‘I wonder if I might wash my hands?’ Duncan asked firmly. ‘If you could just tell me where the bathroom is?’

‘Of course.’ She looked disappointed, as well she might. ‘It’s the door facing you at the top of the stairs.’

Duncan made his way to the bathroom. He mustn’t think he was going to get off the hook as easily as that. They would be bound to start on him again during the meal. Very likely they thought a dinner table a good place to hold an inquest. Still, he’d be ready for them, he’d done rather well up to now.

They were both waiting for him at the foot of the stairs to lead him into the dining room, and again he saw the woman give her husband one of those looks that are the equivalent of prompting nudges. Hugo was probably getting cold feet. In these cases, of course, it was always the women who were more aggressive. Duncan gave a swift glance at the table and the plate of hors d’oeuvres, sardines and anchovies and artichoke hearts, most unsuitable for the time of year.

‘I’m afraid you’ve been to a great deal of trouble, Elizabeth,’ he said graciously.

She gave him a dazzling smile. He had forgotten that smile of hers, how it lit her whole face, her eyes as flashing blue as a kingfisher’s plumage. ‘“The labour we delight in,”’ she said, ‘“physics pain.”’

‘Ah, Macbeth.’ Good, an excellent topic to get them through the first course. ‘Do you know, the only time we three ever went to the theatre together was to see Macbeth?’

‘I remember,’ she said. ‘Bread, Duncan?’

‘Thank you. I saw a splendid performance of Macbeth by that Polish company last week. Perhaps you’ve seen it?’

‘We haven’t been to the theatre at all this winter,’ said Hugo.

She must have kicked him under the table to prompt that one. Duncan took no notice. He told them in detail about the Polish Macbeth, although such was his mounting tenseness that he couldn’t remember the names of half the characters or, for that matter, the names of the actors.

‘I wish Keith could have seen it,’ she said. ‘It’s his set play for his exam.’

She was going to force him to ask after her sons and be told they’d had to take them away from that absurdly expensive boarding school. Well, he wouldn’t. Rude it might be, but he wouldn’t ask.

‘I don’t think you ever met our children, Duncan?’

‘No, I didn’t.’

‘They’ll be home on half-term next week. I’m so delighted that their half-term happens to coincide with mine.’

‘Yours?’ he said suspiciously.

‘Elizabeth has gone back to teaching.’

‘Really?’ said Duncan. ‘No, I won’t have any more, thank you. That was delicious. Let me give you a hand. If I could carry something . . .?’

‘Please don’t trouble. I can manage.’ She looked rather offended. ‘If you two will excuse me I’ll see to our main course.’