‘I’m very glad to hear it. Doctor Goebbels. What do I do fork?’

‘You say it aloud. You will like the sound it makes.’

‘And will that make me all better?’

‘All better. You will see. It is simple: but perhaps if I put on my clothes you will find it easier, I am less like a whore perhaps.’ She slid lightly off the bed and stood for a moment in the middle of the room not perfectly certain where she had left her belongings. He watched her, smiling with amusement. A boy with his first pet mouse. She pulled on the tartan dress and the rabbit jacket, buttoned the two mangy buttons. Stood to attention, hands primly clasped before her.

‘It won’t do,’ he said shaking his head.

‘What is it?’ Alarm in her eyes.

‘No airplane. In your hair.’

‘Oh my goodness! My slide!’ Hands flew to her cropped hair, patted the sagging rabbit pockets, scrabbled about pulling out bits of paper, a crushed packet of cigarettes, the airplane. With trembling fingers she opened it and fixed it firmly to a spike of hair, stood erect, folded her hands, tilting her head a little to prevent it sliding down her face. ‘There I am,’ she said.

‘You said it was simple to say, didn’t you?’

She nodded and the airplane fell to the floor’ If you feel it.’

‘Well, I do,’ he said grinning across the tumbled bed. ‘I love you.’

‘Fantastic!’ she said.

He stood watching the water swirl away at the end of the bath in a minor whirlpool, removed the towel from his hips, rubbed his hair, looked at his reflection in the mirrors, stuck out his tongue, punched lightly into the air and went back into the bedroom. Somewhere in the pines a nightingale was singing. He draped the towel over a chairback, climbed up on to the bed, stretched out long and wide, folded his arms behind his head and stared up into the shadowy ceiling. Smiling.