‘Too much to drink on the ’plane, dear … on an empty stomach. That’s all. Self-indulgence, made me a bit woozy. I couldn’t be sorrier, say you forgive me?’

‘Of course I forgive you. What nonsense. Sure you don’t want to see Poteau again?’

‘Don’t fuss, quite sure. I was talking to the boy, Marcus … he had been swimming.’

‘I said I’d go with him. But not at dawn … before breakfast, I said.’ He kissed her on the top of her head, sat on the edge of her bed. ‘We sat up quite late talking. He’s an interesting chap. Can’t quite put him together: schooling, background, that sort of thing. But one can’t really with the young today, can one? All so amazingly classless, egalitarian. I suppose it’s all this Socialist stuff, you know what I mean? Speaks perfectly well, knows the drill socially: no gaffes at table, that sort of thing. But not Public School, pretty certain of that; not gauche, quite collected, sure of himself … not unpleasantly, a perfectly acceptable young man. Didn’t really talk about himself.’ Subconscious unease had made him garrulous.

‘Probably didn’t have much chance, if I know you. I bet you battered the poor creature with French history. Did you show him your museum?’

‘Museum! I keep asking you. Yes. Naturally. Something to talk about, you know. After all, a perfect stranger at one’s table. It is a bit difficult. He seemed very interested. Quite astonished, I do admit, about L’Aiglon.’

She turned on the low dressing-stool, an open letter in her hand. ‘l’Aiglon?’

‘Yes. Extraordinary. The resemblance. He looks exactly like him. A pea in a pod. It’s perfectly amazing. Didn’t you notice yourself?’

‘I’ve only seen him practically naked and soaking wet, dear…’

‘Course. Of course. I’m sorry. I suddenly realized it last evening. Couldn’t think who he reminded me of and then I got it. Like that. He was pretty surprised himself. Showed him the portraits and so on, told him the whole story. Well … once I’d made the remark I had to follow through. He was frightfully intrigued, I could see that … never heard of him of course; I suppose that’s not on the School Curriculum, his school anyway, wherever that was. Such a coincidence, you do see?’

Cuckoo folded the letter carefully, slid it back into its envelope. ‘Oh, I do see. How lovely for you! And here’s beloved Bruna with coffee.’

And Bruna, anxious and surprised; to be reassured from purse-lipped worry to a grudging smile. ‘A naked man in the kitchen at six o’clock and me in a shift.’