Otherwise the afternoon had been less successful. Some of the students had found The Magus needlessly obscure, while others had condemned it for a lack of contemporary relevance. Several had questioned the need to discuss magic at all. I’d argued that it addressed moral themes in the book, not to mention how we took reality for granted, but when somebody described the author’s previous novel – The Collector – another girl protested that the summary should have been preceded by a trigger warning, which provoked a vigorous discussion about how safe a tutorial ought to be. I could only hope tomorrow’s session would stay closer to the point, though it wasn’t my way to restrict discussion too much. On the whole I was glad to be back at work, especially if it helped me move on from the events of that summer.

As I left the building I shivered. Surely this came just from the chill in the November air, and could revive nothing except memories. I was crossing the car park beneath a thin grey sky when my phone twitched in my pocket and then rang while speaking my son’s name. “Roy,” I said as well.

“We were just talking about you, dad.”

“Nothing too bad, I hope.”

“Marie was saying she wishes she was on your course.”

I did my best to find this simply welcome, but experienced a twinge of unease as I said “Why’s that?”

“Because she likes all the writers you’re using.”

“I thought she was well read. She’s quite a treasure, I’d say.”

In case my enthusiasm embarrassed him I tried to quiet it down. I was compensating too much for my behaviour months ago, and was abashed to realise his new girlfriend could hear. “I was hoping I could talk about them with you, Patrick,” she said.

“Of course we can. Let’s get together again soon.” In case this sounded as if I were excluding Roy I said “I’ll buy you both dinner.”

“We’d like that, wouldn’t we, Roy?”

“We can at the weekend. And dad…”

His tentativeness made me uneasy, and the pause did. “Go on, speak up,” I said.

“Marie doesn’t mind me saying, do you, Marie, but did you ever see Bella again?”

I tried not to recall how she’d atrophied while struggling to remain or become human – that recapitulated lack of shape the river had swept away into the dark. “I haven’t,” I said as an approximation of the truth.

“If you ever do you can tell her I’m with someone else.”

Not unlike a prayer I said “I can’t imagine I ever will.”

“I’m glad I met her, though. She helped me get over that hang-up I had about your aunt. I don’t mean I don’t still like her pictures.”