Number nine stood at the end of the next street. A woman called Ruth opened the door with a tea towel in her hand. When Anna explained, Ruth sat down on the bottom stair. She had known George was ill, but he had told her he would ring when he felt stronger.
Thursday was the day he visited her husband, Michael. They listened to records in the sitting room while Ruth did the shopping. George had a key because Michael sometimes took a long time to reach the door.
“He never mentioned it,” Anna said. Ruth looked surprised. “He talked about you all the time.” She brought out a photograph of a birthday cake. George stood beside Michael, holding the knife as though it were an important tool he had just learned to use. Anna had bought him that jumper. She could not remember him ever wearing it at home.
