She couldn’t make out what on earth he was signalling her to do. He looked as though he was on that ancient TV programme Give Us a Clue. She was tempted to sign back: ‘Book and Film?’

Tonight everything seemed so funny.

She really had the giggles, in the same uncontrollable way she had had at school, sometimes in church or roll call.

Zoe was also now pulling a face at her, nudging her shoes.

To Theresa both Zoe and Benjamin looked like cartoon characters. She couldn’t believe that everyone else wasn’t laughing at them, and at Phoebe Taylor with all her double entendres.

Benjamin moved rapidly to the man in the corner and took his payment.

The man walked slowly from the restaurant.

As he passed her table, Odile smiled and wished him a very good night.

Phoebe leaned forward and squinted down at her plate of fruit. She thrust in a spoon and held it out in Theresa’s direction. ‘Kumquat?’

Theresa exploded with laughter.

‘Cockatoo! I love birds.’

‘Oh, so you are gay? I was wondering.’ Phoo peered at Theresa as though inspecting a sweater and looking for moth holes. ‘Sally talked about her “partner” Theresa, but I didn’t realise . . . I always picture her falling for some great big muscly chap. But I suppose “needs must when the devil drives”. She was always a bit of a goer, that Sally. We all knew her as the Birmingham Rep bike.’

Benjamin was at Theresa’s shoulder, trying to edge her to her feet.

‘What are you doing, Benjamin? Can’t you see I’m enjoying myself?’

‘Theresa!’ He was whispering, tugging at her dress.

‘Sally’s playing my part, you know, in some film opposite my husband Edgar. They offered it to me first. But I turned it down, of course. Not meaty enough for me. Less the filet-mignon role than a lump of old corned beef. But, bless! Someone has to take these tired little cough-and-spit parts. And as an actress Sally Doyle always was bloody hopeless.’

‘I heard she was rather good,’ said Zoe.

‘Nonsense.’ Phoebe slammed her hand down on the table. ‘Sally had unwarranted and undeserved success.’

Theresa now didn’t know what everyone was going on about.

She sat back, smiling at the room.

She felt serenely happy.

‘Theresa? Are you feeling quite all right?’ Zoe was scrutinising her face. ‘You’re looking very pale.’

‘I’m just tired. And relieved after all the recent upheaval.’ She sighed with contentment. It was odd – even after having eaten, she still felt starving. When she got home she thought she might rustle up a croque-monsieur.

‘Croque-monsieur . . .’ she said aloud, with a raucous guffaw.