‘Yes. Would it really get him going if I borrowed some of your Janet Reger?’ Chloe was laughing so much that she almost spilled her tea. She looked down at it, remembered herself, and the laugh faded into a groan.

Pansy’s smile died too.

‘Chloe,’ she said gently. ‘You’re pregnant, aren’t you?’

Chloe nodded. ‘Yes. I’m pregnant. God, how wretched I feel.’

Pansy looked down, crimping the bedcover between her fingers.

‘Will you tell Stephen?’ she asked.

‘Stephen?’ Chloe was bitter. ‘Pansy, this will make you laugh. It isn’t Stephen. It’s Oliver.’

There was a brief silence.

‘How do you know?’

‘Does it matter? As it happens, I have a cap. None of the other things works for me. After the last-night party I went home to bed with Oliver. I was drunk, and very miserable.’ Pansy’s face was tense as she listened. ‘I didn’t even think about it. I don’t think I cared what happened. And now …’ she counted off on her fingers and held them up. ‘Four weeks later. See?’

‘So what will you do?’

Chloe turned violently away. ‘I’ve no idea.’

‘I know how you feel.’ Pansy was very gentle. ‘Because it happened to me. I was very young, and I felt so ill that I couldn’t do anything. Sick with myself, as well as just sick.’ Her face twisted in a little, wry smile. ‘In the end, Masefield fixed it. Of course.’

She took Chloe’s hands in hers and squeezed them. ‘Whichever course you choose, you know, it isn’t exactly easy. Chloe … there’s no reason why you should like me enough to let me help you through, but I could if you would let me.’ As their eyes met, the slow flames of liking began to kindle in them again. ‘Masefield took me to a place in Harley Street. It was very, very good.’

Chloe shuddered. ‘Aren’t there ordinary places, that everyone goes to? All those ads on the tube?’

‘I don’t know how easy that is,’ Pansy answered. Then, carefully, ‘Is it the money?’

‘No. It isn’t the money. Just that I haven’t thought, that’s all.’

Chloe was restless now. She put down her empty mug and paced across to the window. In front of her was Christ Church, ribbed in golden stone. ‘I’ve got to tell Oliver, somehow,’ she said bleakly. ‘It does belong to him too, doesn’t it?’

Pansy looked worried, but she said nothing.

Chloe picked up her hairbrush and began to work rhythmically at her hair. ‘Well, it’s my problem. Thanks for the first aid. Same time, same place tomorrow?’

With a rush of warmth, Pansy went across and hugged her. ‘Tea and sympathy always available,’ she told her cheerfully. ‘Think about Masefield’s place. I’ll come and hold your hand, if you need someone. And Chloe …’

‘Mmm?’