‘Yeah,’ said Alex, ‘he owns us and he owes us. Take advantage! Think of it as payment – for services not rendered by him, right? Compensation or something. Fuck it, right?’ He stopped speaking, staring at the end of his cigarette, still blinking, but trying not to.

Neither Dan nor Bea said a word. There was a long silence. Alex stubbed out his cigarette and turned slowly towards Bea. He leaned forward, his face suddenly bright.

‘“Have you recently been involved in an accident that wasn’t your fault?”’ he said, like a cold-call salesman.

Dan just stared at him, but then Bea and her brother started to laugh.

‘What is it?’ said Dan.

Bea and Alex, laughing, gasped.

‘Nothing,’ said Bea. ‘Just nothing.’

They stopped laughing at the same time and there was silence. Alex tipped back his chair, ruminating.

‘Spain,’ he said, picking up another cigarette and lighting it. ‘Espagne.’

‘We want to visit the Alhambra,’ said Bea. ‘Neither of us have ever seen it.’

‘Art’s not your thing.’

‘It’s Dan’s thing. He studied it,’ said Bea. ‘He can teach me.’

‘And what about you?’ asked Alex. ‘How’re the nutters of London treating you? The disenfranchised. The depressed. Will they be all right?’

‘I had a lot of clients,’ she said. She could feel Dan looking at her. She didn’t want him to feel guilty, she felt bad enough already.

‘Junkies?’ asked Alex.

‘Not usually. Some, while I was training, but not since I qualified.’

‘Did I know you qualified?’ He sifted through the past, trying to remember.

‘Five years ago.’

‘You’ve been a qualified psychotherapist for five years?’

‘You’ve had other things to worry about.’

‘No, it’s shit of me.’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ she said.

‘I missed your wedding. I missed your thirtieth.’

‘It’s fine. Alex. It’s fine.’

He stared into her eyes. ‘I’m going to my meetings,’ he said. ‘Just so you know.’

She didn’t let him see how much she was feeling. ‘NA?’

‘Yep.’

‘Out here?’ She pictured French farmers in church halls, surrendering their various addictions to their Higher Power.

‘No, no, online,’ said Alex. ‘It’s great. Especially if you can parlez the French, like what you and me can do. I drink a load of wine. But not every day. And that’s it.

‘OK,’ said Bea.

‘All right then, sometimes a bit of weed. These provincial French towns, you’ve no idea how easy it is to get hold of.’

‘I can imagine,’ she said.

‘My little sister, the expert. So I do my building work round the hotel, and odd jobs and things, and it’s –’

He stopped. The word ‘fine’ would not come and he couldn’t think of another.

‘All right there, Dan?’ he said brightly.

‘Yes, thanks,’ said Dan.

‘Enough to eat?’

‘Yes,’ said Dan, but then took pity. He indicated the cigarettes. ‘Can I nick one of those?’

Alex handed him the packet. Dan only smoked to be friendly. Observing a shred of companionship between them Bea stood up.

‘Give me your plates. Then I have to go to bed, I’m so tired.’