‘Why not?’ she had asked calmly, staring back into his eyes.

‘I don’t know anybody else, like I know you now,’ he had said. ‘Funny, isn’t it, how alone we all are?’

Another time he had murmured, almost to himself, ‘Darcy’s luckier than he knows. Or perhaps he does know, after all.’

She hadn’t answered that.

In the evenings Tom took over. He saw Oliver through the long demands of the performance with a careful mixture of asperity and subtle cajolement. Helen sat at her desk and tried to make up the lost hours of work.

And so, at length, they reached the last night.

It was traditional for the director of the OUDS major to throw a party after the last performance for everyone connected with the production, and Tom had taken up the idea with enthusiasm. He had been insistent that Darcy and Helen should be there.

‘If it hadn’t been for you, there wouldn’t have been a show after the first performance. Or at least, there’d have been me stumbling through Oliver’s part with the book in one hand. Disaster.’ He had flashed them one of his rare, brilliant smiles. ‘I’m a wonderful director and a lousy actor. So be there, both of you. Please.’

A little to Helen’s surprise, Darcy had agreed. And at his suggestion, they were to see the play again too.

When he appeared at Follies House to collect her, his hair was sleeked down, and he was wearing a velvet jacket which wouldn’t have looked out of place on Oliver, with a raffish bow tie, which suited him.

‘Darcy,’ she laughed at him, ‘don’t confuse me. This is a theatrical party, remember.’

He looked so pleased that she kissed him, and stood for a moment contentedly with his arms around her.

‘Oh, one has to go to these affairs from time to time to make sure one isn’t missing anything,’ he told her cheerfully. ‘And I want to be there, for Oliver. You never know. Besides, you’ll be there too. You look very pretty tonight, Helen. You do make me wish we weren’t going anywhere at all.’

Helen had been awarded a tiny travel bursary. She was supposed to use the money to broaden her studies with travel abroad, but she had half guiltily spent some of it on new clothes. Tonight’s amethyst silky jacket over a camisole top was part of her extravagance.

‘D’you like it?’ She spun round for him to admire her. ‘I love buying things.’

‘Frivolous girl,’ Darcy said humorously.

They walked to the theatre hand in hand.

Tonight’s audience was very different from the first. In place of the tense expectancy there was an air of celebration. Almost everyone there was a friend, connected with the company, ready to enjoy the play and then to toast its success at the party.