I repeated her words out loud, listening to my own accent. It was a Kent coast sound, with shades of the London evacuee children I had taught. I felt ashamed of it.

‘And now, all my winnings on black.’

‘And now all my winnings on black.’ It was better now. Had Lorelei been brought up in a country house and then sent to Cheltenham Ladies’ College? Or had she looked into that society from the edges and moulded herself from clay? That is what an actress does, of course: she invents herself day by day and night by night. I had never fancied myself an actress but there was a seed of change in me now. For what I had in mind I would need her voice and talent for self-invention.

‘Well, Mr Beckeridge, you’re the last person I expected to bump into tonight. Would you care to try your luck?’

Her voice changed for the second sentence. It was still of the English ruling class but it had added something, a coquettish undercurrent. I imagined what she would have felt carrying out what I had planned. She would have felt no fear at all, I told myself. Nothing but the thrill, like a rider galloping after the hounds.

‘Why not?’ answered a rough, gravelly male voice on the recording.

‘And what stakes are you playing for tonight?’

‘And what stakes are you playing for tonight?’ I held the air lower down my throat, and the accent changed. The vowels became more rounded.

I kept listening to the recording, copying Lorelei’s words and voice, until the sound of the front door opening alerted me to Nick’s arrival home. I pulled the record from the player, locked the study door and dashed back to our bedroom. He came in just as I was pushing her box back into place in my wardrobe. ‘Oh, hello, darling,’ I said. ‘Is the surgery all back to normal?’

‘Awful patients complaining of imaginary illnesses,’ he replied, taking his shoes off. ‘So, yes, you could say that. I was looking forward to coming back to you.’ I wondered if that were true. I hoped, still, that it was.

‘Sally wrote. She’s coming to London tomorrow to go to Moorfields Eye Hospital. She has to have an operation and needs someone to see her back to Herne Bay. I said I would do it. I’ll stay at hers and come back in the morning.’ I examined a pair of shoes. I wasn’t used to lying, least of all to him.

‘Fine,’ he replied. ‘Don’t forget we have people for dinner on Wednesday.’

‘Yes, of course. Nick, I’ve got such a terrible migraine, I think I’ll stay in the guest room tonight. I’ll be restless all night and don’t want to disturb you.’

‘If you want.’

‘Yes. That’s what I want.’