If we were married, we could be talking about Tess and her young men now, Edie thought as she began to undress, and felt an entirely unexpected shiver of pleasure at the thought. You’re nothing but a ridiculous old woman, Edie Williams, she told herself, climbing into bed. You and Albert are just good friends, which is the way it should be. I’ve had a happy marriage and so has Albert. You know what they say: never go back, because that way disappointment lies. We’ve had young love with all its trials and tribulations, all its highs and lows; now we’ve got friendship, respect, and . . . yes, I suppose a sort of love. We must be content with that – no, no, no, we are content with that. And now, Edie Williams, will you stop all this nonsense and go to sleep, because that’s what beds are for.

Edie turned over and buried her face in the pillow. I will not worry about Tess, or Snowy, or Jonty, let alone this Pamela girl whom neither Tess nor I have even met, she resolved, and presently fell asleep, only to dream about a ravishing blonde who looked remarkably like Marilyn Thomas and came triumphantly into the pet shop to inform Edie that the rules were different in Malaya and she intended to marry both Jonty and Snowy, which she thought would be a nice Christmas present from herself to herself. Edie tried to smack her, saying that English rules were different, but in the way of such dreams this one faded away and Edie found herself on the beach, walking hand in hand with her beloved Fred, only when she turned to look at him and smile it was not Fred but Albert, and she was surprised and a little shocked to realise that she was not disappointed when Albert squeezed her hand . . .

Tess too was tired, but the letter had made her think, and think hard. She might tell herself that her affection for Jonty was merely that of an old friend, but she was beginning to wonder whether it was that simple. She had felt a pang of fierce jealousy at the thought of seeing Jonty and Pamela together; surely one would not feel like that over an old friend? But if she did love Jonty, it wasn’t the sort of love the stars shared in the cinema, and anyway how could she possibly admit to making such a terrible mistake? There was poor Snowy for a start, enduring jungle warfare and all the miseries which went with it, whilst believing her to be his own true love and simply longing to come home and claim her. Then there was Jonty himself. He had accepted without argument that there was nothing between them except friendship and, having accepted it, had turned to Pamela Davies. How can I ruin her life – and possibly Jonty’s – by admitting that I’ve changed my mind and want to steal her boyfriend? Oh, dear heaven, I can’t possibly do any such thing. But I will go to the party and see for myself if Jonty really is in love with this girl, and she with him. What I’ll do if Jonty really does love me and is just making do with Pamela remains to be seen, but I won’t make the worst mistake of my life without trying to do something about it.