‘Utterly. I loathe it. Just before, well, just before we “met” I’d been in London. It was such fun! I adored it all; parties, invitations, so much to do. It was the most awful anti-climax coming back here. I mean, you do see?’

‘Well, I couldn’t see for me, if you follow? But I suppose I see for you. I didn’t know that you hated it so here. I didn’t know that. Even feel it.’ He couldn’t look at her.

She shrugged, shook her head, fixed the velvet bow in her hair. ‘Oh, I don’t absolutely hate it. Not so vehement. I just get desperately depressed sometimes. I feel buried. Do you know?’

‘Yes. Is that why …?’ He picked up Jane Austen, wiped imaginary dust from the cover.

Here it comes, she thought, help him with it, God knows you’ve been showering him with false clues.

‘Is that why what?’

He looked up uncomfortably. ‘I shouldn’t ask. The shrimping thing? You said. Do you remember? Without the net? Is that why?’

‘I’m afraid so. Wasn’t it frightful? Just became completely dotty with depression. I think I told you at the time. A little mental aberration. That’s really all … but I’ll never attempt that again. Such an idiotic thing to try and do.’

He was looking at his knees, pulling a thread from the seam of his jeans. ‘I thought it was … something more.’

‘No,’ she said briskly. ‘Nothing more. Sheer, stinking self-pity. That’s all. And when you all leave, which will be beastly, I think I will too. Off on a little trip, just on my own. There are lots of places I haven’t been to. I must be a bit more enterprising, don’t you think? Adventurous? San Francisco, Peking, Oslo …’

‘If it would be fun.’

‘I think perhaps. But we are still conspirators, remember, you’ll never, never say, will you, about not slipping? It would be so dreadfully hurtful to everyone.’

‘Absolutely.’

She got to her feet, tucked up the cuffs of her shirt. ‘Now then: after that dire confession, of which I am thoroughly ashamed, I must go and get on with things. I do rather long to meet Uncle Desmond tonight, we must turn him loose in Archie’s Museum place, mustn’t we? All those bits and pieces; he’ll be fascinated. You’ve got an early start in the morning?’

‘Car’s coming at seven. I’ve packed nearly everything. Leni wants me out of the room when she gets back. I don’t know why. This dotty hair business or whatever.’

‘Well, look here: I suggest this.’ She had moved to the edge of the pool and stood looking up to the top of the steps, shielding her eyes. ‘I’ll stay abed in the morning. Far too early for me and I’m like Minna: I simply loathe farewells. So we’ll just go off as we usually do, at the end of every evening, don’t you agree? I mean, do admit, “Goodnight” is far less final than “Goodbye”.’