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Angus looked at Domenica quizzically.

‘They can’t really fly very easily,’ she explained. ‘Singapore is terribly tiny in territory terms. When the air force takes off, it has to take a sharp right turn or it ends up flying over Malaysian airspace, which they’re not allowed to do. So it somewhat hampers their style.’

Angus smiled. ‘I see.’

‘So they keep the air force elsewhere,’ went on Domenica.

Angus raised an eyebrow. ‘One would hope that they don’t forget where they put it,’ he said. ‘It would be a terrible shame if one put one’s air force somewhere and then forgot where it was. I’m always doing that with my keys . . . Easily done.’

Domenica laughed again. ‘I think they have a book in which they write it all down,’ she said. ‘Actually, they keep their air force in Australia.’

‘Well, at least Australia’s got the room,’ said Angus.

Domenica agreed. ‘Yes, but it’s a bit strange, isn’t it? Rather like the Bolivians and their navy.’

‘No sea?’

‘Not any more. And the tragedy is that they really want a navy, the Bolivians, poor dears. They’ve got a lake, of course, and they keep a few patrol boats on that and on the rivers, but what they want is a pukka navy . . . like the one we used to have before . . . Anyway, Navy Day in Bolivia is the big day, and everybody gives money for the cause. And they have numerous admirals, just like we have now. No ships, alas, but bags of admirals. And then there was the Mongolian navy, of course. They only had one boat and seven sailors, only one of whom could swim!’

‘Interesting,’ Angus began. ‘But . . .’

‘But the point is this: the Uruguayans, to their credit, let the Bolivians keep a real ship in Montevideo. It’s rather like the Australians allowing Singapore to keep its air force in Darwin or wherever it is. So kind.’

‘There’s not enough kindness in the world,’ said Angus.

With that the subject changed, and now Angus remembered it as he went over in his mind possible themes for what he hoped would be his masterpiece. Kindness, he thought – there’s a subject with which a great painting might properly engage! But how might one portray kindness? There were those Peaceable Kingdom paintings, of course, in which all animal creation stood quietly together– the wolf with the lamb, the lion with the zebra, and so on. But that was not kindness; that was harmony, which was a different thing. Angus wanted to paint something which spoke to that distinct human quality of kindness that, when experienced, was so moving, so reassuring, like balm on a wound, like a gentle hand, helping, tender. That was what he wanted to paint, because he knew that that was what we all wanted to see.

91. Angus Receives a Visitor

Angus Lordie was still thinking of kindness, and of the great painting he would execute in order to portray that theme, when the doorbell sounded. Cyril, half asleep on a rug on the other side of the room, lifted his head and looked at his master. He knew he should bark, but what was the point? Whoever it was on the other side of the door would not be deterred by his barking, and if he continued, and barked more loudly, God (as Cyril thought of Angus) would simply get annoyed with him. So he glanced towards the door, growled briefly, and then lowered his head again.

Angus looked at his watch. It was just before ten in the morning, and he was still seated at the kitchen table, the detritus of his breakfast on the plate before him: a few crumbs of toast, a small piece of bacon rind, a pot of marmalade. He was dressed, of course, but had not yet shaved, and he felt unprepared for company.

He rose to his feet, crossed the hall and opened the front door.

‘Mr Lordie?’

There was something familiar about the face of the woman who stood on his doorstep, but he could not place her. There were new neighbours several doors down; was she one of them? No. The Cumberland Bar? No, she was the wrong type. Perhaps she was collecting for the Lifeboats; they had plenty of women like that who raised money for the Lifeboats