It was agreed that the official reasons for Callum’s dismissal would be ‘irreconcilable professional differences’. He would get a good reference on the understanding that he would never apply for another job working with minors. The governors were clearly expecting gratitude for their generosity, but Callum found himself unable to meet their eyes, let alone thank them.

He forced himself to drink his beer very slowly. Every time he thought of Sophie he wanted to cry. If he thought about Tamsin, it was even harder. He didn’t trust himself with alcohol tonight.

At 10.30 p.m. he left and caught the bus back to Edgware Road, arriving home just after 11 p.m., when he was certain Leah would either be out or asleep. He crept back into his bedroom like an intruder and lay on his back on top of the duvet, fully clothed.

* * *

‘You didn’t tell me Will Heatherington was here,’ hissed Tamsin.

Less than an hour had passed and she and Serena had already resumed their habitual hostile positions. They were conducting their argument in fierce whispers in the hallway, next to a large heap of coats that had overflowed from the designated hooks onto the sweeping mahogany banister. When they entered the party and removed their own jackets, Tamsin had commented, unfavourably, on the number of fur coats – obviously real – in this pile. Serena had retorted that they were family heirlooms and why shouldn’t they be worn; and there they were, business as usual.

Now Serena took the antique pewter tankard Tamsin was drinking from and sniffed its contents.

‘Do you even know what’s in this punch?’

‘Whisky and cider,’ said Tamsin.

‘Well, you shouldn’t be drinking it by the pint then, should you?’

‘Don’t change the subject. Why didn’t you tell me Will was here?’

‘What, you expect me to give you a rundown of the whole guestlist?’ Serena snapped back.

Tamsin could see that she was being unfair: she had told her sister nothing about Callum, so Serena had no way of knowing that she didn’t want to see anyone or anything connected to him. She dropped this line of attack and tried another.

‘Have you slept with him?’

Serena bulged her eyes in frustration. ‘No, but I might,’ she said.

‘I think it’s pretty disturbing that he’s here at all,’ Tamsin muttered darkly, as a tiny girl in a crotch-skimming paisley print playsuit walked past them on her way to the loo. ‘Look at her, she can’t be older than eighteen, she’s practically a kid.’

‘Her name is Portia, she’s twenty-three and she’s a successful banker,’ said Serena impatiently.

‘He’s at least a decade older than everyone here apart from me, don’t you think that’s creepy?’

‘Ten years is nothing, Callum’s eight years older than you, Dad’s what, ten, eleven years older than Mummy—’

‘AND LOOK HOW THAT TURNED OUT,’ Tamsin shouted.