‘Don’t be vile,’ Hugh shouted at her. ‘Don’t imagine worse than you need. He was probably on his way to see her.’ He was very angry.

‘Yes, I expect you are right. One thinks such dreadful thoughts. That’s why I smoked pot. The hallucinations are mostly nice.’

Hugh refilled her glass, put it in her hand. ‘Tell me about Louise.’

Matilda did not look at him. She sat, the glass in one hand and with the other hand stroking Gus, who had come to stand beside her.

‘She was our first child, a love child. Tom was crazy about her. I was pregnant when we married. I don’t like babies much. I prefer animals.’ Gus sank down beside her, his neck twisted, blue eye looking up at her. ‘Tom looked after the baby better than I did. He changed her nappies, washed her, fed her, had her in bed when she cried, cuddled her, was marvellous really. She adored him. It was always Tom she loved, not me. I suppose in the event they were so close nappy changing evolved into fucking. I should not have been surprised.’

Hugh said nothing, watching her face, as did the gander.

‘I loved Tom,’ she said quietly. ‘They didn’t see me when I found them in my bed, well, our bed I suppose. I went for a walk and had a think. I couldn’t stop loving Tom. I loved Louise, not as much as Claud but I did love her, so I decided half Tom was better than no Tom. I never told him I knew.’

‘Go on.’

‘I thought when Louise married it would stop.’

‘Did it?’

‘No it did not.’ She flushed. ‘It became more so. Tom brought home lots of new bedtime tricks. I pretended I didn’t notice.’ She glanced at Hugh. ‘I enjoyed them. I felt a bit funny learning new aspects of sex from my daughter but it’s true, I liked it.’ She grinned at Hugh. ‘I tell you everything, don’t I?’

Hugh felt he had had enough of Louise, that it was better to leave Louise while she was tasting good. ‘Tell me about Jones. Have you slept with him?’

‘Does he say I have?’

‘No, but I wasn’t sure.’

‘I haven’t. He wanted to and there was a time when I might have. He is such a contrast to Tom, all that hair and short legs, but Anabel – oh!’ Matilda gave a shriek of laughter which she tried to stifle, putting her hand across her mouth.

‘Anabel?’ Hugh probed.