‘I’ve been invited to a dinner at Freddie’s.’

‘Lord Hamilton,’ she said automatically.

‘Can I go?’

‘When is it?’

‘Next week.’

‘I see.’

She stood up and started straightening things around the room, replacing books and closing drawers. ‘Who else will be there?’

I shrugged. ‘Their friends.’

‘I suppose we should be having dinner parties,’ she said vaguely. She picked up a teacup from the side table and examined it. ‘Did you know you had German measles when you were little? We thought you were going to die.’

I stared at her, confused.

‘I suppose you were too young to remember. The only thing you could take was weak tea. It still reminds me of that time.’

She started walking towards the dining room, cup in hand. Her silhouette made me think of Sylvie, and I was suddenly desperate that she wouldn’t let me go to the party. I knew that if I didn’t go, I would be even further from the others and it would be too late.

‘Can I go?’

‘I’m not sure, Theo.’

‘I have to, I have to go.’ I hadn’t realised my legs had carried me towards her, or my arm had pinned her against the wall, until I felt a trickle of cold on my hand, and saw the teacup had emptied the remains of its contents onto me.

I stepped back, but the slap I was expecting never came. My mother turned her face away, and I saw a flicker of recognition in her eyes before she did.

‘Why are you shouting?’ Maud was in the doorway, forehead creased in worry.

‘No one’s shouting,’ my mother said.

‘I heard it.’

‘You’re imagining things. Be a good girl and bring me my book, won’t you, darling?’

Maud lingered. ‘Where is it?’

‘I can’t remember – have a look in my bedroom first.’

Maud slipped out.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘It’s just a small dinner with friends.’

‘Much older friends.’ She sighed and looked over my head at something in the distance. A silence grew around us; I would almost have welcomed the slap instead.

‘So can I go?’ I asked eventually.

She nodded, almost imperceptibly.

‘Thank you.’

She kept her eyes fixed above me. ‘Be good, Theo.’

Chapter Eight

The evening of the party, Nicolas and Sylvie arrived to pick me up at quarter past six. I’d been ready for hours beforehand and Maud had had to brush Scotty’s hair off my jacket several times while I waited. I’d thought my suit was smart, but as soon as I reached their car I saw Nicolas’s was much more elegant.