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follows Carl’s directions which take them to the far side of the city. They park by the kerb in front of an old three-storey house which has been divided into flats. Futh, out of the car, standing on the pavement, still feels the lurch of the ferry.
    The front door has an intercom with three buttons, one of which Carl presses. There is a crackle and then a woman’s voice speaking what Futh assumes to be Dutch.
    ‘Mummy,’ says Carl, speaking in English for Futh’s benefit, ‘it’s Carl, and I have a guest.’ When the door makes a clicking sound, Carl pushes it open and Futh follows him inside.
    They climb the stairs up to the third-floor flat, to a door which has been opened and left ajar for them. They enter and Carl closes the door behind them. Hanging up his coat and turning to take Futh’s, Carl calls, ‘Mummy?’ They walk through to the living room, Futh taking in the high ceilings, bare floorboards, wooden slatted blinds, sparse furniture, uncluttered surfaces, glass and leather and the smell of polish. Again Carl shouts, ‘Mummy!’ and the acoustics in the harshly furnished room are like those in an empty house or in a bathroom.
    In the far corner, a swinging door opens and a woman comes into the room. The smells of coffee and baking follow her. She greets Carl with little air kisses while Futh stands waiting to be introduced. When Carl turns to him and says, ‘Mummy, this is our guest, my friend,’ Futh steps forward and kisses Carl’s mother on one cheek and then the other, smelling soap and flowers beneath the coffee and the baking.
    ‘I’m so pleased to meet you,’ he says.
    ‘You are very welcome,’ says Carl’s mother, turning away. ‘Come and sit down.’
    The three of them walk over to an uncomfortable-looking sofa and Futh sits down in the middle. On a low table in front of the sofa stands a tray, from which Carl’s mother lifts a coffee pot. She fills three cups and passes the first one to Futh who takes it with a smile. She asks him about his journey and his holiday, and while he talks she listens and offers milk and sugar. Passing a plate of little pastries, she enquires about his wife, his children.
    ‘My wife and I have just separated,’ says Futh.
    Expressing sympathy, she puts the plate of pastries down in front of him.
    ‘And we didn’t have children.’ He shifts his buttocks on the thinly upholstered sofa.
    ‘Perhaps that’s just as well,’ says Carl’s mother.
    ‘I keep stick insects,’ he says. ‘I wanted a dog.’ Angela had said no to a dog. She did not want to end up being the one who had to walk it every day. So he got stick insects. He is rather fond of them but he supposes that they have no sense of him, that they do not remember him from one day to the next.
    Carl’s mother says to Carl, ‘You aren’t drinking your coffee. Has it gone cold?’
    Carl, who has been taciturn all morning, ever since the conversation in the car, looks down at the untouched cup of coffee in his hand. He puts it down on the little table. ‘If you’ll excuse me,’ he says, ‘there is something I have to do.’ He crosses the living room again, going back out into the hallway, his mother following him with her eyes.
    After a moment, she turns back to Futh. ‘More coffee?’ she says, turning away to pour it, asking what he does for a living.
    ‘I work in the manufacture of synthetic smells,’ says Futh.
    ‘Oh yes?’ She looks glazed.
    He elaborates. ‘We artificially replicate the chemical compounds which make apples smell like apples and so on, mimicking natural smells. Have you heard of scratch and sniff? In scratch and sniff technology, the chemicals are captured in microscopic spheres, like tiny bottles of perfume. When a scratch and sniff panel is used, a few of the bottles are broken, but there are millions of them – after twenty years all the bottles will not be broken, the fragrance will not be gone.’
    ‘Oh, I’m sure that’s very interesting,’ she