Conversation welled up around the table and the wine passed round and round. Helen ate almost nothing but she let her glass be filled again. It seemed to take the edge off the unhappiness of having to sit in her place and pretend to feel at home. She listened uncomprehendingly to the talk and jokes passing to and fro around her and tried not to look across at Oliver. If she had, she might have seen him watching Pansy and Stephen down the length of the table. He was drinking faster than anyone else and his blue eyes took on an ominous dull glow.

Tom raised one eyebrow at him across the table, but Oliver scowled back belligerently.

By the time Beatrice brought in the coffee, her elder children and their friends had all wandered off elsewhere, bored with adult company. Only Sebastian stayed and he had attached himself to Pansy. He was sitting on her knee, playing with her earrings and the points of her hair. Over his fair head, Pansy smiled at Stephen and went on talking. She was telling him funny stories about her father and his entourage of wives. Stephen looked amused and faintly impressed.

‘Coffee, Oliver?’ Beatrice asked gently.

He accepted a cup but left it untouched, reaching out instead for the brandy bottle that had appeared on the table. He looked all set to empty it himself, and his scowl deepened.

After a burst of laughter from Pansy and Stephen, he leaned forward.

‘Can’t we all share the joke? Or are you going to monopolise each other for the rest of the day?’

‘Shall we, Pansy? What do you think?’ Stephen’s voice was very smooth.

Pansy jumped up and went to Oliver, wrapping her arms around him from behind. ‘Nolly, don’t be such a bear. Are you getting pissed?’

‘If I am, it’s out of boredom.’

Tom put down his cup with a rattle of irritation. Beatrice stood up and began collecting empty plates. The silence was broken by Sebastian who ran after Pansy and pulled at her arm.

‘Pansy, Pansy, come and play in my shop. Now.’

Pansy smiled around the table. ‘He’s so lovely I can’t resist. Leave my share of the clearing up and I’ll do it later.’

The atmosphere at the table had changed perceptibly. Oliver, leaning back in his chair, swirled the brandy in his glass defiantly.

‘You leave it too, Bee,’ Stephen said. ‘You’ve done enough. Who’ll give me a hand – Chloe?’

She pushed back her chair at once and went to take the tray from Beatrice.

‘Of course. That was a wonderful lunch, Beatrice.’

‘I’m glad you enjoyed it.’

In a moment Tom, Helen and Oliver were alone in the dining room.

‘I can’t stand that self-satisfied Romeo,’ Oliver said irritably. ‘Who does he think he is?’