I looked away from her. There was something about her expression now which frightened me. She was triumphant now, her face was distorted with the effort of it like a runner breasting the tape.

“I’ll come to see her,” I said. “And Harry.”

“You don’t think it might unsettle them?”

“Christ, they’re my own children. Be reasonable, Susan. Nat­urally I want to see them.”

“Oh. You’re quite sure? Quite, quite sure? Wouldn’t it be better really to make a clean break?”

“Of course I’m going to see them,” I said. “You can’t deny me that.”

“I never would, Joe. I’m just asking you to think very carefully about it.”

“I don’t need to.”

“All right then. I’m asking you for the last time. Do you want a clean break or do you want to visit the children?”

I refilled my glass.

“You can’t stop me visiting them.”

“You can sleep on it if you like,” she said. “You don’t have to give your answer now.”

“I’m going to visit them. That’s final.”

She bit her lower lip. “You always do what you want to do,” she said. “Don’t you?”

“I do now.”

“You’ll leave me and eventually there’ll be a divorce. I expect the number of visits will be settled by the lawyers. In chambers, isn’t that it? But you’ll write, and I’m sure we can arrange some­thing in the meantime. It won’t be difficult during term. The school’s quite near London.”

“And I’ll be able to get up to see Barbara every other week. I can call and take her out. I needn’t even see you. I mean, you could have someone in to look after her and you could go out before I come—” I stopped. “Don’t look like that. I’m only think­ing about your feelings.”

“Don’t concern yourself with that, Joe. But I can see you’ve gone into this matter most carefully. I expect you’ve discussed it with Norah. She’s not the sort of person to leave anything to chance. There’s just one thing, though: you’ll only want to visit Harry.”

Her colour was more even now and her voice had stopped trembling; she had breasted the tape and was slowing down for the cameras and congratulations.

“What do you mean? What do you mean?”

“You’ll only want to see your own child.”

“You’re mad,” I managed to say. “You’re mad.”

“Oh no. You’re not Barbara’s father. I’m absolutely certain of it.” She began to laugh hysterically, her arms folded as if to keep out the cold.

I took hold of her shoulder. “You whore,” I said. “You dirty whore.”

She continued to laugh. “If you kill me you won’t be able to marry Norah,” she said.