My hand stung; I think I’d hurt myself more than him. I paid for my drinks, with a trembling note. The landlord hadn’t noticed anything. Avoiding everybody’s eye, I made my way back to Hilda.

She gazed at me. ‘That was Dennis,’ she breathed. ‘Why did you do that?’ Then she giggled. ‘Defending my honour?’

‘Yes,’ I said.

In less than a week I had hit two men. I’d never raised my hand to anyone in my life before; what was coming over me, in my middle-age? If I punched anyone, it should be the man who had stolen my wife.

In less than a week I had lost my job. I had joined the CND. I’d had a wet dream. I’d nearly died. I’d almost found my son.

‘I’d put a postcard in the newsagent’s,’ she said. ‘Second girl wanted, non-smoker, to share flat. So she turned up, with these children in tow. She hadn’t said anything about them. Gorgeous little girl, Victoria, she was into everything—that age. I think they’re lovely then, don’t you? Bit of a handful, but still. And Edward. He was lovely too, freckles and everything. He said “I’m nearly nine, how old are you?” What a character. He snuggled up to me, that first night. I’d put him to bed, in the room you’re in. He’d got these two carrier bags, with his toys in them. He’d lost his pyjama bottoms. Honestly, those poor kids. She wasn’t fit. He said his Superman robot was broken but his Daddy was going to fix it.’

‘Daddy?’

‘Somebody called Barry. I never saw him, Lesley had just walked out on him, apparently. Anyway, little Edward said his Daddy was away for a few days but he could fix anything, he was the best Daddy in the world, he’d made him a go-kart but that was in Spalding, they couldn’t fit it in the car, and he’d made him a bow and arrow, a special one out of willow wood because it bends, his Daddy knew all about that. And how he’d worked on the oil rigs for a thousand pounds a day, and how he’d been a spy and gone to America and met all the actors in Star Wars—’

‘He hadn’t!’

‘No, but Edward didn’t know. It was so sad, Dezzy, because he kept saying his Daddy would come home at the weekend but he didn’t, and then he said he’d come home for Christmas and bring him a present but I knew he wouldn’t because he was in Saudi-Arabia. He did send him a t-shirt but it was too small.’

She paused for a moment, her needles clicking. She was sitting in the armchair, knitting, and I was lying on the settee. There was a wheeze, and her cuckoo-clock opened. It was midnight.