Of course I woke up with a dead arm, but the feeling of her head resting just below mine was still so novel and delightful that I lay there while she slept on. It was just getting light outside as she stirred.

‘What’s the time..?’

‘No idea,’ I said, turning to see if she had a clock by the bed. ‘Oh…about eight.’

After a second her head shot up. ‘What?? That’s impossible…’ She shifted herself across me and I had a distracting glimpse down the front of her night-dress as she grabbed at the clock. She stared at the face as if she could change it by sheer will-power. ‘That’s…it couldn’t…’ Her head fell forward and she almost dropped the clock back onto the table. ‘Every morning of my adult life I’ve woken up at half-past six – seven if I’ve been particularly tired. What have you done to me?’ She raised her head and looked at me. ‘You realise we’ll both be late. How long have you been awake?’

‘Maybe an hour.’

‘Why didn’t you wake me?’ She heaved herself back onto her side of the bed and sat up on the edge.

I reached out and took her shoulders, leaning my head around to look at her profile. After a second I realised what I’d done, but it seemed entirely natural at the moment of action. ‘Does it really matter?’ I asked gently.

‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘No, it doesn’t. But I’m sorry, anyway…my job isn’t important, especially after tomorrow, but yours…’

‘It’ll be all right. I don’t sort the paper rounds or anything like that – he won’t miss me ‘til about half-nine.’

She stood up and took down her dressing gown from where it hung on the corner of the wardrobe door. ‘I’d better see what there is for breakfast.’

She went out. I lay back for a minute. The whole situation seemed unreal in the half-light of a December morning. I felt relaxed but oddly empty. Was it because nothing had happened? Would I have felt worse if it had? I reluctantly decided she was right; it would have been a mistake.

I got up and pulled on my trousers. They still seemed slightly damp, but it may have been the effect of the cold. There was ice inside the bedroom window.

I drew the curtains and made the bed, then went into the main room. She had put on the heater, and as I went over to look out of the window she came towards me with a plate and a mug.

‘Only toast, I’m afraid, and no marmalade.’

I shook my head to show her it didn’t matter. I stood by the window absently munching the toast; she went back into the kitchen and returned with a mug of her own. I looked at her; she seemed to read my question in my face and shrugged. ‘I don’t often have breakfast.’

I couldn’t rid myself of the suspicion that I was eating the last food in the place, but I didn’t want to embarrass her.

I found myself staring, unable to look away from her. Where only minutes before the events of last night had seemed like a dream, as she stood there she suddenly appeared to me to be the only point of reality in the world. Everything else was utterly mundane and unimportant by comparison. My job, my writing, her adventures, even Caro…nothing seemed to matter but her.

She saw the intensity of my stare and dropped her eyes.

I couldn’t make out what it was that had changed, why I suddenly saw her so differently. It wasn’t a physical thing – nothing to do with what might have happened. I just knew I could have stayed there all day, forever, just talking to her, being there for her when she was lonely, drinking tea and taking walks and getting wet and lying awake with her in my arms and all the rest of it. I put my plate down on the window-sill and stepped towards her.

‘Look, it doesn’t matter about work. I’ve never been sick before; it’s about time I took a day. I could easily have caught something in that rain, after all. Why don’t we just stay here…we can talk about your next couple of adventures, or go out somewhere, or—’

She raised a hand. She was eyeing me with some concern. ‘I have no right to tell you what to do, so I won’t. But I am going to work today. I can’t afford to have a single black mark against me when I leave the survey team.’

I felt a ridiculous stab of pain. ‘A-all right,’ I muttered. ‘We’ll meet tonight, then?’

She hesitated. ‘I’m not sure that’s wise.’

‘Why not?’

Her face was very serious and abruptly I felt a fool. What was I doing? Was I so immature that one cuddle could change the way I looked at everything?

‘I’m sorry…’ I said. ‘I don’t know what I was thinking. Well, I wasn’t thinking. It’s…’ I looked at her and I wanted to hold her, to reassure her that I wasn’t just some stupid child who couldn’t control his emotions. And I realised that would be a mistake, would only confirm her fears. I tried to find something to say that would show her I understood. ‘I…think I can see now why you didn’t want to get into all this. I didn’t realise…I think I love you.’

She burst into a peal of laughter.

I stood and stared, crushed. Then, in the middle of recovering herself she looked at me with such undisguised affection that my brain seemed to right itself. I realised what a fool I must seem. I hadn’t known myself what I was going to say until it came out. I sat down on the window-sill, catching the edge of the plate and tipping it up. She laughed again and stepped forward to rescue it, brushing the crumbs from my trousers. Her touch sent a shock through me. I was seized again by the impulse to grab her. I went as far as lifting my hands, and her bare arms were only inches away, but then I pulled my hands back.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, still smiling broadly, ‘but it was so unexpected. I’m…flattered, but you must know you’re just in shock from last night. You’ll get over it.’

I nodded numbly and sighed. ‘ "A song of love is a sad song…" ’

She cocked an eyebrow at me. ‘You won’t get me with that one. From Lili, right? Leslie Caron?’

‘Uh…try Mannfred Mann.’

‘Oh.’ She still looked amused. ‘Do you want some more tea?’

‘Have we got time?’

She looked down at herself. ‘I have to get dressed yet. Is that a yes?’

‘Please.’

I watched her walk away. I felt a little more under control, although there was a little part of me that was still smarting from her laughter. She was right, of course – it was stupid. I could only think that the unexpected-ness of the experience, coupled with her obvious vulnerability, had infected me with a temporary kind of madness. I could only hope she’d forgive me – although from her behaviour it seemed she felt there was little to forgive.

While she dressed I stayed by the window, looking out at the street. We had agreed to travel together, since we were heading the same way. By the time she was ready to go I felt more like myself – but I still wanted to see her that evening.

‘I’ll think about it,’ she said as she turned off the heater. ‘If I meet you at the café for a drink, then we can decide, all right?’

We went towards the door. ‘I’m all right now – really.’

She smiled. ‘Yes…I think you are. But be careful. It was quite flattering, but a bit frightening, as well. What on earth would Caro have made of all that?’

‘Oh God.’ There was a lot I wasn’t going to be able to tell Caro tomorrow.

Barbara laughed, not unkindly, and took my arm as we went down the stairs. I was expecting the landlady’s door to react to our presence but there was no sign of anyone. ‘Just as well,’ said Barbara softly, and we crept out.

The tube ride was spent in silence, but I felt strangely at ease. However stupidly I had behaved, we had broken through some kind of barrier the previous night, and some of that closeness remained. But I was beginning to worry about Caro.

I resisted the temptation to walk Barbara to the community centre. Instead we said goodbye at the tube station. She pressed her lips to my cheek and squeezed my hand, but I had not gone four paces when she called my name. When I turned she was looking at me with a kind of smug expression.

‘Conrad…when you used to get mad at school – was it because the teachers who taught you weren’t cool?’

I stared at her. ‘Now you’re showing off,’ I said eventually.

‘Just to let you know I’m not a complete fogy,’ she laughed, and turned away.

I went home first, avoiding Mrs Muller’s gently inquisitive stare, then phoned Mr Stephenson at the shop and told him that I’d been caught overnight at a friend’s. He was reasonable enough about it and just told me to get in as soon as I could. I had a very quick bath and went along there.

Working turned out to be a useful diversion. Simply keeping busy gave me time to master my emotions. I still couldn’t understand quite what had come over me at breakfast, but even in a more sober frame of mind I felt that Barbara was very special. But more special than Caro? I couldn’t answer that. I had been looking forward to our day together, but now I was afraid there’d be too much unspoken business between us. And all of it on my side.

The afternoon passed slowly but I was quite glad of that – it gave me the opportunity to gather myself for my evening rendezvous with Barbara. I was afraid Mr Stephenson would keep me behind to make up the time I’d lost, but my desire for distraction made me work harder than usual and he was quite happy to let me go at six.

There was someone sitting at the bus stop just along from the shop. In the darkness I didn’t give the figure a second glance and it wasn’t until I was passing the stop that I saw it was Caro. She stood up slowly. ‘I was waiting for you.’

‘Oh..?’ I felt immediately guilty and wary. Was she expecting us to spend the evening together? How would she feel if she knew I was meeting Barbara?

She looked underwhelmed by my lack of response. ‘Well, the least you could do is kiss me, if you can’t say any more than that.’

‘Sorry. It must be work – I haven’t come back to the real world yet.’ I reached out to her, trying not to show the awkwardness I felt. But she saw it instantly and stepped back, folding her arms. ‘What’s the matter with you?’

I held my arms out for a moment, then let them drop. ‘It’s a long story. I’ve…had a bit of a shock, I suppose.’

Her guarded expression softened slightly; she could sense this was the truth. ‘And would this shock be another one of these things you can’t tell me about?’

‘Uh…uh…’

‘I’ll take that as a yes.’

‘It’s "I don’t know". Maybe tomorrow. I have to think over some stuff first.’

She put her head on one side. ‘So I’m already being packed off for the evening, am I?’

‘No! That is…well, I have other plans…so, yes, I’m sorry…’

‘Just as well I have other plans, too. Is this your mature mistress again?’

My utterly unjustifiable stab of jealousy at the idea she had plans was washed away by a throbbing tide of guilt at her casual question. After a second of terror I decided to take a risk. ‘Yes. I’m meeting her at the café – you know, the one by the Centre. D’you want to come?’

She looked at her watch. ‘Well, I can say hi. Then I’ll have to go.’

We started to walk. I wanted to put my arm around her shoulders but it already felt too much of a presumption. ‘Where are you going tonight?’ I asked, more to make conversation than for any other reason.

She gave me sidelong look. ‘What are you going to talk to Barbara about?’

I understood and we walked without speaking the rest of the way.

As we reached the café I realised it was still only twenty past six; Barbara would be in the Centre for at least another forty minutes. Suddenly I hoped Caro would not have to leave too soon. I touched her arm as we paused by the door; she looked up at me and suddenly I had the impression she had been about to speak.

‘Yeah?’ she said.

‘Were you going to say something?’

She was silent for a moment. ‘You first.’

‘I was going to say…how soon do you have to go?’

She shrugged. ‘Should be about half an hour, could be a bit longer. I’m being picked up here.’

‘You were coming here anyway?’

She gave me a slightly wicked smile. ‘I had intended to buy you a coffee.’

I pushed open the door. ‘Let me pay. I think I owe it to you. I must talk to you.’

‘I think I’ve been trying to tell you that for days…’ she murmured as I steered her towards the counter.

When we were seated I spent some moments thinking about my approach, while she sat back and watched me with an amused air. After I had been silent for a minute she looked casually at her watch.

‘Sorry. This isn’t easy.’ I leaned forward and tried to take her hand, but she pulled it out of reach. Her face gave me a mild warning. I sat back. ‘And you’re not gonna help me, are you?’

She flashed her devilish grin again. ‘I feel like I’ve got you at my mercy and I’m enjoying the feeling. So talk.’

‘All right.’ I decided to play it as straight as I dared. ‘Barbara has had…certain unique experiences. Most people find them hard to accept – hard to believe. I managed to persuade her that I might be able to give her a more…open-minded hearing.’

‘So are you going to tell me something about what kind of "experiences" these are?’

‘I…need to talk to Barbara first. I don’t see that she’d mind you hearing – after all, her usual problem is to get people to listen at all – but I have to be sure. I’ll ask her tonight, and we can talk tomorrow.’

‘I haven’t decided,’ said Caro, ‘whether you deserve me all to yourself tomorrow.’

Something in her voice told me she was relenting already, that the game-playing was almost over. Encouraged, I reached for her hand again and this time she surrendered it.

‘Oh,’ she said suddenly, ‘we’ve been invited to a Christmas party tomorrow night. Or at least I’ve been asked and I can bring someone. Some friends of my brother. Fancy it?’

‘Um…well, yeah…’

‘Should be good. Possibility of a Stone or two, or some Animals…’

‘Really?’

‘Der bruder moves in very exalted circles.’

‘Great.’ I pulled her hand up to my lips. ‘Look, I am incredibly sorry about the way I’ve been today…about all the secrecy, everything. You’ll understand better tomorrow.’

She nodded. ‘Okay. Apology accepted. But answer me one thing.’

‘Anything.’

‘How did you and Barbara actually meet? You’re not in the survey, I know Dennis or Jimmy didn’t introduce you because I asked them…’ she let the sentence trail off and looked at me enquiringly. ‘Well?’

I would have given a lot at that moment for the power to control my blood flow. My face grew hot.

Caro laughed softly and shook her head. ‘I can handle you fancying her. I think she’s got a lot of character. Better than chasing after that brainless blonde like Dennis and Jimmy. But don’t let it get out of hand.’ She leaned forward, put her free hand on the back of my neck and pulled me across the table to meet her mouth. After a few moments she released me. ‘You might not have enough energy for both of us.’

I smiled at her, partly out of sheer relief. At that moment she looked every bit as wonderful to me as Barbara had earlier in the day. Something of my feelings must have shown on my face; Caro looked at me with something bordering on concern. ‘What is up with you? You look very odd.’

‘I…seem to be riding a kind of emotional roller-coaster at the moment. Right now, I’m practically ready to marry you.’

Her face registered mild shock. ‘If I thought you were serious we’d be saying goodbye right now.’

‘It’s all right,’ I smiled at her. ‘I’ll get over it.’

‘I hope so.’ She brushed a hand at the air. ‘To erase the lingering echo of the "m" word – what did you think of the rehearsal? We didn’t get a chance to talk properly about it.’

‘Honestly?’

She frowned, but said: ‘I demand nothing less.’

‘I think Rob’s losing interest. On a couple of occasions he was holding everyone else back.’

She nodded. ‘Yeah. Well, that’s not exactly what’s happening. Two things are going on – well, two related things. One: Rob doesn’t like the fact that I have more good ideas than he does. Two: he wants to get into my panties.’

She said it straight without a trace of self-consciousness so I tried to respond in kind. ‘So he’s sulking.’

‘In a nutshell.’

‘Do the others know?’

‘Rob’s not exactly making it a secret. I think if he doesn’t get what he wants, he’ll try to push me out. And the others’ll have to go with him on it – they’ve been together too long.’

‘But they can’t—’

‘Oh, who cares what they do?’ she threw her hands in the air. ‘Plenty of other things I can move into. Better groups.’

‘But it would be a shame,’ I told her sincerely. ‘You’ve just started to make a real difference.’

This seemed to touch her. ‘Thanks. It’d be nice to…’ She shook her head. ‘But if he doesn’t stop acting like such a wanker…’

Someone approached the table. It was Barbara. If she was surprised to see Caro it didn’t show; she smiled at both of us and gestured at our empty cups. ‘Good evening. Can I offer you both a refill?’

‘You’re early,’ I said.

‘Oh, have I interrupted something?’

She directed this at Caro, who made a dismissive gesture. ‘I’ve worn him out; you can have what’s left.’

‘You won’t stay for another cup?’ persisted Barbara.

Caro looked at her watch. ‘I should be picked up any minute. Thanks anyway.’ She eased herself out from behind the table and leaned over as she passed, planting a kiss on the side of my mouth. ‘I leave him to your tender ministrations…’ she murmured to Barbara.

Barbara turned to watch her walk away. ‘That’s a very unusual young woman.’

‘I’m beginning to realise just how unusual.’

Barbara reached down and laid a hand on my arm, fixing me with a serious stare. ‘Well, don’t let her get away. Sit tight; I’ll get you some more coffee.’

I sat with various emotions chasing each other around my head for two or three minutes until Barbara seated herself opposite me and said, with a nod of her head towards the door: ‘She’s just been picked up by a very posh sports car.’

I looked round automatically, although I sensed it was too late. I wasn’t too concerned; I had a strong feeling that Caro would have told me if her date tonight was anything for me to worry about.

Which didn’t make me feel any better about the way I’d been behaving.

I looked at the woman opposite me and tried to connect her with the person I went to bed with the previous night. Then I tried to connect her with the feelings I’d had that morning. ‘What the hell’s happening to me? I can’t seem to keep my head straight for ten minutes at the moment. Half an hour with Caro and I’m ready to commit my life to her. By the time I’ve finished this coffee I’ll probably be in love with you again.’

‘Then I strongly suggest you leave it unfinished,’ she said as she lifted her own cup. She took a sip, then said: ‘Seriously, if you’ll allow me to conjecture…I think the problem is that you’re very strongly attracted to both of us, but for very different reasons. I’m not surprised you’re getting confused. But there’s no doubt in my mind where you should be concentrating your attention.’

After my powerful feelings of the morning I felt I would be betraying her by agreeing. But I did. ‘I’m sorry I was such a berk earlier. Thanks for bearing with me. It won’t happen again.’

‘Oh?’ she managed a wonderful look of mock-disappointment. ‘And after I’ve bought you coffee and everything…’

‘Serves you right for thinking I was easy. Anyway,’ I put my elbows on the table and leaned close to her, ‘what did you decide about tonight?’

She spread her hands. ‘Actually I hadn’t…I don’t know…I think you’re safe to be with now, but still…’

I was haunted by the suspicion she had no money to feed me, and I sprang my master plan on her. ‘Look…you said you wanted to meet Mrs Muller. You know, my landlady? Well, I called her and asked if it would be all right to have a guest to tea. So we can go to mine.’

‘Are you sure it would be all right? Um…and I don’t want to cause problems, but you did remember I don’t eat meat—’

‘Mrs Muller’s been vegetarian all her life, practically. It’ll be fine. Trust me. Now drink up and let’s go.’

It was more than fine. Mrs Muller, always strangely pleased at the prospect of putting herself out for someone, actually excelled herself. I could see Barbara was a little overwhelmed by the abundance of the spread; Mrs Muller covered herself by saying she had to take advantage of any occasion she could get me to sit down at the table and eat "real food".

The talk at the table was initially polite and general; Barbara and Mrs Muller shared a fondness for Spencer Tracy and lamented his death. This led on to remarks about how many film stars seemed to have died during the year; Basil Rathbone, Claude Rains, Vivien Leigh and Jayne Mansfield (this last, I confess, was my own contribution – I’d experienced a horrified fascination at the thought of the poor woman’s decapitation). It then turned out that both Barbara and Mrs Muller had been hugely impressed by Paul Scofield’s performance in A Man For All Seasons. This took them onto the subject of sainthood, where things began to warm up. By this time we were finishing, and Mrs Muller happily accepted Barbara’s offer to help with the washing up. This was almost unheard-of; the Muller kitchen was practically hallowed ground. I was told to sit down and watch the TV while they cleared up, but I took advantage of the break to shoot upstairs and check my room was tidy (it wasn’t, because I’d been in a bit of hurry to get to work that morning) – in case we went up later. The way the two women were getting on, though, I suspected we’d be spending the evening in the sitting room.

When they came back through, carrying a tray of tea, they had progressed to the use of first names. This was another first; Mrs Muller – "Wiltrud" – was a kindly soul, but usually very reserved with strangers.

‘That is all very well, Barbara,’ Mrs Muller was saying as they put down the tea things, ‘for strong-minded, intelligent souls such as yourself. But without a focus – a personalised focus – for their worship, many people cannot rise above themselves.’

‘I suppose that’s true. But I can’t help feeling it’s dangerous…well, at least a waste of time to point people in the wrong direction.’

‘It is not for you or I to look into the soul of another and say what is right for them.’ Mrs Muller sat on the settee and lifted the teapot experimentally, swishing the tea inside as if she could tell whether or not it had brewed. She obviously decided not and put the pot down. She looked at me. ‘Your friend is most remarkable. She has great learning.’

‘I have almost no learning,’ Barbara protested. ‘And even that is too much.’

I looked at Barbara in perplexion, but Mrs Muller only nodded. ‘Yes, the busy mind is the greatest obstacle.’

I wasn’t sure I liked this. It was great that they were getting on so well, but they seemed to be talking in a language of their own. It had never occurred to me that I might feel jealous of Mrs Muller for any reason, but now I wanted to take Barbara upstairs, to talk to her privately.

‘What do you do,’ Barbara was asking, ‘…to still the mind? Some kind of mantra?’

Mrs Muller hesitated. She was looking at Barbara closely and seemed to be weighing something in her mind. ‘One moment.’ She got up and went out of the room. Barbara turned to me. ‘Thank you for this idea. She’s wonderful.’

This was a radically new vision of Mrs Muller as far as I was concerned, but it seemed pointless to say so. I wondered if I had undervalued her; she had always seemed essentially harmless if slightly dotty, and I had never taken too much notice when she had mentioned her spiritual interests.

She came back bearing a simple cross of some veined white stone, set on a small round base. She handed this to Barbara, who cradled in it her hands as if it was priceless. ‘You focus on this? I…I’ve always found Christianity too…well, too complex to inspire me.’

Mrs Muller shrugged. ‘It was not so for Eckhart, or Tauler – or its founder.’

‘No,’ conceded Barbara. ‘Even if it hadn’t been essential for his mission, I think in some ways Jesus was lucky to die when he did – before he saw what they made of his life and words. The one great immortal blemish of mankind, Nietzsche called it.’

‘Christianity?’ Mrs Muller sat down and picked up the teapot again. ‘Perhaps. There is no way to tell what the world might have been without it. There have been many wars in Christ’s name – but there have always been wars. And many have been inspired to great heights by Christ’s example and sacrifice.’ She began to pour.

‘But don’t you feel Christianity – as it is now – sells the human race short? Christ said something about anyone being able to achieve greater miracles than he did – that’s never highlighted.’

‘ "…if ye shall say unto this mountain, be thou removed, and be thou cast into the sea: it shall be done",’ quoted Mrs Muller. ‘Matthew 21, verse 21.’ She passed a full teacup to Barbara. ‘And yet, such sayings are dangerous. They may lead men to believe that the performance of miracles is of significance, when all Christ intended was to emphasise the power of faith.’

Barbara nodded. ‘All he was saying was that we are all children of God.’

‘Assuming you think God exists,’ I couldn’t resist putting in.

They both looked at me rather pityingly. ‘This word "God" has unfortunate associations,’ admitted Mrs Muller. ‘Perhaps one could put it thus; to say that God exists is only to say that there is Existence.’

‘Pantheism,’ I pointed out.

Mrs Muller smiled. ‘You classify the Absolute and then feel you have understood it. You pin a word to the cosmos and turn your mind to other matters.’ She held out a full cup and a small bowl. ‘You will have one sugar, I think?’

I took the tea and sugar. ‘Barbara has promised me,’ I said with a look at her, ‘to tell me something about the way she sees the world. I’m looking forward to it.’

‘But will you hear what she has to say?’

Barbara looked embarrassed. ‘I’m not some fount of wisdom, you understand. I’ve been lucky enough to stumble across a few truths. My understanding may well be imperfect…I can only tell you what I’ve deduced, and that will necessarily be limited by my own mental capacity.’

‘There is nothing wrong with your mind,’ said Mrs Muller. ‘And you were a teacher – an excellent one, I am certain. Conrad will do well to listen to you.’ She looked at me. ‘You are very fortunate to have made such a friend.’

‘I think so too.’ I turned my eyes to Barbara so she could see how much feeling there was in the statement. She seemed to colour very slightly.

‘What will you be doing for Christmas, Barbara?’ said Mrs Muller.

‘Oh.’ Barbara was taken by surprise. ‘Well, I usually go to my mother, in the suburbs, but she’s staying with my sister this year, and…well, it’s a little far for me to go just for a couple of days.’

I wondered if this was the complete truth. I didn’t know exactly how bad her financial situation was. I suddenly thought I had an inkling of what Mrs Muller was going to say.

‘Then you must come here.’

‘Oh, I couldn’t…it wouldn’t be—’

‘It would be my very great pleasure to see you,’ said Mrs Muller firmly. She shifted her eyes to me. ‘And perhaps we could persuade Conrad to visit Eva and his father early, on Christmas Eve, so that he could join us?’

Barbara looked at me, then at Mrs Muller. ‘Well…if you’re sure, Wiltrud…’

‘You’d be saving me from a day trapped in front of the telly at home…’ I put in quickly. I did wonder whether Barbara might have had plans to see Ian, but from her reaction it seemed unlikely. And then I thought of Caro – but Mrs Muller was quicker than me.

‘And what of your young lady? Would she perhaps like to be here?’

‘…I’ll ask her.’

‘Good.’ Mrs Muller lifted her teacup. ‘That is settled, then.’

There was more conversation after that; I tried to keep interested but most of it seemed rather abstract. There was a lot of talk about the "Self" (which I was told was not the small "s" everyday self, for all the good that did me) and how it could be "realised". As far as I could make out the mind seemed to be the greatest obstacle to enlightenment, although paradoxically the mind was necessary to understand the concept in the first place. I soon learned not to interject my own opinions; they started to sound jejune even to me as the evening progressed.

I kept a close watch on the time, in case they got carried away; not that I would have minded Barbara staying, but I needed to speak to her alone and the only time I could be sure of doing so was during the walk to the tube station. In the event Barbara’s politeness precluded the need for my caution; at about ten o’clock she said she had to be going. Mrs Muller accepted this without protest, but told her to come around whenever she wanted.

When we got out on the street Barbara stopped and closed her eyes, drawing in a deep breath. She met my slightly quizzical look with a smile. ‘I feel quite flushed and hot,’ she confessed. ‘I haven’t had a conversation that exciting for years.’

Something in my face must have given me away; she immediately grabbed my arm and leaned close. ‘Not that there’s any comparison with the talks we have,’ she said softly. ‘It’s just…so nice to find someone who understands. Locked away with books, it’s easy to feel that you’re fooling yourself.’

We started along the road. Barbara talked a little more about Mrs Muller and how much she liked her, before remarking on my comparative silence during the evening.

‘Well, there didn’t seem much I could contribute. But it’s okay,’ I said quickly before she could respond. ‘I’m really glad you enjoyed it so much. There…there was something I needed to ask you, actually, but I couldn’t say it in front of Mrs Muller.’

‘All right.’

‘It…it’s about Caro. We’re meeting tomorrow, and I know she’s…well, a little edgy because I haven’t been able to tell her what you and I talk about. I think maybe I’ll have to tell her tomorrow. As a gesture. Um…hell of a gesture, I know.’

‘How do you think she’ll react?’

‘She probably think you’re crazy – then she’ll think I’m crazy for believing you. Hopefully she’ll get over that when she talks to you properly.’

‘Oh – is that on the agenda?’

‘I think it’ll have to be, don’t you – once she knows?’

Barbara considered. ‘Suppose she just dismisses the whole thing?’

‘I don’t think she will. She knows me well enough by now – and I think you intrigue her, anyway.’

‘I’m flattered.’

‘Yeah – you should hear what she thinks of Sally. Anyway,’ I rushed on, to prevent the subject of Sally distracting us, ‘I just wanted to okay it with you. I think it’s important to the trust between us – me and Caro, I mean.’

‘Yes, of course. Just remember – if it comes to a choice between her and me –’ she looked hard at me ‘– you must promise me to keep her friendship. I think you’d be very foolish to do anything else.’

‘I don’t think it’ll come to that.’

‘But you must promise. I won’t be the cause—’

‘All right, all right. I promise. But I’m sure I can at least persuade her to talk to you before she makes any judgements.’

‘We’ll see, won’t we?’ she smiled.

We walked the rest of the way to the station in companionable silence. It had been a strange day. When we parted I kissed Barbara softly on the cheek; she reached up and touched my face for a moment, then turned and walked quickly into the station.