They talked about the shared year that had gone, and about the separate routes ahead of them.

Pansy made them laugh by guying the idea of herself as a movie star. She could mimic Scot Scotney’s carefully preserved Glasgow accent to perfection too.

‘Ye’ve got a long way to go, but ye won’t du it wi’out harrrd werrk, an’ ye won’t du it wi’out me.’

Tom put his hand over hers. ‘Pansy darling, you’re a born comedienne as well. Will you come back to New York one day and act for me again?’

‘Oh sure, if the deal’s right.’ Her eyes narrowed, mock-tough.

‘Not just for old times’ sake?’

‘Certainly not. What do you take me for, an amateur?’

Helen laughed with them, but she said little. She simply let herself slip into the intimacy of the evening, and the champagne’s warm glow, without thinking of tomorrow. There were still so many questions; the prospect of her mother’s bewilderment at her broken engagement and immediate re-engagement to somebody else … in spite of herself, Helen’s face lit with a smile at the thought. And there was the question of her own future too. Helen had no intention of living as an appendage of Tom’s, in New York or anywhere else. But not tonight. After the extraordinary tumult of today, and with these faces around the glowing table with her, there was no need to ask anything at all.

‘And you, Chloe?’ Tom was asking. The old asperity that had lingered on between them, even through the success of their working partnership, had all evaporated now. Chloe lifted her glass and her green eyes met each of theirs in turn.

‘Oh, a long, hard summer of writing body copy for something or other. And then, in October …’ she smiled, conspiratorial, ‘… I shall just come back to Oxford. Do you know, I can’t think of anything else I want to do, or anywhere else I want to be? I think I’ve just discovered job satisfaction. I shall take over your discarded role, Helen, when Tom has carried you off into the stratosphere somewhere.’

As she spoke, they turned to each other, and their fingertips met on the white cloth. Their oneness was acknowledged, and there was no need for anyone to say any more.

Chloe was laughing. ‘I shall fling myself into my books, I shall get my First in due course, and I shall stay on here, growing increasingly spinsterish and set in my eccentric ways, turning out intensely clever articles for the learned journals. Look out for me in Notes and Queries, won’t you?’

They looked back at Chloe’s tawny, exotic glamour and the idea was so preposterous that they dissolved into laughter once more.