He opened his mouth to speak, but Sarah cut in, ‘And then we come to what I consider to be the most likely cause.’

‘Which is?’

‘You are a plain and straightforward insecure coward.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. How could I be a coward when I’ve had so many…’

‘Ah, so it’s true what they were saying in the pub? You have had a lot of relationships.’

‘I’m fifty!’ he cried, rather too loudly. One or two of the other diners looked round.

‘Well, that’s most of them informed. They’ll probably send round a birthday cake in a minute.’

‘I’m fifty,’ he whispered. ‘Of course I’ve had lots of relationships. Who hasn’t?’

‘And how long have they lasted? On average.’

Gary looked exasperated. ‘I haven’t worked it out.’

Sarah stared at him in silence.

‘Well, I managed three months once. No. No–six months. Half a year. That’s not bad.’

‘How long ago?’

‘Ooh…ten years.’

Sarah pretended to write on an invisible notepad. ‘Six months, ten years ago. Patient clinically incapable of sustaining a relationship.’

Gary leaned back in his chair. ‘What’s this got to do with anything? I mean, why are you so interested?’

Sarah looked him in the eye. ‘Because I want to know if I’ll be wasting my time.’

That night Sarah did not catch her train from Winchester to London. Instead she became, as she would have put it, another notch on Gary’s bedpost. They made love looking up at the stars in Gary’s penthouse: which is what he called his top-floor flat with a Velux window. Sarah slept peacefully in his arms as Gary gazed at the outline of Orion through the darkened glass. There was a certain satisfaction in the conquest, but also a slight nervousness that he could not pin down. Normally it would not have troubled him. He wondered why it should do so now.

Erica lay awake for a long time. She rolled over at one point and put her arms around Tiger. He did not respond. He acted as though he were asleep, but she was sure he was still awake. Eventually she drew away from him, turned over and moved to her own side of the bed. She heard the clock of the cathedral strike one. Then two, Then three. Then she fell into a fitful, uncomfortable sleep.

Christopher sat up until midnight talking to Ellie, catching up on her African exploits and asking about Matt. It seemed that most of the information he gleaned about Matt came from Ellie.

‘I do worry,’ confided Christopher.

‘So do we,’ said Ellie.

‘What do you mean?’

‘About you. We worry about you.’

Christopher laughed it off. ‘But I’m far too old to be worried about.’