‘My wife will think I’m going to stay with my daughter.’

‘Will you?’

‘Klara lives in this crazy apartment with about six other people. I think she can find me a mattress on the floor.’

‘I have a guest room.’

‘No thanks.’

‘Why not?’

‘Doesn’t feel right. I’d be imposing …’

‘On whom? I live alone. The room is empty.’

‘I appreciate it. But I can look after myself.’

‘Lose the pride, Brendan. We all get into places where we need the assistance of others. There’s nothing wrong with that. I might also be able to help you with a car. My husband’s Volvo is sitting unused in the garage.’

‘Todor informed me he’d get my car fixed if I told him about you and your outfit.’

‘Outfit? As in some kind of flying abortion hit squad, targeting innocent women who really want to have a baby after getting raped? Or someone who knows she’ll be on the street with a child because she can’t afford a roof over their heads. Or who has simply decided that this is the wrong moment for them to take on the huge responsibility of bringing a baby into this dark and dangerous world of ours. But the fanatics who spout Christian principles are the ones who show no compassion or decency, and who also think that sex should have a punitive side to it. And now I am having one of my diatribes. I hate when I get this way because I sound crabby. But look how your life is being turned upside down by these people.’

‘One of whom happens to be my wife.’

‘But she’s very much caught up in the idea: this is all life or death. And why do you think she feels that way?’

‘Because nothing about this life pleases her.’

‘Not even her daughter?’

‘Especially not Klara.’

‘That’s terrible.’

‘I know that Klara has always wanted a connection with her momma. But she has just never been able to provide it. Kind of the reverse of you and your daughter.’

‘I know I’m probably at fault as well.’

‘Why?’

‘For being so damn doctrinaire about so much.’

‘But as a woman surely she approves of your …’

‘What? My “militant feminism”, as she calls it – along with her father’s espoused socialism – clearly drove her to that usual form of post-adolescent rebellion that we’ve all been through. My God, you should see the fellow she’s probably marrying. Mr Hedge Fund – who is about twenty-five years her senior and who told me that the secret of his success was deciding that, at the age of thirty-three, only having a personal worth of $50 million was just not good enough. Now he’s worth about $300 million – as Alison told me recently.’

‘There are guys like that out there.’