Elizabeth took it from her and unfastened the catch. ‘I thought these would come in handy too.’ Inside she had put three Arden lipsticks, missing the irony of this completely. She could at least have chosen Helena Rubenstein.

The two of them tittered away together, trying the rich, waxy shades on the backs of their hands.

‘That one’s more your colour, Mummy,’ Olivia said, handing her one of them. ‘It’s a bit pale for me. Why don’t you have it?’

‘Oh no, darling!’ Elizabeth pronounced the ‘darling’ each time in an exaggerated, caressing way. ‘I bought it for you. It’ll look lovely. And listen, I thought after the time you’ve had’ – this her only reference during the visit to the state Livy was in – ‘you could do with a nice smart outfit for the spring. We’ll go out again and I’ll treat you, shall I?’

‘That would be lovely,’ Olivia said, though perhaps in a flatter voice than Elizabeth had hoped.

Elizabeth kissed her again. ‘I’m so glad.’ She glanced at me. ‘I don’t know if Katie would like to come? I suppose now is not the time for you to be laying out money on new clothes for yourself, is it? It’ll be all matinée coats and napkins for a time . . . all such a bother at that stage.’ She gave a tinkly laugh, smoothing down her crisp fawn skirt. ‘Believe me, you’ll be glad to have your body back to yourself.’

She took her leave finally, giving me, as she did so, a look of strange coyness as if it were I, not Olivia, who was off-centre and needed humouring. Then she brought out the smile with which she had learned to embellish so many occasions of her married life.

‘She does look so much better, doesn’t she?’ she hissed at me. ‘Marvellous, really. And Katie – ’ The face was carefully arranged now in lines of solemn gratitude. ‘It’s you we have to thank.’

I watched her walk down the path to the wet pavement, so elegant and fragile. That woman, I thought, skates round the edges of her life and never dares to reach into the middle of it.

*

When Olivia stayed out all night for the first time, I sat up in bed through the small hours, taut with worry. It was a week before my baby was due to be born.

‘This is absurd!’ Douglas raged beside me, after both of us had tried and failed to sleep. It was two o’clock in the morning. ‘She shouldn’t be depriving you of your rest like this, thoughtless little minx.’

‘She’s not thoughtless,’ I said. ‘She’s off balance. She doesn’t know whether she’s coming or going – like grass in the wind. I really don’t think she can help it.’

‘Why d’you always defend her?’ Douglas flung back the bedclothes and went for the umpteenth time to the window. He peered each way up and down the street, then gave a loud, impatient sigh. ‘No sign. Look, shouldn’t we get the police or something?’