Seymour recognised an order, a dismissal. He left the table meekly and went out through the kitchen door and into the garden. It was an attractive one and someone had lavished much care and attention upon it, but it somehow didn’t look the sort of place you’d play in. And the cat turned out to be an aloof black sphinx who desired no company. He could tell by the disdainful way it dampened a paw and began to groom its face that he was meant to keep his distance. Besides, how could you play with a cat? he thought crossly. No one could tell cats what to do or how to behave. The sun-warmed rim of the patio was too hot for comfort, so he moved back into the wall shadow next to the windows, and knew at once he’d made an error. He could quite clearly hear Mrs Easterbrook and Angie talking; not talking, but having a passionate, bitter quarrel now that he’d been sent from the room. He stayed where he was against the wall, afraid that if he moved they’d hear and think he’d come to that place on purpose to eavesdrop. He tried not to listen, but the angry voices crackled against the windows like flames.

‘What can you expect after what you’ve put us through for the last five years? All the times you’ve promised…We’ve given you every chance in the world, Angela, all our help, and you just threw away every opportunity…’

‘For God’s sake, how many times are you going to bring that up?’

‘Look at you, dressed like a little tramp! Those clothes, you can’t even make the effort to look respectable when you come to visit. How do you think I feel, with Margaret Duke seeing you stroll in here dressed like that? Those abominable shoes, and your hair…Why on earth don’t you let it grow back to its natural colour? Oh, you had such beautiful hair! That job your father got you, the one before this dress shop fiasco, you made absolutely no effort…’

‘A fortnight was plenty long enough, thanks very much! Dad wouldn’t even listen when I tried to explain what happened. That horrible old woman told all her friends about me, I heard her. Making out she was so Christian, it just about made me puke! Every time she went out, even just up to the shops, she’d lock away all her brooches and stuff, how do you reckon that made me feel? Some job, a home help! I only took it on to please Dad in the first place, and I tried, I really tried. It wasn’t my fault…’