But it would be a life without Elizabeth.

The thought of it is curiously bleak. It’s not that he loves her, exactly – didn’t they agree that wasn’t what their marriage would be about? – but he would miss her.

Yes, he would definitely miss her.

Philip snaps himself out of it. There is no question of missing her. He is going to marry Elizabeth. Anything else is unthinkable. Why has Elizabeth even suggested it?

Unless she has changed her mind?

She wouldn’t do that, he reassures himself instantly. Elizabeth keeps her promises. She does what she says she is going to do, unwaveringly.

Unlike him, Philip realises with a wince of shame. He has wavered plenty. He has been losing his nerve and flailing out in frustration. He isn’t used to the relentless speculation and observation. He’s had a lifetime of being able to come and go as he pleases and all that has changed since the engagement.

His life is going to change completely.

Which is, he knows, an explanation but not an excuse. The realisation that he has disappointed Elizabeth clings to Philip’s shoulders like a monkey all week, impossible to shake off. It leaves him touchy and jittery, unable to settle. He sends Elizabeth a stiff note saying that as far as he is concerned, he wants the wedding to go ahead as planned, but he knows he should go and see her himself. If only he didn’t feel so confused and restless about everything. He’ll only make it worse if he goes to see her in this state, he decides.

Meanwhile, planning for the wedding is continuing remorselessly, inexorably, unaware of the fact that he and Elizabeth have stumbled. Sometimes Philip feels as if he is trapped in a nightmare, frozen like a rabbit in headlights. The knowledge that he has to do something leaves him frantic but still he seems unable to move. All he can do is go through the motions while his mind spins and spins without ever getting purchase.

When his chums at the Thursday Club originally suggested a secret stag do well away from any cameras, Philip thought it was a great idea. A more decorous event including Uncle Dickie has been arranged for the night before the wedding but the Thursday Club bash is supposed to be the real, relaxed event, a chance to let his hair down for the last time.

The occasion turns out to be as robust and ribald as he expected, and probably exactly what he thought he wanted at one time, but Philip is not enjoying himself. There is much drinking and guffawing and he is the butt of every lewd joke, which he expected too. But he feels disconnected from it all as he sits straight and white-faced as the reality of the situation he is facing crashes over him.

All the members of the Thursday Club are there. Philip hears the braying laughter, sees the drink slopping out of glasses as if from behind an invisible wall. Alcohol seems to shimmer in the air, distorting the room and the people in it. Debauched, dishevelled, they have all taken on the air of grotesques with red, glistening faces, their shirts straining over ample bellies. Philip’s eyes fix on the stained tablecloth as he struggles to keep the disgust from his expression, and at that moment the image of Elizabeth rises before him: cool, clear, composed. He clutches at the memory of her clear eyes with a kind of desperation, and the need to be with her is suddenly so acute that it takes his breath away as revelation washes through him.