There was almost no difference between Griff’s presence and his absence. He called at every stage of the drive, shouting unnecessarily into the Porsche speaker. The clouds burned off and the chill was gone. The day was sunny. Bea knelt on the swivel chair, elbows on the desk, the receiver slippery in her hand. She made call after call, to the Hôpital Centre Fleyriat, the British Consulate, the police.

My brother has just died, I need advice about how to repatriate his body.

I would like to know when a death certificate will be issued for my brother.

My brother died yesterday, you have his body.

Where do I present my brother’s passport and birth certificate?

‘For Christ’s sake, get yourselves a car,’ instructed Griff, from the road.

‘We’ve got a car –’

‘A proper car! I won’t have you going around in that.’

It occurred to Bea he worried she might have an accident too. She considered the possibility that he feared for her.

‘Rent one or buy one, I don’t care,’ he said. ‘Liv’s going to read out my credit card number, are you ready?’

It seemed petty to refuse.

‘Bea?’

She picked up a pen. ‘Yes, go on.’

‘Here she is. Just get something new. Whatever. Have it delivered.’

Liv’s halting voice read out the numbers. She kept losing track and having to start again. Without speaking, Bea took them down. Her distress and confusion felt so theatrical Bea could not believe they were not a performance. She knew her mother’s pain was real but she had no instinct for it, she was no more unseeable on the phone than if she had been standing next to her. Empathy was a sixth sense that Bea relied on; her father’s essence was almost tangible. Her mother was like a black fragment in her mind’s eye, just a gap. ‘Got it?’ shouted her father, when Liv had at last stuttered out the numbers. ‘Do it now.’ Bea hung up. She called Europcar in Beaune and rented a Volkswagen Golf.

‘As soon as possible, please,’ she said. Credit card number, deposit, done. She swivelled the chair to the board behind her, and swung the keys on their hooks to read Alex’s black-marker sins. It was just a car. It was just money. She had done it to make her father feel better. The telephone rang. She faced the desk and picked it up.

‘Hello.’

‘Hello?’ said an American man’s voice.

‘Yes?’

‘Is this the Hotel Paligny?’

She had forgotten to say that.

‘Sorry, yes, this is the Hotel Paligny, how can I help you?’

Dan, coming into the hall, looked at her enquiringly.

‘Do you have a room available June 4th through 9th?’ said the voice.

‘Yes, we do,’ said Bea brightly. ‘Would you like to book it?’

Dan was staring at her.