It was true. But it wasn’t so much the truth of Andrew’s statement that struck me as its savage coldness, which told me that his marriage with Alison was doomed, was perhaps over. It had been secure while they lived in affluence, had a nice house and car, jobs, money in the bank, but not strong enough to withstand being cooped up together in this flat, prisoners, fearful, desperate. They were no support to each other. They each loved Jason, I could see that, but they loved him separately, as individuals. It wouldn’t be long before each was asking him to take sides, to back one of them against the other. I was watching them, thinking about all this, again doubting if we were doing the right thing, when Silver asked very politely if he might remind Andrew that he owed him £3,890. Perhaps he’d see to it now, before Jason went to bed, since it was apparently kept in his room.

“You’re not going to like this,” Andrew said, “but just the same, if you don’t mind, I’ll wait to pay you until I’ve seen Jason on his way.”

“In that case, I shall hold on to your tickets.”

“That’s your decision.”

In some strange way the discoveries of the past twenty-four hours had hardened Andrew against Silver. Instead of sympathy he felt resentment. It was almost as if Silver had been a party to Alison’s weight of distress, or perhaps Andrew simply saw him as the cause of it. Or it was a case of simple jealousy, the kind that endures even after love is gone.

“It would be better,” Silver said, “if we didn’t quarrel.”

“I’m not quarreling. I’m simply looking after my own.”

But who was his own? Certainly not Jason, who, if he was anyone’s, might be said to be the local authority’s. A painful thought. Not Alison, who was his wife but, I suspected, hadn’t been his lover for some time. Her eyes went to him when he uttered those words but his own refused to meet them.

“It’s Jason’s bedtime,” she said. “Say good night, Jason.”

He made no protest. He came up to us, kissed me, held out his hand to Silver, and in that gesture became a little old man, grave and courteous. We didn’t wait for Alison to come back but left, giving Andrew a curt goodbye. I expected him to slam the front door behind us. Instead he left us to see ourselves out.

Silver was angry, with a cold silent anger. Our shoes in our hands, we tiptoed past the Nylands’ door. He whispered to me that if it hadn’t been for Jason, if he hadn’t been convinced being with these imperfect parents was far better than with none at all, he’d have given up the whole enterprise.

“You hate her,” I said.