‘I am sure you were mistaken, my dear.’

‘I was not mistaken. Oh, I know perfectly well you have a soft spot for her, Gerard. All those cosy little chats in your study. You don’t think I am blind, do you?’

‘No, not at all, my dear. One couldn’t imagine anyone more eagle-eyed than you. Sometimes you even…’

‘Sometimes I even what, Gerard? See things that are not there? Is that what you were going to say?’

Gerard put on his oblique expression. ‘No, no, not at all.’ Felicity’s getting difficult, he thought, fed up with having to change the topic. ‘Such a blessing, never to have been fond of one’s brother. Thank God he arrived in a hermetically sealed coffin and now of course he is in an urn. We are terribly lucky, you know. In Greece and countries like that relatives are expected to kiss the loved one’s corpse as it lies in the coffin, by way of a final adieu.’

‘You should have given that poached egg a wide berth at breakfast,’ Felicity said sullenly. ‘You’re coming out in spots.’

‘This is not an allergy. It’s a nervous thing.’

She said she didn’t believe he had any nerves. ‘Did you hear about Stephan? Apparently he’s been taken back in.’

‘He should never have been allowed out.’ Gerard Fenwick stole a glance at his watch and said he needed to go to his study. ‘Sorry, my dear, but I am, as they say, being possessed by the Muse, which is also known as the divine furor. It would be unwise to ignore the call. The Muse is capricious and wilful and notoriously unpredictable. I may never get another visit.’

‘What are you going to do in your study?’

‘I am going to write.’

‘You are going to write?’

‘Well, yes. You know perfectly well that’s something I do. Do you have to sound so amazed?’ He paused with his hand on the door handle. ‘I am divided between writing an essay on the subject of funeral cortèges and a bitter-sweet story of a chap who realizes he is in love with his wife’s former secretary.’