As soon as she was in the Tube on her way to the concert, and then inside the Barbican, she felt less exposed – only dreaded bumping into anyone she knew, who would ask after Alex. Catching sight of herself in the mirror-glass behind the bar, she thought she looked aged and plain but under control, which was good enough; perhaps her suffering even made her interesting. Because she was early she bought a glass of wine, then sat reading her programme, before going into the auditorium to find her seat. She had always in truth preferred going to concerts and films and exhibitions alone, not having to worry about whoever she was with in case they weren’t enjoying it – or were enjoying something she hated, so that she had to pretend politely, not wanting to appear too opinionated. Even Alex, so clever and so exacting, had lagged behind her judgement in an art gallery, enthusing about the wrong thing or missing what was original and true.

Already she had an idea about the Lully – stiffly artificial figures moving in fixed patterns around Versailles, pouring into the conventional outward shapes of their music all the liquidity of their repressed passion. At the last moment, as the orchestra began to come on stage, some latecomer made a nuisance of herself, forging along the row so that everyone was annoyed, having to fish for their coats and bags, stand up to let her past. Christine was appalled when this person sat down in Alex’s empty seat: then she saw when she looked round, with a dreadful too-thick beat of blood through her heart, that the latecomer was Lydia. Christine must have made some involuntary snarling or repulsing noise, because one or two people turned around to frown at them. Guilty and uneasy, pulling off a cobwebby scarf from around her neck, Lydia dropped her bag into the dark at their feet as if the seat had been saved for her all along, as if they were old friends who’d planned to meet up to enjoy the concert. She leaned across to whisper in Christine’s ear. — Please let me sit. I won’t be any trouble to you.

— What are you doing here? What’s happened?