I must have let my face betray my feelings. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t really understand any of that. I mean, well … look … I don’t know what I mean, if I’m honest with you, but what has that got to do with Cordelia and why her house and why here and why now? And what did John and me do? What’s happening that’s so secret it’s worth sticking us in here and hurting him and flashing guns? Who brought you here?’

‘The man Pelletier,’ she said, her tongue flicking over her dry lips as she started re-fastening John’s cardigan. She put the back of her hand to his forehead. Held a canteen to his lips and rubbed at his throat with her finger and thumb. He dribbled a bit but she didn’t wipe her hand. Just held the canteen and told him he was doing well as he swallowed down a few slurps of water. ‘Pelletier has been helping us,’ she said, not losing her train of thought. ‘Pelletier can be trusted, even if he can only be trusted to continue to act as Pelletier. We came by aeroplane, a cold and noisy journey, bones rattling and bitter … squashed up against some wooden crates and almost deafened by the thunder of the engines. Pelletier, you see … he has proven himself, in his way. And what choice do we have? He told us that all will be well. That here there are people waiting for us who will help us change the story to the way it should have been told.’

I didn’t follow her. Didn’t understand. But by then she was more talking to herself than to me.