to Laure. She picked it up. It contained none of the imperfectly masked emotion of its donor.

Nic returned from escorting Joseph Broad downstairs and reported that he had slotted a hefty offering into the donation box before leaving.

‘Poor guy,’ said May. ‘But it did him good coming here. Don’t you think?’ Neither Nic nor Laure replied. She looked from one to the other. ‘Are there moments when it gets to you and the positive energy runs out?’ Not that Laure had doubted it from the first meeting, but May was shrewd.

Nic looked up and his gaze locked with May’s, and it was he who replied. ‘From time to time.’

Laure slotted the railway ticket into a plastic wallet and labelled it ‘Joseph Broad/Murry’ with the date.

May was poised over the keyboard of her laptop. ‘Do you have much feedback?’