The plumpish escort and the petite sixty-year-old woman we saw at reception appear. The older woman is probably her mother.

They are walking along, looking disheartened, hand in hand, all but forgotten by the world.

With an awkward and inelegant gesture, the young woman adjusts the very short shorts that have become annoyingly wedged between her buttocks.

Mick Boyle is sitting on a bench going over his work notes. He becomes aware of the women’s presence and looks up. Straightaway his eyes take on a melancholic air as he notices that the mother and young girl are walking along hand in hand.

Behind the vast heights of the Alps it is becoming light, just as the frost is melting and dripping off the leaves of the garden’s sumptuous plants.

7

A tiny girl of eighteen with delicate features, the very picture of shyness, is giving Fred a massage. He is lying face down on a treatment table.

Lena is by the window of their suite; she notices a man sitting at the edge of the lawn.

“The man who levitates is down there, sitting right below us.”

“I’ve been coming here for years. He’s never ever been able to levitate. So, tell me, where’ve you decided to go in the end?” Fred asks.

“As ever, Julian wants to overdo things. Two weeks in Polynesia.”

“Excellent.”

“You’ll be happy to have the room all to yourself. I was getting under your feet,” she says in a friendly way.

“Not at all. You were keeping me company. Mick’s working and I’m just bored.”

“You won’t be bored. I’ve booked you the full treatment. Massages, saunas, check-ups, doctors, all day long. That way you’ll get back in shape.”

“It’s a waste of time getting back in shape at my age. And all that’ll be even more boring for me.”

“You do know you’re suffering from apathy, don’t you? Why don’t you go to Venice for the day? You could take Ma some flowers.”

Fred makes no reply.

The masseuse is discreet, acting as if she cannot hear.

Lena continues speaking: “By the way, the French keep writing to me every day. They want that book of memoirs from you. What should I do?”

“Let them want it.”

She stares at her father’s naked body. A body showing all the signs of age. A wave of tenderness crosses her face.

Sadly, she takes her leave. “See you, Pa. I’ll call you when I get there.”

“Have fun.”

Lena takes hold of the luggage trolley and leaves the room.

“Would you mind lying on your back now?” the masseuse asks. She has the voice of a little girl. Making an effort, Fred arranges himself on his back. She starts to work on his arms.

Ballinger closes his eyes, but suddenly he secretly opens one a little, just to observe the young masseuse.

*

And so the everyday routine of this enormous complex starts to come alive as it provides the services of hotel, health spa, clinic, sports and physical rehabilitation centre, all at the same time, with its set rhythms and well-ordered timetables.