Tristan smiles—but it’s tinged with the merest, merest hint of longing, or sadness, or something. ‘I have occasional, wonderful days when something unexpected happens, and I feel as though I’m helping. I couldn’t love the kids more, they’re so funny and fierce. But they can be little shits. It’s tough.’

He looks into the middle distance and sighs, twisting a tea towel around his forearm like a tourniquet. ‘Every Monday morning, it seems that some initiative has been brought in that means I will spend less time in the classroom doing the work, and more time filling in forms. But—it’s my life. You have to really love it, and really want to do it, it’s all you have when you’re muddling through the really grim bits.’

You have to really love it, and really want to do it. Oh. I look at Tristan, and my face flushes. He’s seen my secret, he knows. I look away, and fiddle with the damp cuff of my dress. It’s not just about The Know. It’s writing. In the event of an apocalypse, I will be writing, scrawling thoughts with a stick in a muddy ditch if I have to.

Tristan untwirls his tea towel. ‘I’ve seen colleagues come and go, people who have given up on what they really wanted to do, and thought teaching would be safe, straightforward. It isn’t, at all. And you’re already doing plenty for young minds, without having to supervise anyone’s detention.’

We’re interrupted by Louise, pinkly naked under a white dressing gown. Her mascara is smudged, and her tell-tale hair tuft is sticking up, but I don’t think it’s an anxiety signal this time. ‘Um, is everyone still here? I thought you would have gone home! Perhaps, ah, would you all mind going home?’

Tristan looks at me and raises his eyebrows, and I try not to giggle. ‘Roger Roger. I’ll gather the chaps. Imogen, we’re just going to walk home, but can I drop you off anywhere? Find you a taxi? Chaps! Come on, get up, time to go!’ The three of us walk to the drawing room and find Hugo and Benners on the sofa. They are watching, improbably, a programme featuring a number of people in a field, with easels, and Sandi Toksvig sitting on a horse. ‘Good, you’ve got your coats on!’

‘Lovely to see you, Tristan,’ Louise says. ‘Thanks for, for…you know. Thanks! And Immo, I’ll see you Monday. Thank you so much for coming all this way!’ Louise kisses me on the cheek, and kisses Tristan on the chin, and blows kisses to Hugo and Benners before giggling and running up the stairs. Hugo and Benners mumble something about pubs as they heave themselves off the sofa, and shuffle down the hall. They do not wait for Tristan, who waits for me.