‘It’s cold . . .’ I said.

‘Come in with me!’ said the Princess.

‘You don’t mind, do you, Billie?’ Billie didn’t. I lay very still beside the Princess.

‘Character from Shakespeare’s Tempest . . .’ Gradually Lydia’s warmth reached me. Something softly ran down my back. Billie was smoking and looking at the ceiling. I put my hand over – she took it and stroked me gently. Her ring flashed dimly. We were lying together like young animals – comfortably together, happy to be together: me in the middle, sheltered. Billie started to snarl.

‘Why are you snarling?’ asked Lydia.

‘Just snarling,’ said Billie. Character from Shakespeare’s Tempest . . . Was it the word? The word tempest? When bees hear other bees buzzing angrily, they become angry themselves. Was it the word tempest? It started up in my shoulder-blades. I stretched very slightly, and the Princess looked at me. ‘What’s the matter?’ No one spoke. Billie clicked my fingernails. We had dropped the newspaper. It was completely quiet.

‘Give Billie a kiss!’ said the Princess half-aloud. My diaphragm lifted – is that the seat of the soul? I propped myself up and kissed Billie. First of all, she just let me, then it was as though she was drinking me. Long, long . . . Then I kissed the Princess. That was like coming home from foreign lands.

Tempest.

It began as a light breeze – we were ‘beside ourselves’, because each of us was part of the others. It was a game, childish curiosity, delight at another’s embrace . . . There were two of me, mirror images; three pairs of eyes saw. They flicked open the fan of womankind. And Billie was a different Billie. I was amazed.

Her features, her always slightly alien features, relaxed; her eyes were moist, tension disappeared and she reached out. Her pyjamas blossomed brightly. Nothing was planned, everything seemed natural – as though it was meant to be like that. And then we lost ourselves.

It was as though someone had been standing for a long time on the starting line with his bobsleigh, and suddenly the sleigh was released – it flew down towards the valley! We surrendered to the power which weighs man down and exalts him, to his lowest point and to his highest . . . My mind was empty. Pleasure heightened pleasure, then the dream became clearer, and I sank into them, and they into me – we fled from the world’s loneliness to each other. There was a grain of wickedness about it, a dash of irony, no romantic languishing, a lot of will, some experience and a great deal of innocence. We whispered; we spoke first about each other, then about what we were doing, then there were no more words. Not for a moment did the force that drove us to one another diminish. Not even for an instant did a crack appear. A strong sense of sweetness filled us, and now we were conscious, fully and completely conscious. I have forgotten a lot of things about this episode – but one is still with me today: that we loved each other most of all with our eyes.