I nodded down at my mussels, which had conveniently arrived. Popped in a chip. "Yeah, well, that's all changing," I muttered. “This holiday has seen to that. I'm embarrassed, actually, Shona. Don't know what the heck I've been doing with my life."

"Well, that's progress." She looked surprised, and my words surprised me, too. I determined to believe them, though. “Tommy told me to work on you but I'll be delighted to report I didn't have to. Here's to a new dawn."

She lifted her glass and met mine, mid-air. I sipped thoughtfully.

"Why did Tommy ask you to work on me?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. Because like the rest of us he can see you're wasting your life, I imagine. Thinks the early Christian martyr look doesn't suit you, perhaps?"

“Tommy." I snorted. "What does he know? I hadn't seen him for years."

"He sees Peter. And me, of course, and I'm not protecting you, so don't get any big ideas." She hesitated. "And if you must know, I think he feels a bit responsible. Thinks he should have tried harder to stop Hugo marrying you. Because of Christina, I guess. He feels guilty, OK? Is that so weird?"

I remembered Tommy and Hugo in the ante-room of Marylebone Registry Office. The fierce determination on Tommy's face as I interrupted them. That had nothing to do with Christina, he just didn't like me.

“So if I whip off the sackcloth and ashes and start putting it about as much as he does, he'll feel better, is that it?" I said lightly.

“Don't be glib, he's not like that." I'd been extracting a mussel but I glanced up at her tone. "And anyway, he's been a star as far as I'm concerned. He got my niece an internship at Christie's in New York which was super kind — his sister knows someone there. And he's offered us his apartment if we ever want to stay. If I can ever get Paddy away from Charles the First's personal possessions, that is."

"Right." I felt a peculiar stab of jealousy though. And betrayal. Ridiculous. But it was as if a whole subplot and storyline had been going on without me, behind my back. The Tommy and Shona show. But the truth was I'd been too self-absorbed to notice, or even care. And what I did, painting, only encouraged that inner life. Celia and I knew that. We could go for weeks — months, even — without talking to a soul, and because we had each other, and I had Peter and Mum, it always seemed OK. It wasn't. I'd neglected friendships. Well, this one, anyway. What else, I wondered?

The waiter removed our bowls of empty shells and gave us water bowls for our fingers. I swirled mine about thoughtfully.

“Shona, have you had any stories hit your desk recently about the water down here?"