‘It’s been very hard for you, you two were so close.’

‘Dreadfully. I wished for a long time to be dead, in fact I wish it still.’

‘The children should be considered.’

‘Louise, Mark, Anabel and Claud have their own lives.’

‘They come and see you.’

‘No. One visit each after the funeral, then away they went.’

‘I should have thought –’

‘None of them lives in England. They are all busy people.’

‘Do you go to see them?’

‘I haven’t so far.’

‘Really? It’s three years since Tom died. I should have thought –’

‘I don’t particularly want to go. The States are so far. I hate Paris. I don’t like Frankfurt either.’

‘Tom liked Paris.’

‘I never went with him.’

‘Yes, I know that.’

‘How?’ Matilda asked sharply. ‘How did you know? We were pretty well inseparable.’

‘I suppose he told me. Yes, yes that must have been it.’ John looked slyly at Matilda. ‘There’s no harm in telling you now. I knew you never went with him. He told me so, naturally.’

‘What do you mean, naturally?’

‘Tom used to do little jobs for my department. They paid for his trips.’

Matilda flushed. ‘John, you go too far with your fantasies. Don’t start telling me Tom was a spy. It’s too bad of you.’

‘My dear girl –’

‘I’m not a girl, yours or anybody else’s. I’m too old to play silly spy games with you. It used to be funny, but bringing Tom in like this isn’t: It’s indecent, it’s worse than rotten taste.’

‘I’m sorry if I –’

‘I should hope so. We laughed at you over Burgess and Maclean, and Philby and you made me laugh last night over your date in Prague with the man who murdered his mother.’ Matilda prevented herself from saying ‘Hugh’. ‘But I tell you, John, it’s not funny when you insinuate Tom was a sort of agent; it’s revolting.’

‘Sorry, my dear. It’s a foible. Forgive me.’ John signalled to the waiter to bring his bill, looking away from Matilda, pleased to find she knew nothing, suspected nothing. He had not been sure these three years that Matilda believed in Tom’s heart attack. It had been unfortunate. Nice to make sure of Matilda’s ignorance. They had been close, those two.

Matilda watched John pay the bill and thought, the cost of this meal would keep ten third world families going for months. She was still angry.

‘It’s a dangerous foible, John, and hurtful.’

‘I apologize, Matty, I am truly sorry. How can I make amends? Tell you I am not going to Prague to meet this mother-murderer, that I’m only going for the fishing?’

Matilda looked at him doubtfully. She had enjoyed the Prague fantasy; it had made her feel safe.