He helped me to my feet and up the rest of the stairs. From the doorway of the main room I could see that the flat was the home of a man who cared little for wealth but a great deal for comfort and beauty. There were no thick carpets or silk-upholstered chairs; rather, the comfort of a soft sofa and the beauty of book-lined walls. I had never seen such a room. Since I had left Haverth, I had lived in hotels. I had only seen decoration designed to impress rich people who had the same sort of furnishings at home. But Aidan’s sitting-room, simply furnished and softly lit, had no pretensions to impress anyone.

The floor was polished wood, over which had been laid a rug. Not the Persian kind with intricate patterns I had seen in so many hotels, but a plain rug, the colour of grass. In fact, the exact colour of the hills around Haverth in the first days of spring. At the windows, which were the old-fashioned sash kind, were cotton curtains, unswagged, untrimmed, unfringed, and the colour of the sky on the hottest summer day. Apart from the sofa, there were cushions on the floor and a wicker chair. The only wall not covered with bookcases was crowded with pictures: photographs of Aidan and other people, sketches, postcards, greeting cards, some framed, some not, some not even mounted but stuck to the corners of others with drawing pins. I gazed and gazed.

My legs were trembling. I was glad Aidan was still holding on to my arm. “Is this really where you live?” I asked.

“What an odd question!” He gave me a puzzled, but amused, look. “Do you think I merely pretend to live at 23 Raleigh Court, when my true home is far away in … I don’t know, Ruritania, perhaps?”

He was right. It was a foolish question. But I was foolish enough to be taken aback at the sight of a modest, pleasant room after months of lying in starched sheets gazing up at ornate ceilings. “I’m sorry,” I said, hoping he could hear that I was sincere. “It’s just very different from everywhere else I’ve been since … well, since I left home.”

I could not go on. My throat contracted, and I bowed my head, unwilling to allow Aidan to witness yet more tears. I swallowed repeatedly, trying to compose myself.

Aidan had the decency not to look at me. He settled me in the corner of the small sofa, bustling a little, asking if I were warm enough and could he get me some tea or something to eat?

“Please don’t take any trouble.” My voice was a whisper. “I am quite all right.”

“I’ve got some soup I can heat up,” he said, halfway to the door that led to the rest of the flat. “And I’ll do some bread and butter, shall I? And tea. I could do with a cup myself.”

He brought me a bowl of soup and put a plate of bread and butter and my teacup beside it on a low table, then sat in the wicker chair, balancing his own teacup on his knee, and regarded me carefully. “Now, are you going to tell me what’s brought you to my door?” After a pause, he added, “My real door, that is, not the one in Ruritania?”

I did not smile. “Thank you very much for this.” I took a mouthful of bread and butter. “I had no supper.” I took another mouthful. “What brought me to your door, as you say, was the piece of paper you wrote your address on, ages ago. It was in my make-up bag, all screwed up and dirty. But I could still read it.” I took a spoonful of the soup. It was too hot but unexpectedly delicious. “This is very good.”

“It’s only some vegetables and a bit of stock.”

I looked at him sharply, wondering if it was another joke. I had never heard of a bachelor, or indeed any man, making soup. He looked back at me with an expression of innocence. “Do you think I can afford a cook? I can make eggs and bacon, too. And lamb chops. I assume my cooking skill is the sole reason you turned up here, since I am accustomed to being roundly despised by Miss Clara Hope.”

I stirred the soup and blew on it, giving myself a little time, collecting the courage I needed to admit the truth. “I came here because I have nowhere else to go,” I told him. “Perhaps you remember that you once offered me help if I ever needed it? Well, I do.”