Strength in numbers. In the new era, the state would take the place of the family, or, at least, that was what many had suggested. The regime itself was tight-lipped on the subject, probably because Blunt felt that we weren’t yet ready to ditch our parents, our siblings and our children. It didn’t affect me now. I had no family to speak of.

When I reached home, I dropped my mud-spattered evening dress on the bedroom floor, hid my winnings from the roulette table, bathed, washed my hair and put on more sensible clothes to go out into the afternoon.

‘Hello, Charles,’ I said, as I entered the surgery.

‘Mrs Cawson.’ He tore a sheet of paper from his typewriter. ‘Damn thing keeps chewing up the pages.’

‘You need a new one.’

‘The licence is taking months to be approved.’

‘That must be frustrating. Oh, by the way, I bumped into a friend of mine in the Ministry of Building yesterday. She said that they often send out notices of reassignment for homes but don’t follow through on them. So you might find you’re staying in your flat after all.’ I had resolved that I would ask Fellowman to arrange for Charles to stay where he was, as part of my price for the information he wanted.

He looked cautiously hopeful. ‘Did she? Well, that would be wonderful news.’

At that moment, Nick wandered out of his consulting room and looked up from a set of patient notes. ‘Hello, darling. What are you doing here?’ he said.

‘I just wanted to see my husband. It feels like so long since I saw you.’

‘You’re very sweet.’

The telephone on Charles’s desk rang and he answered it. ‘The consulting rooms of Nicholas Cawson, Charles O’Shea speaking. Yes, please wait.’ He put his hand over the mouthpiece. ‘The ministry.’

‘I see. Better put it through, and by the way,’ he said to Charles, ‘a few people are coming to ours for dinner tonight. Why don’t you join us?’ He looked to me. ‘That’s all right, isn’t it, darling?’

‘Yes, of course,’ I said. ‘Seven o’clock.’

‘Thank you,’ said Charles.

‘Oh,’ Nick said to me, sighing. ‘I was accosted by Patricia next door this morning, asking about Lorelei again. She said she heard Hazel playing a record of one of Lorelei’s plays or something. I couldn’t make out what she was on about.’

‘It was probably the radio.’

‘Probably. Patricia can be very tiresome. Well, let’s hope she leaves us alone from now on.’ He returned to his room and closed the door. I could hear him speaking on the line.