‘Yes, O.K.’

He went away, leaving me to reflect that I did still tire infernally easily. Must be old age, I grinned to myself, old age at thirty-one. Old tired battered Sid Halley, poor old chap. I grimaced at the ceiling.

A nurse came in for the evening jobs.

‘You’ve got a parcel,’ she said brightly, as if speaking to a retarded child. ‘Aren’t you going to open it?’

I had forgotten about Charles’ parcel.

‘Would you like me to open it for you? I mean, you can’t find things like opening parcels very easy with a hand like yours.’

She was only being kind. ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Thank you.’

She snipped through the wrappings with scissors from her pocket and looked dubiously at the slim dark book she found inside.

‘I suppose it is meant for you? I mean somehow it doesn’t seem like things people usually give patients.’

She put the book into my right hand and I read the title embossed in gold on the cover. Outline of Company Law.

‘My father-in-law left it on purpose. He meant it for me.’

‘Oh well, I suppose it’s difficult to think of things for people who can’t eat grapes and such.’ She bustled around, efficient and slightly bullying, and finally left me alone again.

Outline of Company Law. I riffled through the pages. It was certainly a book about company law. Solidly legal. Not light entertainment for an invalid. I put the book on the table.

Charles Roland was a man of subtle mind, and subtlety gave him much pleasure. It hadn’t been my parentage that he had objected to so much as what he took to be Jenny’s rejection of his mental standards in choosing a jockey for a husband. He’d never met a jockey before, disliked the idea of racing, and took it for granted that everyone engaged in it was either a rogue or a moron. He’d wanted both his daughters to marry clever men, clever more than handsome or well-born or rich, so that he could enjoy their company. Jill had obliged him with Tony, Jenny disappointed him with me: that was how he saw it, until he found that at least I could play chess with him now and then.