“I would have thought your family would have had enough of secret engagements by now, wouldn’t you?”

“Then what is it?”

“They’re lesbians.” He sat back, as if satisfied.

“Lesbians? Who are? I don’t understand what you’re talking about.” This wasn’t what she was talking about at all.

“Sapphos. Pat and your sister. I think it’s rather marvellous.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I should say ridicule was the last thing on their minds.”

“But Pat and Joan are just—”

“Companions? Jolly good companionship, if that’s what it is. Up to their eyes in it, or should I say, breasts. And jolly good luck to them. I think it’s thrilling.”

“What rot.” Typical Douglas, finding debasement in everything.

“I’ll say it isn’t.”

“And I’ll say it is. Mother would never allow it.”

Douglas laughed again. “Your mother thinks sex is something a husband and wife do under the greatest duress.”

“Douglas.”

“What do you think Pat’s doing all caught up in Violet and Vita’s little tryst? You do know they’re lesbians too, don’t you?”

“Stop flinging that word at me.”

“Too sordid for you? Your sister and our delightful Pat have been flinging themselves at each other, and quite probably a few other females too, for quite some time. So fashionable. It’s been brightening my day for ages.”

“We’re talking about mother and Joan,” Enid snapped. “Mother, and Joan and Fagus.” She didn’t want to know. She didn’t want to know anything about any of it. She thought of Pat and Joan like shipwreck survivors, clinging to each other for want of a proper boat.

“Your mother and Joan and our son and all that money?” said Douglas.

“He’s still her heir. There are laws.”

“He was her heir and the only laws your mother abides by are her own. Joan’s not going to breed. She doesn’t have to, and for my money, she doesn’t want to.”

“You don’t have any money.”

“As you and your mother have made clear on any number of occasions.”

“You married it.”

“I married you.”

“I came with it. At least I did. Fagus did.”

“When I married you it was going to be Ivar’s.”

It was a trespass, always a trespass, to hear him say her brother’s name. He’d hardly known him. He had no right. There’d been the awful scenes in the library at Inveraray, when Ivar had been sent to meet Douglas off the train and put him back on it again the next day. The wedding. A few months in France before he was sent off. She’d been stupid enough to think Douglas would keep him safe. “Joan’s always wanted it. She’s always had her eye on it.”

“Are you saying she’s pleased?”