‘You know you like your women well dressed. I shall have my hair done and wear a decent dress. I have a new one.’ He wouldn’t know she would be wearing a cast-off of Anabel’s and shoes that had been Louise’s.

‘What are your plans?’ John, sitting opposite, quizzed her. She wore well, he thought. He hoped the dress would be Anabel’s as he didn’t care for Louise’s taste. The elder of Matilda’s daughters dressed rather loudly. Anabel, whose very appearance was a call to bed, had the quieter dress sense.

‘What are your plans?’ he repeated.

‘My hair, some shopping, any exhibitions I may fancy, nothing much, just a sniff of London.’ As though searching for a handkerchief, Matilda felt in her bag for Hugh’s key.

‘I’ll give you a latchkey. You must come and go as you please. Another drink?’

The man’s got sixth sense, Matilda thought. Christ! I must be careful. ‘No, no more. May I have a bath before dinner?’

‘Of course. The supper is cold. Take your time. There’s no hurry.’

Matilda looked at him. ‘Dear John, it is good to see you and you look so well, such a marvellous figure.’

‘Piers. I play squash. Try and remember Piers. And I garden –’

She went upstairs. He followed, carrying her case. ‘I hope you will be comfortable.’

‘I’m sure I shall.’

How stilted we are. He behaves as if he’s being careful too. I must be crazy. Matilda turned on the bath, began unpacking, hanging Anabel’s dress in the cupboard, throwing her nightdress on the bed, putting her few clothes away in the chest of drawers. She lay in the bath. I must be very careful, she thought. When I’ve used that key I’ll post it back to myself at home. It was silly to be afraid of John but it would be sillier to risk anything. Better to humour him, call him Piers if that’s what he wants.

At dinner John gave her a run-down of new books, plays, films, exhibitions, current affairs. The fishing season good on the Test in spite of the long dry spell, birds at Minsmere, mutual friends. Matilda listened, saying ‘Yes?’, ‘No!’, ‘Oh really?’, ‘How extraordinary and how very interesting!’ while she ate delicious iced cucumber soup, salmon mousse with a ratatouille, which she herself would not have served together, and mountain strawberries with Kirsch. She would have preferred them plain but exclaimed with delight over them. John’s choice of wine was impeccable – a Niersteiner. She refused brandy, accepted coffee.

Without asking whether she minded, John turned on the radio to listen to a concert he wished to hear. She’s not musical, she can put up with it, he thought. Matilda, who happened to know and like the particular symphony being played, listened until the end and, when he switched it off, remarked: