The school play that Christmas was Noel Coward’s Pri-vate Lives, directed by the sixth-formers under Jonty’s watchful, jaundiced eye. Two performances took place on Tuesday and Wednesday of the last week of term, and most of the teachers turned out for the closing party, some with their partners. Parvez had begged off; he normally turned up just to show a united front with Shona, but he really didn’t like plays, or theatre, and it clashed with a concert that he wanted to listen to on the radio. After some deeply diluted mulled wine, with so much orange juice added that it was verging on the pink rather than red, most of the teachers headed off to the Admiral’s Arms, led by a triumphant Jonty with his embarrassed, sober wife. Shona and Dermot were hemmed into a banquette by the merrymakers, and sat squashed together.

‘I knew you’d come out for that drink with me eventually,’ Dermot said, clinking his pint glass with Shona’s white wine.

‘I didn’t know you drank Guinness,’ Shona said a little stupidly, feeling a bit tired and drunk after the long day.

‘I’m Irish, of course I do. I also play the fiddle and dance with my arms glued to my sides,’ he answered seriously.

‘Do you?’ Shona asked, before seeing the twitch in Dermot’s mouth. ‘Oh, you are taking the mickey. This time, I mean.’

‘Am I? I admit I don’t play the fiddle, but you’ve not seen me dance,’ laughed Dermot. Shona noticed what white, straight teeth he had. Very un-English teeth. But of course, he wasn’t English. Dermot cleared his throat. ‘I meant to ask you something, Shona, something about Racine.’

‘Sure, what is it?’ Shona said amicably. She knew she was on very safe ground with Racine.

‘What were you going to say, that day, when you said true hate doesn’t follow true love, but something else does? What were you going to say takes the place of true love, once it’s gone?’

‘I’m not sure that’s a question about Racine,’ Shona said quietly.

’Maybe it’s just a question, then,’ Dermot answered.

‘Fairytale of New York’ struck up on the pub jukebox. Pam, looking very pretty and flushed, with a lot of make-up and a slinky black top, staggered over to join them. ‘Where’s your handsome husband tonight?’ she asked Shona.

’Oh, just busy,’ Shona said lightly.

‘Shame. Tell him that I missed him,’ Pam hiccupped, adding to Dermot, ‘Have you met Shona’s handsome hubby?’

Dermot shook his head. ‘I’ve not had the pleasure, but I take it that he’s quite a catch.’

‘Ding and double-dong,’ confirmed Pam, ‘and he’s sooo funny. And he can really dance, too. Tell him, Shona.’