‘Better now. Come, let me help you.’ He lifted her, her rubbery legs trailing, and half carried her into the sitting room. ‘I’m so dreadfully sorry ,’ he said, over and over again. ‘I saw the lights . . . and heard the wood ripping; I couldn’t think. You were the very last person . . .’ He pulled a cushion out from under the dust sheet on which she lay and put it behind her head. ‘And now,’ he said, ‘over all your protests, you’re going to have some brandy.’

She was glad to see him go away for a moment. The burden of memories which she must now lift and stagger along with seemed, for the moment, too great. She remembered a very good poem she had once read, about the pains of resurrection and how the risen men might wish themselves dead again. For a breath’s space she wished that she had remained with her maimed memory, ignorant.

She remembered that last interview, in his study; and the way he had taken leave of her. And she knew that she must be very careful.

‘Here you are,’ he said, handing her a glass. ‘My poor Miss Mayfield, what a homecoming! Why on earth didn’t you let us know?’

‘Mrs Mott-Tyler said that you were still abroad.’

‘Oh yes. My fault again. I’ve been meaning to get in touch with her ever since I returned. So much had piled up.’ He threw the dust cover from one of the chairs and sat down. ‘There seemed no urgency. The last I heard from Barnhurst was that you were happy and comfortable, but still not quite well. Anyhow,’ he leaned forward and gave her his most charming smile, ‘I’m delighted to see you back.’

‘I longed to be back. That was the trouble. Mrs Mott-Tyler and Miss Ellison were so careful with me. They just couldn’t realize that I was quite well. In the end – I might as well tell you before they do – I ran away.’ She sipped at the brandy and gave a little shudder.

‘I must let them know. They’ll be very worried.’

‘I shall, of course, write and apologize for leaving as I did. But you know how it is; after any illness there comes a time when you can’t bear to be coddled any longer.’

‘How long have you been in full possession of your . . . your memory?’

‘That’s rather a difficult question to answer.’ She smiled at him. ‘And who could honestly claim full possession of his memory? There was space when I couldn’t remember anything about Walwyk. Then, of course, later I remembered a great deal. Probably not everything. One thing I do remember, though, and I should like to speak to you about it at once because it does affect the future.’

‘Ah, the future.’