‘If you weren’t one of one’s oldest friends –’

‘How old are you, Annie?’

‘Well –’

‘Same age as me.’

‘A good deal younger. I married when I was sixteen.’

‘Anne don’t! Not with me. Please. We are old, nearer death than birth, time to get ready. You can’t go on dyeing your hair, using silly expressions like “one” instead of “I” or “we” and mischief making.’

‘I should think,’ said Anne, her face clashing with her hair, ‘that living as you do has softened your brain. You should come up to London oftener and keep up.’

‘Keep up with what?’

‘Life, of course. Life you know.’

‘I am more interested in death, so should you be. You haven’t much time left to be nice to poor old Humphrey. Why don’t you tie up your hair and go sailing with him? Why don’t you go to bed with him now and again? Have a good romp.’

‘At this moment in time I don’t want to.’

‘Not during lunch but when he comes back from the Solent? Why not be like Vanessa? She has fun, I’ve seen her. Sexy.’

‘You always had a vulgar streak, even at school.’

‘That’s like the old Anne. I’m going now. I can’t take any more. I’m sorry. I don’t belong any more. I’m off –’

‘Leaving London?’ Suddenly aware of Matilda, Anne caught her hand.

‘London and life. Give my love to Humphrey.’ Matilda picked up the dress in its Harrods bag.

‘Don’t get uptight, Matilda. You know you –’

Matilda kissed her quickly. ‘I’m sorry, I must go, really sorry.’

Her lunch unfinished, Matilda got into the lift and down into the street conscious of behaving badly in her need to get away. Fool, I didn’t go to the lavatory, she thought, walking quickly along the hot pavements to Piccadilly, into the Ritz where in the calm of the cloakroom she assuaged her need, washed her hands which were trembling and combed her hair. He may have slept with Lalage but he was not a bugger.