‘You didn’t really want me to clean your house, did you, Joe?’

He looked at her and smiled. He had quite a smile. ‘Not really. I wanted to talk to you.’

‘Talk away.’ She felt better for clearing that up. ‘You should’ve said.’

He took two mugs from the row of hooks on the wall. ‘I phoned around all the docks. All the shipping companies. There’s no record of them getting on a boat to England or anywhere else. They must still be in the country, Mandy.’ He smiled again. ‘They’re still in Australia.’

‘I don’t think so.’ She spoke softly, carefully. ‘I don’t think they went by boat, Joe.’

He took a long time to reply. The kettle whistled. ‘They went by plane?’

‘They did.’

‘They can’t have.’ He opened the cupboard over the basin and closed it again; tried a few drawers and slammed them shut. ‘Where did you put all the ashtrays?’

‘Should be a few in here.’ She leaned behind her and opened the drawer next to the stove just as he reached for it, and both their hands closed around its metal handle. ‘I washed them all out,’ she said, sitting back into her chair. She put her hands in her lap and held them between her knees. ‘You had ashtrays everywhere. Spilling out over the surfaces.’

‘I know.’ The cigarette in his mouth jerked as he spoke. He sat, and offered her the pack. His movements were rushed, nervy. ‘They can’t have flown back to England, Mandy. It costs a lot of money to fly to England.’

Mandy lit her own cigarette and let him be for a minute or two. He was quiet, in a restless way, taking in what she’d said. She figured he’d check the savings account soon enough, once the shock had worn off. She didn’t want to give him any more bad news. After a while she stood and poured tea into two mugs, found some milk and set it all down on the table. He didn’t appear to notice.

‘I can’t get used to them being gone.’ His right leg was leaping in a quick, jerky rhythm. ‘I keep thinking she’s in the next room. I think of something I want to tell her and when I go to speak I remember.’ He stared into the steaming mug. ‘She must have been planning it. She must have made her mind up a long time ago.’

‘I think you’re probably right.’

‘Not even a proper note.’ He thumped the table, and winced. He held his swollen fingers in his good hand. ‘I thought she was doing better,’ he said, more to himself than to her. ‘I really thought so.’

Mandy sat back in her chair and drank her tea. Joe held the cup with his hand wrapped around the base, his thumb hooked through the handle. He was miles away, working it all through, trying not to believe it. It was hard to watch.

‘Do you miss England?’ she asked.