Hildegard lay asleep on the sofa, her hair spread across the cushion like the dorsal fin of some exotic golden fish. I sat down, ran my hand across its smooth silkiness, and then kissed her forehead, catching the drink on her breath as I did so. Stirring, her eyes blinked open, sad and crusted with tears. She put her hand on my cheek and then on to the back of my neck, pulling me down to her mouth.

‘I have to talk to you,’ I said, holding back.

She pressed her finger against my lips. ‘I know she’s dead,’ she said. ‘I’ve done all my crying. There’s no more water in the well.’

She smiled sadly, and I kissed each eyelid tenderly, smoothing her scented hair with the palm of my hand, nuzzling at her ear, chewing the side of her neck as her arms held me close, and closer still.

‘You’ve had a ghastly evening too,’ she said gently. ‘Haven’t you, darling?’

‘Ghastly,’ I said.

‘I was worried about you going back to that awful house.’

‘Let’s not talk about it.’

‘Put me to bed, Bernie.’

She put her arms around my neck and I gathered her up, folding her against my body like an invalid and carrying her into the bedroom. I sat her down on the edge of the bed and started to unbutton her blouse. When that was off she sighed and fell back against the quilt: slightly drunk I thought, unzipping her skirt and tugging it smoothly down her stockinged legs. Pulling down her slip I kissed her small breasts, her stomach and then the inside of her thighs. But her pants seemed to be too tight, or caught between her buttocks, and resisted my pulling. I asked her to lift her bottom.

‘Tear them,’ she said.

‘What?’

‘Tear them off. Hurt me, Bernie. Use me.’ She spoke with breathless urgency, her thighs opening and closing like the jaws of some enormous praying mantis.

‘Hildegard–’

She struck me hard across the mouth.

‘Listen, damn you. Hurt me when I tell you.’

I caught her wrist as she struck again.

‘I’ve had enough for one evening.’ I caught her other arm. ‘Stop it.’

‘Please, you must.’

I shook my head, but her legs wrapped around my waist and my kidneys winced as her strong thighs squeezed tight.

‘Stop it, for God’s sake.’

‘Hit me, you stupid ugly bastard. Did I tell you that you were stupid, too? A typical bone-headed bull. If you were a man you’d rape me. But you haven’t got it in you, have you?’

‘If it’s a sense of grief you’re after, then we’ll take a drive down to the morgue.’ I shook my head and pushed her thighs apart and then away from me. ‘But not like this. It should be with love.’