‘I shan’t be robbing from the rich to give to the poor, though,’ he said, trying and failing not to betray his irritation.

‘No, but you’ll be taking back Belgium and France and returning the lands to their rightful owners.’

‘Quite so.’

She had to admit that she found Aubrey in uniform infinitely more pleasing than simply Aubrey. The smart stiffness of his costume negated some of the ‘ishness’ that she believed he perpetually carried around with him. He looked a little firmer, and less like an outsider. However, whilst they had issued him with a uniform, they had not issued orders. She found this odd. She had started to follow the progress of the war in the newspaper (everyone did; it was de rigueur, much more exciting than the latest opera or restaurant). There had already been some terrible battles. Marne and Ypres or somewhere (she was not certain how to pronounce such a foreign word). Absolutely everyone was involved. Naturally the outposts of the Empire had proudly stood up; Australia, Canada, New Zealand, India and South Africa were all doing the right thing, doing their bit. She had look at the damned atlases and actually it was quite cheering. Those countries were enormous. Even the Japanese had declared war on Germany, which was awfully good of them because Vivian didn’t think the British had ever owned Japan or even settled there. Then the Turks threw their lot in with the Germans. She couldn’t understand why they’d chosen to join the losing side but she tried not to be agitated by the fact; who cared about them anyway? The war was spreading at a rate of knots. Recruitment drives were urging the brave young men to join up immediately, which they were, in their thousands. Vivian would have thought they’d need to be training the officers as a matter of urgency, because who was going to lead these men? Who was in charge? It seemed silly, Aubrey sitting around the house all day in his smart uniform; it was rather embarrassing. It would be awful if he missed it. However, she had to be careful, because saying so seemed to offend him. He was easily offended, which in turn irritated her. She didn’t think being overly sensitive was an attractive quality in a man.

‘When will you go?’ she asked, exasperated.

‘It sounds like you can’t wait to be rid of me.’ He pulled his face into something that approximated a jokey smile. Neither of them was convinced.

‘Don’t be silly.’ She wished she sounded more sincere, but she did want rid of him. She wanted his pipe smoke out of the drawing room, she wanted his peculiar odours out of the bathroom, she wanted his body out of her bed. She supposed she wanted his maleness out of the way. Most of all, she wanted his quiet disappointment to be gone. She was so lonely, she thought it could only be made better if she was alone.

‘I’ll go as soon as I can.’ He went back to puffing at his pipe, clenched between his teeth, occasionally yawning or stretching his mouth, creating a sighing sound.