‘Just an idea. I don’t want to pry. Hey, listen, wait a second.’ He jumped up and plunged a hand into his Air-Force issue canvas bag that she now noticed was dumped in the corner. When he rose again, he’d drawn a black box out of the bag. It was a clunky, square camera, the kind you saw the press carrying about. His fingers began opening, flicking, turning and adjusting and he glanced up at her.

‘Mind if I take your photograph?’

‘What on earth for?’ she said, flushed hot. But he’d already clicked the shutter and was removing the film holder from the side and sliding a new one in.

‘Thank you, ma’am.’

She frowned at him. It was odd that he was a photographer. Why hadn’t he said it back at the house when he’d picked up her mother’s camera? Then again, she remembered that he’d held it as if it was precious.

‘You didn’t mention you took photographs,’ she said, like an accusation.

He clicked the shutter again and took out the film holder before answering.

‘It’s just something I’ve been doing for a while,’ he said. ‘I got this one from work, but I’ve been taking shots of wherever I am for years. I’ve got to go to the city to get the plates developed, though. I’m going to take your brother to Norwich with me. Christmas shopping.’ He was holding the camera in front of his face and adjusting the dials. Peter had already told her this, hardly able to contain his pleasure. What would he think if he knew she was here with Jack now? ‘It’s kinda like your painting.’ One bright eye appeared around the side of the camera. ‘I think we both want to interpret the world somehow, to put it down on paper. Sometimes it’s easier to express ourselves that way. I get the impression that your mother would have understood that about you.’ He reached forward and pushed the falling line of her hair behind her ear.

She didn’t know how to respond. Once again, he seemed to be looking directly inside her brain and opening up parts of it that had always been there but she’d never noticed before. It was dizzying, disconcerting. Uncomfortable.

‘Don’t forget these,’ he said. He stood, holding out her gloves, and when she reached to take them he kissed her lightly on the cheek. She was so flustered they dropped to the floor.

Immobilised by his nearness she stood still, looking down at the shapes on the floor. As she hesitated, he bent down and picked them up.

‘Thank you,’ she said, and it came out prickly, not thankful at all.

He didn’t say anything, he just continued to look at her in his appraising way, as if he knew why she had come, as if he knew her more than she did herself.