‘Oh, well… The whole place is poisoned now. Place without an i, that is. And not literally, I don’t think. The famous fish and chips are in no danger at all. Especially as it’s all imported from Iceland.’

‘Bereft, you said earlier.’

‘Yes… Do you think you might ask me about something else now?’

*

I could hear the tapping of a laptop from Emily’s room; I brought her a cup of tea and glanced at her screen. She shut the lid and attempted to smile, and I knew it was time to go before she began to consider me a burden.

Before I left town I called for Alan, who was outside on his driveway, washing his car when I arrived. He invited me in and over a cup of tea we spoke awkwardly about Mum, how he was filling his time, the practicalities of selling the house in a depressed market. ‘People are talking about reopening the train line here,’ he said. ‘That would help.’

‘Do you think it will happen?’

‘I doubt it’s a priority, is it?’ he said.

When we shook hands to say goodbye, he told me Amy and I would always be welcome to stay with him. ‘Don’t feel obliged,’ he said quickly, when he saw my face.

‘No,’ I said. ‘It’s not that. I’d like to. It’s only really dawning on me that when we sell the place we’ll…’

‘You both have a place to stay here whenever you want.’

It was something, and I was grateful.

I said goodbye to Alan and shook hands, then I caught a tram to Blackpool, two trains to London.

It was mid-afternoon when I unchained my bike from outside Euston, jumped on the canal at Camden Lock and rode home slowly by the water, dodging all the flâneurs on their Sunday stroll.

As I climbed the rickety stairs to the château I knew I was coming back to my real home, and the relief of this inspired the opposite feeling: where the hell was I going to end up in the autumn? I put a record on, opened a window and let the rush of traffic in before I lay on the bed.

When neither Mary nor Jonathan had appeared after an hour, I went looking for signs of their presence. For once the living room was more like a living room than a bedroom; Jonathan’s bedding was folded up neatly and the air was what passes for fresh round here. I wondered where he had been sleeping and went upstairs to stick my head around Mary’s door. It was the usual mess. I was glad to see no evidence of Jonathan’s belongings in the room.

It was my interview for the job at the publisher’s in the morning. I thought about what to say, and went to bed early while the house was still empty.

*