“And Pat, if you must know the details. They were both in nightgowns. Of course they could have separate bedrooms, but—” The thought of what they might do flattened her brain and made words fail. He’d been right. She’d known it as Pat walked in, as they shared the paper, as Pat coughed into her breakfast and Joan failed to pour coffee. Something in the ease of them – it had frightened her. Sexual intercourse with a man was one thing, but with a woman – she was glad words failed her. She only wished the images failed her too.

But who cared? It was their sordid business. She wasn’t interested. She tore off a corner of sandwich, as if giving it to a child, but left it on her plate. “I should like to come out to Hertfordshire, to see the children as soon as possible.”

“Damn it, Enid.” He turned his cigarette lighter over and over in his hand. “You walked out. We were all at a loss. Joan was marvellous. God knows what we’d have done without her.”

“So I keep hearing. Do you expect me to buy her a present?”

“I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Then you buy her a present. I don’t see what she has to do with any of it.”

“She’s become very attached.”

“We shall have to discuss whether she can come and see them.”

“You don’t understand.” He shook his head. His hair fell over his forehead like it used to do, and through the better glow of his skin she saw lines beneath his eyes. “You’re not having them, Enid.”

“I don’t want them.” She stopped, halted by her own admission. “I’m happy for you to carry on; if they’re cared for, then I really see no need to step in. I only think it would be good for them to have their mother nearby – for me to be near, you understand – and I’d like to say hello, see them – well, really as soon as I can—” She trailed off.

Douglas, divided from her by a thousand-mile drop that was shunting and pushing and cracking them further apart, shook his head again. “We didn’t think you were coming back.”

“We?”

“Joan and I.” He put down his whisky.

“And? What? Did you tell them I was dead? I’m only asking for a visit, Douglas, really.” She dropped her hands to her lap as if this were a simple row, a confusion over luncheon dates or plans for the summer, but she didn’t feel relaxed. Her lips were dry. Her jaw hurt. “We can arrange the details, how to do it, I could take them for tea every week, perhaps see them at school – Ian and Finetta are at school also, are they? Or have you employed a governess?”

“Ian is four,” said Douglas.