So they hadn’t had enough then, she and her subdued morose husband? They wanted to see him abject, not merely referring with open frankness to the dismissal as he had done, but explaining it, apologizing. Well, they should have his explanation. There was no escape. Carefully, he placed his knife and fork side by side on his empty plate. Precisely, but very politely, he refused his hostess’s offer of more. He took a deep breath as he often did at the beginning of a board meeting, as he had so very often done at those board meetings when Hugo Crouch pressed insistently for staff rises.

‘My dear Elizabeth,’ he began, ‘my dear Hugo, I know why you asked me here tonight and what you’ve been hinting at ever since I arrived. And because I want to enjoy your very delightful company without any more awkwardness, I’m going to do here and now what you very obviously want me to do – that is, explain just how it happened that I suggested Hugo would be happier away from Frasers.’

Elizabeth said, ‘Now, Duncan, listen . . .’

‘You can say your piece in a moment, Elizabeth. Perhaps you’ll be surprised when I say I am entirely to blame for what happened. Yes, I admit it, the fault was mine.’ He lifted one hand to silence Hugo. ‘No, Hugo, let me finish. As I said, the fault was mine. I made an error of judgement. Oh, yes, I did. I should have been a better judge of men. I should have been able to see when I promoted you that you weren’t up to the job. I blame myself for not understanding – well, your limitations.’

They were silent. They didn’t look at him or at each other.

‘We men in responsible positions,’ he said, ‘are to blame when the men we appoint can’t rise to the heights we envisage for them. We lack vision, that’s all. I take the whole burden of it on my shoulders. So shall we forgive and forget?’

He had seldom seen people look so embarrassed, so shamefaced. It just went to show that they were no match for him. His statement had been the last thing they had expected and it was unanswerable. He handed her his plate with its little graveyard of chicken bones among the potato skins, and as she took it he saw a look of baulked fury cross her face.

‘Well, Elizabeth,’ he said, unable to resist, ‘am I forgiven?’

‘It’s too late now. It’s past,’ she said in a very cold stony voice. ‘It’s too late for any of this.’

‘I’m sorry if I haven’t given you the explanation you wanted, my dear. I’ve simply told you the truth.’

She didn’t say any more. Hugo didn’t say anything. And suddenly Duncan felt most uncomfortable. Their condemnatory faces, the way they both seemed to shrink away from him – it was almost too much. His heart began to pound and he had to tell himself that a racing heart meant nothing, that it was pain and not palpitations he must fear. He reached for one of his little white pills ostentatiously, hoping they would notice what they had done to him.