“Mademoiselle,” he said, “c’est bonne—no, blast—pardon — bien amiable de vous, I mean de votre part. Would you really? I can’t think of anything I’d like better.”

“Alors, c’est entendu,” said Miss Emily.

Patrick and Jenny sat in his car down by the waterfront. Miss Emily’s luggage and Jenny’s and Patrick’s suitcases were roped into the open boot. Miss Emily had settled to spend a few days at the Manor Park Hotel and had invited them both to be her guests. Patrick felt he should stay with his mother, but she had urged him to go.

“It made me feel terribly inadequate,” he said. “As if somehow I must have failed her. And yet, you know, I thought we got on awfully well together, always. I’m fond of my mama.”

“Of course you are. And she adores you. I expect it’s just that she wants to be by herself until — well, until the first ghastly shock’s over.”

“By herself? With him there?”

“He’s not behaving badly, Patrick. Is he?”

“No. Oddly enough, no.” He looked thoughtfully at Jenny. “I knew about Bob Mayne,” he said. “Of course I did. I’ve never been able to make out why I didn’t like it. Not for conventional reasons. If you say Oedipus complex I shall be furious.”

“I won’t say it, then.”

“The thing is, I suppose one doesn’t like one’s mama being a femme fatale. And she is, a bit, you know. I’m so sorry for her,” he said violently, “that it makes me angry. Why should that be? I really don’t understand it at all.”

“Do you know, I think it’s impossible for us to take the idea of older people being in love. It’s all wrong, I expect, and I daresay it’s the arrogance of youth, or something.”

“You may be right…Jenny, I love you with all my heart. Could we get married, do you think?”

“I don’t see anything against it,” said Jenny.

After a longish interval, Jenny said: “Miss Emily’s taking her time, isn’t she? Shall we walk up to the cottage and say good-bye to that remarkable man?”

“Well — if you like.”

“Come on.”

They strolled along the seafront, holding hands. A boy was sitting on the edge of the terrace, idly throwing pebbles into the channel.

It was Wally.

As they came up he turned and, when he saw them, held out his hands.

“All gone,” he said.

The End