‘How bracing you are.’ Matilda stood up. John followed her out thinking that after all that wine she was wonderfully steady on her pins.

Arriving back in Chelsea, Matilda’s mood changed. She hummed and sang snatches of Cole Porter. John joined in.

‘A lovely evening, so educational.’ She watched him lock the car, standing in her flat shoes on the pavement, still warm from the long hot summer. John opened the door and they went in.

‘A nightcap?’

‘An Alka-Seltzer more like.’

‘I’ll get you one.’

Matilda kicked off her shoes and spread her toes.

‘You and your feet.’ John stood in the doorway, holding the Alka-Seltzer, smiling indulgently.

‘My country feet.’ She pulled at the toes of her tights, easing the constriction.

‘Have you seen my bedroom?’

‘No.’

‘You are wonderfully incurious, Matty. Come and look.’ Matilda followed him across the landing.

‘New curtains.’

‘Very pretty. Where did you get that stuff?’

‘Paris.’

‘They are not like you somehow –’ She was puzzled. ‘More Tom’s sort of thing.’

‘He got it for me.’

Just one more prick in the heart, thought Matilda, keeping her face blank. Trust John.

Pulling the pink dress over her head she was dazzled by the momentary darkness. Whoops! I’m tipsy! Carefully she put the dress on a hanger, turning it this way and that to see whether she had spilled food on it. She took off her knickers and bra. Her head was singing, it was difficult to focus. In the bathroom she mixed Alka-Seltzer and drank the noxious mixture, sitting naked on the edge of the bath, expecting to throw up.

After a few minutes she put on her nightdress and got into bed. She kept the bedside light on. If she turned it off her head would whirl.

She said a little prayer asking for sleep.

No sleep.

She lay thinking about Anabel. So beautiful. A horrid girl on the whole. She had never been able to communicate with her, nor with Louise or Mark, only Claud, and even then only on occasion. It is my fault, she reproached herself. I cannot reach them any more than my mother could reach me. I am not wanted. What could I have said to Anabel? Something warm, loving, maternal. I felt none of those things. I felt resentful. She never comes near me. I should have made friends with that man, he would then be kinder to Anabel, dispose of her less lightly. I don’t mind her going about with a black man. Why should I? Stub was black.

That’s it. Matilda drunkenly saw her nature revealed. I can only get on with animals. I only trust animals. Stub, Prissy, Gus, all the animals in her past, as demanding as children but never nasty. Wow! Black, brown, multicoloured animals. Ah! She loved them.