Eventually the room grew brighter, but I could just as well have been lying in gloom. I might have concluded that my encounter with Bella had depleted my energy besides reducing my ability to think. Though my eyelids had an additional excuse to droop – to fend off the increasing glare – I told myself I must get up soon, in case this helped me conceive some kind of plan. Let me have some real sleep first for just a few minutes, but I’d experienced none of that when a large insect landed on the bedside table, buzzing as it crawled towards my face. Once it began to trill I recognised my phone, only to wonder if it was about to announce my dead aunt. Of course I’d substituted Bella’s name, but the one the phone spoke was my son’s. “Good to hear you, Roy,” I said.

A pause gave me time to fear it wouldn’t be his voice I heard, and then he said “I’m in Liverpool.”

“Just you on your own?”

“It’s the last day of the exhibition. Bell said she didn’t need it any more.”

“As long as you’re so close we ought to get together.”

“I’ve only just got here. I’ll be here for a while.”

I was already struggling out of bed, squeezing my eyes shut as they met sunlight through the window. “Will you stay there till I find you?”

“I’ll be here at least an hour.”

While nothing he’d said was a direct invitation, I wanted to think it all was. After a rapid visit to the bathroom, I grabbed an apple from the kitchen as I hurried to my car. I left the gnawed remains in the cup-holder beside the gear lever, and in seconds the exposed flesh grew discoloured. For some reason the display of ageing reminded me of Bella. Since she wasn’t with my son, where might she be? I couldn’t help glancing at the back seat in the mirror all the way to the tunnel and for the miles beneath the river. Once I reached the waterfront I found I wasn’t anxious to use the underground car park. Having located a space in the open, I made for the Tate.

I was sending the lift up to the third floor when the doors reopened, admitting nobody that I could see. I was glad to leave the pallid metal box, and didn’t look back as I heard the doors falter while closing. The title of the exhibition – Reaching Further – no longer inspired me. I could have taken it as a warning, especially for Roy. As I hurried through the first room, which was full of influences on Thelma’s work, I reflected that a crucial influence was nowhere to be seen, though need this mean Bella wasn’t there? I could only hope so as I caught sight of my son.