“I do apologise. I’m afraid my mother misheard the number.”

“Who’s she when she’s at home?”

Rather than retort that she was at the office I said “Astrid Turnbill.”

“Yes,” the woman said like a challenge, “I rang her.”

“Then I’m sorry, I don’t understand why you said—”

“I hope she’s not in charge of people’s finances if that’s how accurate she is. The name’s not Derrison, it’s Dennison.”

“Then I expect I misheard. Apologies again.” Feeling that I’d mollified the woman quite as much as she deserved, I said “My mother told you I’d give you a call, and here I am.”

“It’s a pity you weren’t here.”

“I was the other day. I didn’t see any need to return.” This only delayed what I had to ask. “Could you tell me what’s happened now?”

“Your son went up the tower block with a girl. I’ve seen too many people going in there to buy drugs.”

“I’m sure that can’t have been why my son and his girlfriend were there.”

“Perhaps you can explain what they were grubbing about for.”

“I don’t even know what you mean by that.”

“After they came down they started crawling around outside. Tell me what anybody would expect to find there if you can.”

“I’d say you should have asked them.”

“I’m keeping my head down at my time of life. It’s not advisable round here to get a reputation as a snitch.”

“I don’t think my son would have taken you for one.”

“I’m talking about the people the rest of us have to live near. If I were you I’d make certain he isn’t seen here again.”

“I can’t imagine you’ll be seeing either of them.”

I left it at that, feeling no need to apologise further if even so much as I had. I was ending the call when she spoke. “Aw,” she said, or a word that sounded like it, unless it was just the first syllable. I didn’t think she could tell me anything I’d want to hear or needed to, and in any case she would have my number now. Just the same, I was anxious to learn more about Roy’s visit. I did my best to elucidate the Ackroyd and others of his novels that touched on the occult, until my ponderings grew too ponderous to bear. I was slouched like my teenage self against the kitchen sink, impatiently observing the birth of the first bubble in the percolator, when I heard Roy’s key in the lock. “Where did you get to?” I said.

“You haven’t been waiting for me, have you? It’s not that late.”