‘What do you want from me, then?’ she asked flatly. They stood at the foot of the staircase. Tom’s hand was resting on the newel-post, very close to her own, but neither of them moved. They looked into each other’s eyes, weighing up.

Then Tom said, ‘I need your help. I think Oliver will listen to you. He was … talking about you, last night.’

There was a long silence. Looking away from Tom, Helen could see the corner of Oliver’s door, shut fast. If there was anything she could do for him, of course she would do it. And in spite of her irritation with him, she was flattered that Tom had thought of asking her for help.

‘Please, Helen,’ Tom said, very quietly.

‘I’m coming,’ she answered. They went up the curve of stairs to Oliver’s door in silence.

Whatever chaos of empty bottles and overturned furniture Helen might have been expecting, she was surprised to see that everything looked as usual. Oliver’s long, elegant room with its view of the classic proportions of the Quad was tidy, quiet and sunlit. Oliver himself was sitting in an armchair, his clean white shirt accentuating his healthy tan. There was a half-empty bottle of white wine at his elbow, and a glass in his hand. He was unshaven, and his eyes glittered, but otherwise he looked as he always did. Then Helen saw the fan-shape of his key ring, with the little silver propelling pencil, thrown down on a low table beside him.

Slowly, Oliver moved his head to look at them.

‘I said no, Hart. I don’t want to act in your play. I want to sit here on my own and get quietly drunk. Is that unreasonable?’

Helen realised that he was talking with exaggerated care. He was drunk already, she saw, and her heart sank.

‘Yes, under the circumstances,’ Tom said crisply. He glanced at his watch. ‘Three o’clock. I’ll be back at six-thirty to take you to the theatre, and I want you sober. You said you’d like to see Helen. Here she is. Now get a grip on yourself.’

Tom picked up the bottle of wine and went to the door. His face softened as he looked back at Helen.

‘Can you cope?’ he asked.

She nodded, but she was very afraid that she couldn’t.

‘Helen, thank you. I knew that you at least wouldn’t let me down.’

The door closed behind him and she looked at it until she was forced to accept that he was gone.