Blackman had to leave on business early the next morning, so there was no point in the rest of us staying. Guy would drive us all back; he stood firm despite Caro’s pleas to be allowed to get behind the wheel at least part of the way.

Blackman left before us, but he dropped into the dining room while we were having breakfast to say goodbye. It may have been my imagination, but it seemed that he looked particularly long and hard at me as we shook hands.

On the way back I realised with a shock that I had hardly thought about Barbara for twenty four hours. I was looking forward to seeing her now, though – if only to describe the house and its owner. And to ask her advice; I was unsure what to do about this trip to the Middle East. Caro and Guy were in no doubt that I should come, but something in me held back. I didn’t know if Barbara could make it any clearer for me, but I wanted someone to listen while I talked it through to myself.

Caro had made another attempt to persuade me; she couldn’t grasp what could possibly prevent me from accepting if it wasn’t the money. I couldn’t blame her, since I didn’t fully understand it myself. I recalled Barbara’s warning about the seductive power of money, but I was certain this wasn’t the sort of thing she had been talking about. In my turn I was still trying to coax Caro into giving the group another shot; and there was another thing that occurred to me while we were discussing it.

‘Early on,’ I said, ‘you told me that the singing was only one of the things you were doing. If you’re suddenly free to jet off for three weeks, what happened to all the others?’ I felt I was being unfair and I didn’t like myself for it, but I was desperately trying to find something that would keep her with me.

We were still in the car when I asked this, with Roxie on one side and Vee and Guy in front, and Caro looked uncomfortable. ‘There’s nothing that can’t wait ‘til I come back,’ she said in a low voice.

That ended conversation for a while; no one else spoke until Guy said he would drop me off first. I asked Caro whether she wanted to spend the rest of the day at mine; she shook her head, but then said she’d call me later in the day. I had to be satisfied with that and a brief kiss when I got out of the car. She smiled at me as I turned up the path, but I went to the front door feeling like a failure.

Mrs Muller opened the door just as I got there. ‘Welcome back.’

I found nothing to say. All I wanted, suddenly, was to see Barbara. Mrs Muller frowned at me and seemed to read the question in my face. ‘Barbara has gone out. Is something wrong?’

There was no intelligible answer I could give. I made an excuse about being tired and went straight up to my room. I stretched out on my bed and lay there feeling miserable.

It was ridiculous. I’d just enjoyed two spectacular sessions in a double bed with the girl who seemed to be my whole world at the moment, and I had the opportunity to get away from the dreary wetness of London and spend three weeks in her company. What was wrong with me? Why couldn’t I just say yes and start feeling better?

I don’t know how long I lay there before the gentle knock came on the door. Perhaps she thought I might be asleep, because the door inched open immediately to reveal Barbara’s face.

‘Thank God,’ I said, sitting up. ‘Come in.’

She hesitated, waving a hand in the direction of downstairs. ‘Mrs Muller’s making a cup of tea. I was going to have some; shall I bring you up a cup?’

‘Uhhh…yes, all right.’

The wait seemed endless. Finally she reappeared with two cups. ‘Mrs Muller said you looked a bit upset when you got back.’

How long ago had that been? I looked at the clock, but I had no clear idea when I’d arrived here. Was it three hours? ‘Where did you go?’ I asked

She looked mildly disturbed and I realised I was being rude. ‘Sorry. Sorry. It’s just…I really need to talk.’

‘Well, you’ve listened to me for weeks. I shall be glad to return the favour.’ She came over and handed me my tea before settling down in the chair, crossing her legs and resting her teacup on her knee. ‘What’s wrong?’

Where to start? I took a sip of the tea. ‘Remember when we talked about how I was afraid…afraid of life? I think it’s come back to haunt me, that fear.’

‘Is…is there a problem with Caro?’

‘Yes and no. We’re fine….better than fine, after last night. But I’ve been offered a chance to go away with her – and I feel like I don’t want to.’ She said nothing, merely looked encouraging, and I went on and told her everything that seemed relevant to the way I was feeling. When I had finished, she sat for a few moments pondering.

‘Why do you think, ‘she said eventually, ‘that you’re hesitating? Try to answer without turning it over too much.’

‘I don’t want to go to the Middle East.’

‘Is it that area that’s the problem, or..?’

‘I’ve just never been interested in travel. I like England. I was thinking only a little while ago how wet and dull London is, but I think I like that.’

‘It’s what you’re used to.’

‘Something like that.’

She lifted her teacup, but it never made it to her lips. ‘If someone had told me what would happen to me, that night Ian and I followed Susan, I would have run home and locked myself in, I’m sure. And yet, that part of my life makes everything else – Advaita aside for a moment – seem trivial. Now, I wouldn’t exchange that adventure for anything.’

‘Are you telling me I should take the chance and go?’

‘No. Actually, I don’t know what I’m saying. It’s very easy to know, with hindsight, what was the right choice. But if my time with the Doctor was so exciting, I should be ready to leap back into the TARDIS the moment it appears. And I’m not – I wouldn’t do that. And nor would Ian. What does that say? That there’s a time for adventures, and a time to settle down – or simply that human beings are naturally un-adventurous?’

‘Not all of them are. And besides, I’m not sure if that comes into it. I mean – how many people would turn this down? This hardly even rates as an adventure.’

‘It does to you. I…I assume it’s nothing to do with your feelings for Caro, this hesitation?’

‘No. I want to be with her.’

‘And nothing to do with me?’

I considered. ‘Hmn. Actually, don’t be offended, but I didn’t give you a thought.’

She laughed. ‘That’s fine. Just eliminating the possibilities. So, the only answer is that it’s something to do with you – not necessarily a problem, just something in you that doesn’t feel the need to travel. Just because most people don’t feel like that doesn’t make it wrong.’

‘But…but Caro..! That’s the fu—that’s the point of this, isn’t it? Why the hell don’t I want to go, just to be with her?’

‘It is only three weeks.’

‘I thought you’d been in love. Three days would feel like a year at the moment.’

She smiled. ‘So…you’re in love, are you?’

‘Is that so funny?’

Her smile disappeared. ‘No. No, it’s not funny at all. I’m sorry. But listen to you,’ she said very softly, ‘who wanted to ravish me thirty six hours ago.’

‘That was different.’ I looked at her face. ‘Oh, I don’t know how, but it was different. It felt right then. Caro feels right now. And this trip doesn’t.’

She sipped her tea. ‘Would it help if I reminded you that Ramana Maharshi would say that whether or not you go on this trip has already been decided? Nothing you can do or say will affect that?’

‘I suppose it would take the pressure off – if I believed it.’

‘Is it so ridiculous?’

I considered. ‘Yes, it is. You can’t make me believe that absolutely everything I do, that everyone does, is totally predetermined. Life wouldn’t be worth living.’

‘But if you don’t know what’s going to happen,’ she persisted gently, ‘does it matter? You can make as many plans as you like, try to carry them out, and if they don’t work – well, then, they weren’t meant to. It’s been proven that we can condition the behaviour of rats and dogs by giving them certain stimuli, certain signals – why wouldn’t a divine intelligence be able to determine our behaviour in a similar way?’

‘We’re back to God again.’

‘However you define the term, everything comes back to God.’

I looked at her sitting there, and if felt as though I had known her all my life. I felt a surge of affection for her. ‘I wish I had your faith.’

She smiled a little self-consciously. ‘I wish I had the faith you credit me with. You’ve seen how easily it breaks down.’

‘Has Ian called you? Was it him you went to see?’

‘Actually, I just went for a walk. Oh, I did call on Sally, but she’s not at home at the moment.’

Should I tell her? ‘How long is it since you spoke to her? Did you try her boyfriend?’

‘Mike? I suppose I could have…’ She looked narrowly at me. ‘What is it? Do you know something?’

I was fed up with secrets, so I told her. She looked slightly shocked at first, but soon she was simply concerned. ‘I hope she knows what she’s doing.’

‘Will she get into trouble with the people who run the survey?’

‘I don’t know. I hadn’t considered that.’ She smiled suddenly. ‘If there are rules about that sort of thing, I evidently wasn’t considered worth telling.’

‘That was a mistake. You quiet types are the worst.’

‘Look who’s talking.’

We sat in companionable silence for about a minute, until I said: ‘Well, this hasn’t really got me any nearer to solving my problem, but for some reason I feel a lot better. Thanks.’

‘Glad to oblige.’ Something was distracting her. ‘I wonder if I should talk to Sally. I know she was a bit frustrated with Mike, but still…Dennis is so young…’

‘Remember – whatever you do won’t affect the outcome. If it’s meant to be…’

She gave me a sort-of grimacing smile. ‘Que sera, sera…well, I suppose she’s mature enough to make up her own mind. But please don’t make a habit of turning my own arguments back on me – I shall probably get irritated.’

I grinned at her. She had made me feel better. But what was I going to do?

Caro phoned at eight that evening. I was due to go back to work the next day, so we agreed to meet in the city centre on Friday and have a look around the sales. We both made an effort to avoid contentious topics, so the conversation was slightly strained.

‘Dennis called me,’ she said just as I was thinking I should ring off. ‘I was quite surprised, actually. They stood up to Rob, and he said he was quitting. They’ve asked him back – now the idea is he and I will both be at the rehearsal tomorrow evening and we’ll talk it out.’

‘D’you think that’ll work? I mean, will you ask him for an apology, or what?’ I was wondering why she hadn’t asked me to be there.

‘It’s a total waste of time,’ she said. ‘They’ll take him back – they didn’t expect him to walk out at all. I’ll go, show willing, but I’m not expecting anything.’

I caught myself marvelling at the change in her. She was back to her old self; there was no trace of the feline Daddy’s girl I had seen at her home. ‘Shouldn’t I be there to offer you a bit of support?’

‘I don’t think your presence would help. It’ll give Rob something else to get angry about. And I don’t want your friendship with any of them compromised because of me. You’ve known them longer than I have.’

I felt slightly ashamed of suspecting her motives for keeping me out. ‘Well, if you’re sure…’

‘I think it’s best. I expect the battle to be bloody, but short.’ She paused. ‘Um…maybe I could come see you after, if it’s over early? I might need a shoulder to curse on.’

‘Of course.’

‘How would your landlady feel about me staying the night?’

‘Heh?’

‘Well, if we’re going shopping the next morning there’s hardly any point…’

‘Shall we climb that slope when we come to it? You might end up having a cracking rehearsal – and deciding you don’t want to go abroad after all.’

‘Don’t,’ she said quietly. ‘Look – take care. I’ll see you Friday as arranged, or tomorrow night as a surprise treat. Say hi to Barbara. Bye.’

Barbara was coming down the stairs as I replaced the receiver. She smiled slightly. ‘Do I take it from your face that the news is good?’

‘Uhbb…well, not really. I dunno – it was just nice to talk to her. I remembered all the things I really like about her. I don’t think I’ll be going to the Middle East, but hey – three weeks isn’t so long.’

‘You’ve changed your tune.’

‘I feel better.’ I felt like hugging her, but I restrained myself. ‘Caro says hi. What are you doing now? You’ve heard all about the Blackman mansion; I think I’m ready to hear another one of your adventures.’

‘Er…all right.’ She walked towards the sitting room. ‘The next one in sequence was our visit to the Aztecs. That was fascinating for me, of course – it was one of my specialities – but it was also very painful. That was my first lesson in the difficulties of interfering with history…’

Caro was proven right about the group. In the end, they couldn’t turn their back on Rob. Dennis and Dave were particularly apologetic to her, but she walked out of the rehearsal after half an hour and rang me from a call box. I’d only just got in from helping Barbara move the rest of her things over from the flat, so I had to bath and change quickly. Caro got a taxi over and we spent the evening curled up on my bed with a blanket over us. To my surprise she looked as though she’d been crying, but she dismissed it as anger rather than sorrow.

After we had lain quiet for an hour or so, I summoned all my courage and said: ‘I’m not coming abroad with you. I can’t. Don’t ask me to explain it.’

‘It’s okay,’ she murmured, turning her head and kissing me on the chin. ‘I shouldn’t have tried so hard to pressure you into it. Just because I love the idea…still, it’ll be a long three weeks.’

‘I figure the only way I’m going to get through it is to start writing something.’

She lifted herself on one elbow and looked at me. ‘You’ve got an idea?’

‘Well…no. but I’ve got, what? – nearly a month before you go. I’ll have something worked out by then.’

Her index finger pressed down the end of my nose. ‘Something worthwhile. No bloody Hobbits, no matter what Daddy says.’

‘I think I can guarantee a Hobbit-free project.’ I took hold of her finger and pulled it between my teeth.

‘Where will I be sleeping tonight?’ she enquired, waggling her finger in a mock attempt to free it.

I took out the finger. I waited a moment to increase her feeling of suspense. ‘All Mrs Muller said was "You are a grown up now". I guess that means it’s up to me.’

‘So…what did you decide?’

‘Well, my hot water bottle’s sprung a leak, so how else am I going to keep warm..?’

Women are the most wonderfully aggravating creatures. Or is it that they’re aggravatingly wonderful? Or is it both?

At about midnight Caro was seized with a sudden craving for hot chocolate, and an equally sudden inability to move from beneath the covers. So I pulled on an assortment of clothes, eager to dispel once and for all my reputation as someone who never made drinks. The sight of Caro with her disarrayed hair over her bright eyes made me regret leaving the bed at all, but I steeled myself and crept downstairs.

The kitchen light was on. I entered to find Barbara sitting at the kitchen table in her dressing gown, nursing a cup of what looked like Ovaltine and staring into space. At my appearance her head jerked around.

‘Sorry…I didn’t mean to startle you.’

‘It’s all right.’ She looked in my wake, presumably to see if I was accompanied. ‘I wouldn’t have expected you to leave the bed tonight.’

I shrugged. ‘I think I’m being tested. A midnight cup of hot chocolate has been demanded.’ I went into the fridge and retrieved the milk. I was struck by a sudden thought and I turned to look at Barbara. ‘Sorry, but I just had the most ludicrous notion. It is…all right, isn’t it – Caro and me, here? I mean, you’re not—’

She smiled. ‘To be perfectly honest, seeing you two aglow has left me feeling a bit old and frumpy. But that’s all right. It isn’t the reason I’m sitting down here now.’

I got out a pan and poured in the milk. ‘Can I ask what is the reason?’ I lit the ring.

‘Ian rang this evening. We’re going to meet on Friday – tomorrow,’ she corrected herself.

I turned in surprise. ‘Ohhh…great.’

‘Yes.’ She smiled again, but there was sadness there.

I opened the cupboard and got out the chocolate. ‘You…don’t seem too happy about it.’

‘Oh, I am. It’s just…I don’t know what to say to him. He’s been so patient, and what have I got to show for all these months?’

‘If he loves you it won’t matter.’

‘Love?’ She shook her head. ‘I don’t know if that’s what it is. We belong together, that’s all. I’m sure of that now, if nothing else.’

‘And it couldn’t have been otherwise, anyway. Isn’t that what Ramana Maharshi would say?’ before she could respond to my gentle gibe I went on: ‘I’ve been meaning to ask you, about his name. It’s almost the same as Maharishi. Is there a connection?’

‘It’s a different way of writing the same thing – sometimes Sanskrit words are condensed slightly, or they can be transliterated differently. It means "Great Sage".’

I spooned out the chocolate. I wondered if Caro might appreciate some biscuits, and began hunting in the cupboard.

‘Would you…would you come with me tomorrow?’

I came out of the cupboard quickly, almost catching my head on the door. She was looking up at me. ‘I’d like you to meet Ian.’

‘Um…any other time, yes, but I did promise Caro we’d go down Oxford Street.’

There was a flash of unmistakable hurt in her eyes before she looked down. ‘Oh, of course. You did tell me.’

‘When are you meeting Ian? I could—’

‘No, no. No, it’s probably better this way. He’d be sure to wonder what you were doing there – and perhaps there are things we couldn’t say in front of someone else.’ She put a hand to her forehead. ‘I don’t really know what made me ask.’

‘You’re a bit scared, maybe?’

Her smile was almost of gratitude. ‘I think that’s it. Stupid, isn’t it?’

I took a step towards her. Her loneliness was almost palpable. I wanted to take her in my arms. I stepped closer.

‘Watch your milk.’

I spun and whipped the pan away from the heat. The milk receded just as it seemed about to swell over the rim. ‘Thanks.’

For some reason I found it difficult to look at her. I made the chocolate, rinsed out the pan, and picked up both mugs, preparing to go. She had not moved. Her drink looked cold.

‘I should have offered you some. I’m sorry.’

She shook her head. ‘I should go to bed – I don’t want to look too worn out in the morning. I mustn’t give him anything else to worry about.’

I made to move past her. Suddenly she looked up. ‘Oh…I remembered. It came back to me.’

‘Sorry…what..?’

‘I told you, long ago, that I asked the Doctor about God. I tried to hard for so long to recall what we said to each other, and I couldn’t. But then I dreamt it. Perhaps it was writing about Bhagavan that did it, I don’t know…it came back to me so clearly…’ She stood up. ‘I wrote it out – earlier this evening. I’ll show it to you.’

‘Um…’

She froze. ‘Yes – what am I thinking? Sorry…you’re not on your own tonight, are you? Well, let me give you the account…read it when you have time.’ She indicated that I should precede her out of the kitchen, then switched off the light. She followed me up the stairs. ‘Wait just a second.’ She went into her room and emerged carrying a couple of sheets of paper. ‘Perhaps Caro might be interested, too.’

‘Perhaps.’ I looked at her in the half-light. I was suddenly afraid that I had made her feel very isolated. Was she reaching out now in the only way she felt she safely could? I opened my mouth. ‘Pop it in here and I’ll take it in to her. And you’ll have to help me with the door.’

She allowed me to clamp the pages between my teeth and opened the door to my bedroom. ‘Goodnight,’ she whispered as I stepped inside.

Caro’s head emerged from beneath the covers as I pushed the door shut with my foot. ‘You took your time.’ She caught sight of the paper and lifted her head. ‘What’s that?’

I leaned over her, waggling my head to indicate that she should extract the paper. ‘A conversation with an alien about God,’ I said as soon as my mouth was free. ‘Barbara couldn’t sleep – she gave me this just now.’

‘What, she thinks we can’t find anything to do up here?’ Caro sat up, pulling the covers over her raised knees and accepting the chocolate I passed to her. I took the papers from her and leaned over to toss them on the desk. ‘Well, let’s have a look then.’

I looked at her. ‘What, now?’

‘Well, there’s a limit to what I can do to you while I’m drinking this.’ She slurped her chocolate. ‘C’mon – hand it over. We’ll read it together.’

We sat side by side; she allowed me a little of the covers.

There was no title this time, and the handwriting was a little less tidy, as if she had scribbled it down in haste.

The console room of the TARDIS was only dimly illuminated; although there was no night in the timeless vortex through which the ship travelled, we followed the rhythms of our bodies and when we slept, the ship seemed to sleep with us.

For a moment I thought I was alone. Then I saw the Doctor’s still figure hunched on one of the portable stools, leaning over the console.

I stood in the doorway, wondering if I should disturb him. His back was turned and I couldn’t tell if he was dozing or merely deep in thought. I had come to the console room in the hope of finding him, but now I was unsure exactly what I wanted to say.

Then his head twitched slightly, his hair catching the faint gleam from one of the console indicators. I scuffed my shoe on the floor to let him know I was there and began to walk towards him. He turned at once, half-rising from the stool. ‘Eh? Who’s there? Susan, is th…’ He stood straight upright, his head turning away suddenly.

I could guess what was going through his mind. Susan had only recently left us, and it would be some time before he got used to her absence. ‘It’s me, Doctor. Barbara.’

He stepped up to the console. ‘Well, of course it is. What do you think I…’ He let the words trail off

And bent his head to the console, apparently concentrating intently on one of the readouts. I hesitated, considering retreat.

‘Can’t sleep, hmn?’ said the Doctor, breaking our awkward silence. ‘Do you want something from the medical cabinet?’

‘No. No, thank you.’ I stepped closer to him. He raised his eyes to mine, blinking hard. His hand fished for the handkerchief he carried in his top pocket, but after a brief tug at the material he let his hand fall. ‘Well?’

I frowned. ‘I’m sorry..?’

‘You came in here with something on your mind. What is it, then? Spit it out child, spit it out.’

‘Um…’ My mind was blank for a moment. ‘I don’t really know quite…how to put this…’

‘As simply as possible. You can always qualify it later, if you feel the need.’

‘Yes…’ Still I held back. I looked down at the console, conscious of his keen gaze. I couldn’t meet his eyes. ‘Doctor, do you…do you believe in God? In a God?’

‘Do you?’

I looked at him, meaning to chide him for evasiveness, but he wagged a finger at me. ‘I can hardly answer a question like that until I know the position from which it is asked – now can I?’

‘I…suppose not.’

‘Well?’

‘I think…no. I was brought up to believe but now…now I don’t think I can.’ I faced him for a moment before turning away. ‘Even…even before all this,’ I gestured vaguely around me, ‘I had doubts. But now, after all the cruelty, the killing I’ve seen…I can’t believe a benevolent creator would allow such things.’

‘Does a god have to be benevolent?’

‘There’s a different name for one who isn’t.’

‘Mmn.’ He put his head slightly on one side. ‘it’s interesting, isn’t it, that on your world the belief in a real devil faded much more rapidly than belief in God. Perhaps…perhaps the majority of people do not see the universe in quite such dark tones as you do.’

‘The majority of people haven’t seen what I’ve seen.’

‘Indeed no!’ He stepped up to my side, his finger jabbing at me in the air again. ‘The splendour and variety of the worlds you have seen are known only to a privileged few. Even among my people, your experiences would be accounted remarkable.’

‘Are you saying I should be grateful to have been terrorised by the Daleks? Or the Voord? Or to have witnessed the barbarism of the Aztecs’ blood sacrifices?’

‘Why not? Alongside the things you mention we have encountered the nobility of the Thals, the gentleness of the Sensorites, the wisdom of Autloc, the courage of Arbitan…need I continue?’

‘All right.’ I leaned on the console, closing my eyes. ‘I know what you’re saying. Everywhere, there’s a spirited resistance to evil, a struggle to make life better – but in the end, what does any of it achieve? Arbitan is dead, many of the Thals died…everyone dies.’

The Doctor’s hand came to rest on my sleeve. I looked at him. ‘So,’ he challenged me, putting his head back, ‘death is the problem, is it? You feel that eternal life might resolve some of your doubts?’

‘No.’ I shook my head. ‘No, of course not. I’ve thought about that. I can’t conceive of anything worse than going on forever. But…but…’ I was seeking desperately for words to express the gnawing inside me. ‘What is it all for? We live for seventy, eighty years – for what? Just to die?’

He was silent for a moment. Then he turned away. ‘And if there were a God, as your people have conceived Him, how do you think He would answer such a question?’

I stared at his back, not knowing what to say. ‘I…’

‘After all, what does God exist for? How does an eternal being see eternity?’ He turned back to me. ‘How can we hope to imagine the mind of such an entity? Purpose? Meaning? How would you define those words in order to make them comprehensible to a creature that might span infinity?’

‘And perhaps…perhaps words like suffering and misery might also have little meaning?’ I suggested a trifle sourly.

‘Perhaps. You see, you must ask yourself how these questions would sound to the being you intend to put them to – and how the answers might sound to you.’

‘I see what you mean. There might be no common frames of reference.’

‘Exactly! For example, for example…what questions do you imagine an ant would ask you? The level of intelligence, not to mention the scale, is so different – consider trying to explain something as simple as a pair of scissors. It is doubtful the ant would even see you as another living creature – if an ant could grasp the concept of living.’ His hand rested on my sleeve again. ‘If there is a guiding intelligence behind the universe, you and I are in no position to interrogate it.’

‘So we should just accept? Just—’

‘Some things, certainly.’ He smiled slightly. ‘Like the fact that it is very late, and we are both too tired to think clearly.’

I didn’t respond at once. There were still so many things I wanted to ask. He saw my hesitation and turned me slightly so I was facing him. ‘I have no answers for you, my dear. As I have tried to point out, there may be no answers that have any meaning for you and me. You witness suffering and cruelty and you wish to make sense of what you see. That may not be possible. Not in this lifetime. But,’ he raised his finger again, ‘there are things we can do, each of us, every day. Better to concentrate on those. Don’t waste your time looking for answers you can never hope to find.’

‘I can’t just live blindly from day to day, Doctor. It isn’t enough.’

‘ "Blindly"? Who said anything about not looking where you’re going?’ He patted my arm. ‘It is good to know your destination – even if it is only in the short term. But don’t let that prevent you from enjoying the journey.’

There the narrative came to an end. But at the bottom she had added:

This happened only shortly before our visit to India. As you can see, despite the Doctor’s advice I carried on asking questions! But I thought you might like to know the Doctor’s views on this most important of questions.

I checked that Caro had finished reading – in fact I think she had been waiting for me – leaned over and let the account drift down to the floor.

‘Interesting,’ she murmured. ‘I wonder who he was, really – where he came from?’

‘I think the point of that piece of writing was the issues being explored.’

‘Like the old man said, why look for answers you can’t find?’

I drained the last of my chocolate. ‘Do you believe there’s anything – anything other than what we can see?’

‘I don’t know that I care that much.’

I nodded. ‘I used to feel like that, but then someone – maybe it was Mrs Muller – said to me that it is the fundamental question, because what you think the world is determines everything you do. Even not caring about the answer is a kind of choice, based on what you think is important.’

‘Mmn.’ She passed her empty mug to me. ‘Well, this isn’t really the time to go into things that heavy. Oxford Street awaits, and I’ll need some sleep if I’m going to do it justice.’

She lowered herself onto the pillow, but I sat where I was, looking down at her. ‘I wonder if that isn’t one of the most basic mistakes we make – thinking there’s always a better time to go into these things. What if that better time never comes?’

She stretched her arms above her head. ‘That better time will arrive almost immediately if you get down here.’

Who was going to resist an invitation like that? With no noticeable reluctance I turned my back on the eternal questions for at least another hour.