I was enjoying Jack’s story, or rather I was enjoying hearing him tell the story, but I also noticed Audrey’s stillness. She sat with her glass of wine on the table and her hands resting beside it, just listening and watching Jack.

‘Yeah. And since then, they totally ignore each other. The cub’s taller than Jack now, anyway. We leave his cage open all the time and he spends less and less time there. He’ll be making his own way soon.’

One more urban dog fox to go foraging through the dustbins at night, I thought.

‘That’s really sweet.’ Lola sighed. ‘I must tell Sam about it.’

‘Audrey sort of rescued her fur, as well, you know,’ Jack told her.

‘I was wondering about that.’ I saw that Lola, my barefaced girl, was actually blushing as she glanced at Audrey.

‘It was dead already when she got it, right? So she looks after it and takes it for outings now.’

Lola nodded her head, in all seriousness. She was drawn to Audrey too.

I studied the other woman’s face, noticing again the remnants of beauty in the bones and mouth. She sensed that I was looking at her and her eyes hooded over like one of her animals’ as they briefly met mine, and slid past me to the garden wall and the pattern of leaves, then away in an arc to rest on Jack again.

‘Are we ready for lunch?’ I asked. To my annoyance I sounded like some 1950s hostess. Jack sniggered with embarrassment and Lola murmured, ‘Chill, Mum.’

We moved inside and arranged ourselves at the table. It had occurred to me that with her enthusiasm for animals Audrey might be vegetarian, so I had made a tomato and feta tart, and a dish of roasted vegetables.

She sniffed at the creamy and crimson runny innards of her slice of tart. ‘What’s this?’

I explained and she sniffed again. ‘I see.’

‘Is there something you don’t like, Audrey?’

She chuckled. ‘I was expecting roast beef and Yorkshire. Or a nice bit of lamb, maybe. That’s what Sunday lunch means to me.’

‘Oh dear. I thought you might not like eating animals.’

‘Why not? Animals eat each other.’

Jack corrected her earnestly. ‘Not herbivores. Sheep and cows are herbivores, actually.’

Audrey favoured him with a benign glance. ‘Proper animals, then.’

‘There is a natural food chain, you know,’ Jack told me. ‘Carnivores have their place.’

‘Next time, I promise Beef Wellington.’ I smiled.

Audrey tilted her head to indicate that next time was still a matter for consideration by her and nibbled cautiously at her feta tart.