“Not at all,” said Jack. “In fact they’re separated – not that they would call it that. He sleeps in the surgery across the street, but comes over home for his dinner.”

“That’s extraordinarily civilized.”

When they got to Jack’s village she was too nervous to head for Ferris’ straight away so they went into a pub for hot whiskeys. Soaked and dishevelled they sat in the spirit grocers before colourful biscuit tins, bread in cellophane, bottles of Bull’s Blood wine, mail bags, gardening spades and bags of fertilizer seed. Girls, under tweed coats, in dresses of light mustard or yellow and shorn at the calf, passed through to the dark lounge behind. Each called out to Jack.

“I didn’t know,” said Catherine, “that you were so popular.”

“It’s a small place.”

“I took you to be a shy person.”

“Oh, but I am,” he laughed.

A small man, poor-featured, manic-eyed, of weak gait, welcomed Jack home with a thump on the shoulder.

“Well, you’re the lad,” he said, giving Catherine a long unabashed survey.

“This is Catherine,” Jack said, introducing her to the woman behind the bar.

“I’m delighted to meet you,” she said, dropping Catherine’s hand. “Did I meet you before?”

“Not that I can think of.”

“Ah, I must be mistaking you for someone else,” she said slyly.

“We have salmon here in a bag for the doctor,” Jack said for no good reason.

“You were always a good thoughtful fellow,” said the bar-woman, and then she added with a lascivious smile, “and he was a good court too.”

“I see,” said Catherine icily.

“You’ll give her the wrong impression, Mary.”

“He doesn’t like to hear it, you know. But you see he was always a man for the women.”

“Is that so?”

“That’s right,” the little man chipped in, “and I haven’t the brains to go mad.”

“Oh, fair play,” laughed Jack.

“And I was foolish enough,” whispered Catherine, “to think that you were an innocent.”

“You made a bad mistake there.”

“How many of these women have you been with?”

“A few.”

“It’s sordid. And do they always talk like this?”

“Yes.”

“Well I don’t find it amusing. It’s more sordid than amusing.”