Candace said, “And she’s coming back?”

“I presume so, in just over two weeks’ time.” There was a silence. Helena said, “Why do you feel so strongly about it? She’s a patient much like the others. She’s booked in for a week’s convalescence after surgery, but I doubt whether she’ll stay the course, not in December. She’ll probably want to get back to town. Whether she does or not, I can’t see her being more of a nuisance than the other patients. Probably less.”

“It depends on what you mean by a nuisance. She’s an investigative journalist. She’ll always be on the lookout for a story. And if she wants material for a new article, she’ll find it, even if she does no more than write a diatribe about the vanity and silliness of some of our patients. After all, they’re guaranteed secrecy as well as security. I don’t see how you can hope for secrecy with an investigative journalist in residence, particularly this one.”

Helena said, “With only herself and Mrs. Skeffington in residence, she’s hardly likely to encounter more than one example of vanity and silliness to write about.”

She thought, But it’s more than that. Why should she worry whether the clinic flourishes or fails once her brother has gone? She said, “But with you it’s personal, isn’t it? It has to be.”

Candace turned away. Helena regretted the sudden impulse which had prompted the question. The two of them worked well together, respected each other, at least professionally. Now wasn’t the time to start exploring those private areas which she knew, like her own, were barred by a keep-out notice.

There was silence, then Helena said, “You said there were two things.”

“I’ve asked George if I can stay on here for another six months, perhaps as long as a year. I would continue to help with the accounts and in the office generally, if you think I could be useful. Obviously once Marcus has left I’d pay a proper rent. I don’t want to stay on if you’re not happy about it. I ought to mention that I shan’t be here for three days next week. I’m flying to Toronto to arrange some kind of pension for Grace Holmes, the nurse who helped me with Father.”

So Marcus was going. It was about time he made up his mind. His loss would be a major inconvenience for George, but no doubt he’d find a substitute. Helena said, “We wouldn’t find it easy to do without you. I’d be grateful if you could stay on, at least for a time. I know that Lettie will feel the same. So you’ve finished with the university?”

“The university has finished with me. There are not enough students to justify a Classics Department. I saw it coming, of course. They closed the Physics Department last year to enlarge Forensic Science, and now the Classics Department is to close, and Theology will become Comparative Religion. When that’s judged to be too difficult—and with our intake it undoubtedly will be—then no doubt Comparative Religion will become Religion and Media Studies. Or Religion and Forensic Sciences. The government, which proclaims a target of fifty per cent of young people going to university, and at the same time ensures that forty per cent are uneducated when they leave secondary school, lives in a fantasy world. But don’t let me get on to the subject of higher education. I’ve become a bore about it.”