‘Doesn’t it have a common name?’

‘Of course it does. The Venus Fly Trap. Muscipula means fly-eater, dear.’

‘Whatever do you mean?’

‘It eats flies. I’ve been trying to grow one for years. I was absolutely thrilled when I succeeded.’

‘Yes, but what d’you mean, it eats flies? It’s not an animal.’

‘It is in a way, dear. The trouble is there aren’t many flies here. I feed it on little bits of meat. You’ve gone rather pale, Daphne. Have you got a headache? We’ll have our sherry now and then I’ll see if I can catch a fly and you can see it eat it up.’

‘I’d really much rather not, Merle,’ said Daphne, backing away from the plant. ‘I don’t want to hurt your feelings but I don’t – well, I hate the idea of catching free live things and feeding them to – to that.’

‘Free live things? We’re talking about flies.’ Merle large and perfumed, grabbed Daphne’s arm and pulled her away. Her dress was of red chiffon with trailing sleeves and her fingernails matched it. ‘The trouble with you,’ said Merle, ‘is that you’re a mass of nerves and you’re much worse now than you were when we were girls. I thank God every day of my life I don’t know what it is to be neurotic. Here you are, your sherry. I’ve put it in a big glass to buck you up. I’m going to make it my business to look after you, Daphne. You don’t know anybody else in London, do you?

‘Hardly anybody,’ said Daphne, sitting down where she couldn’t see the Venus Fly Trap. ‘My boys are in the States and my daughter’s in Scotland.’

‘Well, you must come up here every day. No, you won’t be intruding. When I first knew you were definitely coming I said to myself, I’m going to see to it Daphne isn’t lonely. But don’t imagine you’ll get on with the other tenants in this block. Those of them who aren’t standoffish snobs are – well, not the sort of people you’d want to know. But we won’t talk about them. We’ll talk about us. Unless, of course, you feel your past has been too painful to talk about?’

‘I wouldn’t quite say . . .’

‘No, you wouldn’t care to rake up unpleasant memories. I’ll just put a drop more sherry in your glass and then I’ll tell you all about my last venture, my agency.’

Daphne rested her head against a cushion, brushed away an ivy frond, and prepared to listen.

From a piece of fillet steak Merle was scraping slivers of meat. She was all in diaphanous gold today, an amber chain around her neck, the finery half-covered by a frilly apron.

‘I used to do that for my babies when they first went on solids,’ said Daphne.

‘Babies, babies. You’re always on about your babies. You’ve been up here every day for three weeks now and I don’t think you’ve once missed an opportunity to talk about your babies and your men. Oh, I’m sorry, dear, I don’t mean to upset you, but one really does get so weary of women like you talking about that side of life as if one had actually missed something.’