Usually, at the sound of feet on the stairs, Anna removed herself from the part of the big room where she would be forced into an unnecessary exchange of greetings with the young man from Wales. This time she looked sharply around and only just prevented an exclamation of relief as the footsteps turned out to be Tommy’s. His smile acknowledged her, her room, the pencil in her hand, and her spread notebooks, as a scene he had expected to see. But having smiled, his dark eyes focused inwards again, and his face set solemn. Anna had instinctively reached for the telephone, and checked herself, thinking she should make an excuse to go upstairs and telephone from there. But Tommy said: ‘I suppose you are thinking you must telephone my mother?’ ‘Yes. She has just rung me.’ ‘Then go upstairs if you want, I don’t mind.’ This was kindly, to set her at ease. ‘No, I’ll ring from here.’ ‘I suppose she’s been snooping in my room and she’s upset because of all those madness books.’

At the word madness, Anna felt her face tighten in shock; saw Tommy notice it; then exclaimed, with energy: ‘Tommy, sit down. I’ve got to talk to you. But first I must ring Molly.’ Tommy showed no surprise at her sudden decisiveness.

He sat down, arranged himself neatly, legs together, arms before him on the chair-arms, and watched Anna as she telephoned. But Molly had already left. Anna sat on her bed, frowning with annoyance: she had become convinced that Tommy was enjoying frightening them all. Tommy remarked: ‘Anna, your bed’s just like a coffin.’ Anna saw herself, small, pale, neat, wearing black trousers and a black shirt, squatting cross-legged on the narrow black-draped bed. ‘Then it’s like a coffin,’ she said; but she got off the bed and sat opposite him in a chair. His eyes were now moving, slow and careful, from object to object around the room, giving Anna exactly the same allowance of attention as chair, books, fireplace, a picture.

‘I hear you went to see your father?’

‘Yes.’

‘What did he want you for?’

‘You were going to say, If you don’t mind my asking —’ he said.

Then he giggled. The giggle was new — harsh, uncontrolled, and malicious. At the sound Anna felt rise in her a wave of panic. She even felt a desire to giggle herself. She calmed herself, thinking: He hasn’t been here five minutes, but his hysteria’s infecting me already. Be careful.

She said, smiling: ‘I was going to say it, but I stopped myself.’