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says. She glances at her watch. ‘And what does your father do?’
    ‘He was a chemistry teacher,’ says Futh. ‘He’s retired now.’ He finishes his coffee and Carl’s mother smiles and reaches out to take the cup from his hands. ‘Thank you,’ he says, glancing at the coffee pot.
    She begins to stand, with Futh’s empty cup in her hands, saying, ‘Well, I’m sure you want to go on your way.’
    ‘I’m not in any hurry,’ says Futh. She hesitates, and then settles back down again. Futh shifts towards her and continues, his breath heavy with coffee. ‘Everything you smell contains a volatile chemical, which evaporates and activates the nasal sensory cells. When you can smell something it’s because it’s releasing molecules into the air, which you inhale.’
    ‘I have so much to do,’ she says, and Futh begins to explain the rota system he and Angela used for housework.
    Carl’s mother seems distracted. From time to time, she glances towards the door through which Carl left. Suddenly, she stands up, saying, ‘I know what he’s doing.’ She strides across the room and into the hallway. Futh hears her give a single knock on a door before entering. She closes the door behind her and Futh can hear her speaking angrily to Carl, although he can’t make out what is being said.
    When she returns she says to Futh, who is reaching out to take another pastry, ‘Perhaps you should be going after that.’ Futh, trying to choose between the remaining pastries, is only vaguely aware of Carl reentering the room. Carl’s mother, already moving away from Futh towards the kitchen, says, ‘Shall I pack you a lunch to take with you?’
    ‘That won’t be necessary,’ he says. ‘I’m due to have lunch in Hellhaus.’
    ‘You won’t be there for lunch,’ she says.
    Futh, who has lost track of the time and who in any case does not really know how long this leg of his journey will take, looks at his watch and sees how late in the morning it is. ‘Well,’ he says, smiling gratefully at his host, ‘if that’s the case then that would be very kind of you.’
    She goes into the kitchen and Carl follows her.
    Futh, left behind, perched on the edge of the terrible sofa, looks towards the kitchen door. When it swings open, he sees Carl quietly admonishing his mother. It swings to and then swings open again and he sees Carl’s mother turning, making her hushed reply. They speak not only in low voices but in Dutch, and Futh does not understand a word. The swinging slows and stops. Futh is reminded of the scenes he tried not to hear as a child, his parents whispering furiously on the other side of closed doors.
    Carl is the first to come out of the kitchen. ‘Please,’ he says, ‘you don’t have to go. My mother did not mean to make you feel unwelcome.’
    ‘Well,’ says Futh, eyeing the cooling coffee pot, ‘I probably should get going.’
    Carl’s mother comes into the room holding a greaseproof-paper parcel. ‘For your journey,’ she says to Futh, presenting him with the package. He takes it, expecting it to be warm in his hands but finding it cold.
    Carl follows him out into the hallway. ‘You should stay,’ he says. ‘I really want you to stay.’ Futh, putting on his coat, smiles and offers his hand. Carl takes it, holding it a little too long.
    Futh calls back into the living room, ‘Many thanks for your hospitality.’ He waits for a reply but none comes. He leaves the apartment and climbs back down the stairs to the front door which closes heavily behind him as he steps out into the street carrying the cool parcel in both hands.
     
    At noon, Futh finally makes his way out of Utrecht and gets back onto the motorway, driving in the direction of Hellhaus, which is the name of both the town to which he is heading and the hotel in which he will be staying, where he will spend both this first night and his last night.
    As he drives south with his window down, his bare forearm, resting on the frame,