Bitterness and alcohol hit the back of her tongue; she coughed into her hand and put the cup down. “I don’t know how you two can stand it.”

“You should have seen us last night,” said Joan. She leaned over and stubbed out her cigarette.

“I heard you,” said Enid, shielding her eyes. She’d sat up trying to read but Jarndyce and Jarndyce were just getting started, and the book, heavy on her chest, had felt too big to hold. She’d let it fall and listened to the distant laughter drifting up from the garden instead.

“We were all set for pontoon and then Douglas buggered off to the George and your mother wouldn’t play, so we got out the backgammon instead,” said Pat.

“I thought I heard you outside.”

“Douglas wanted to play midnight croquet.”

“After pontoon?”

Pat sighed as if to say: what does it matter? Joan let her hand drift from Fagus’ head to rest on his shoulders, the other arm thrown over her face. “Whatever it was, it was lethal. Pat had me up till three, arguing over Persian rules.”

Fagus ducked out from under her arm and sat on the warm stones, picking moss from between the cracks. Enid could see the top of his head, the halo of sunshine on blond hair, the tiny hunch of his shoulders. Far above them another wail escaped from the open windows.

From beneath her sleeve, Joan said, “Fetch some daisies, I’ll make a chain.” Fagus got to his feet and trotted off to the lawn. Enid tried not to watch. She was beginning to get a headache. She could feel it creeping steadily around her temples. She took another sip of Pat’s coffee.

Fagus returned with a handful of grass and three daisies. Joan sat up and put them on her lap. He leaned both hands on her thigh and skipped from foot to foot. Slowly, as Enid watched, a dark stain spread across the crotch of his navy trousers. “Oh God.” She put the coffee down. “Fagus, quickly.” She held out her hand. He grabbed the stain and hopped about, shaking his head. “You’re peeing, Fagus. You’ve peed.”

“Good Lord,” said Pat.

“Go, go,” said Joan. She held his hand and wheeled him around the end of her lounger towards Enid, then brushed the grass from her lap.

“My daisies,” said Fagus.

Joan gathered the three flowers and put them by her feet. “Pee first.”

“A little late, isn’t it?” said Pat, looking away.

“He forgets.” Enid hurried him into the house.