‘A double gin on the rocks and a soda water,’ he instructed and then said to David, ‘There’s plenty of time for a drink, but the bar is jammed at lunch time.’

David didn’t protest. He like the fact that Jack never pressed his abstemious ways on other people.

‘I caught sight of Ben on the way over,’ Jack said. ‘It still comes as a shock to me that I have a son old enough to be out here. Next year, both of them.’

‘He’s settling in all right?’

‘Well enough. He’s restless about the size of all his classes. I’m sorry he has to be out here when we’re not just cutting financial corners but gutting whole programmes. The undergraduates are going through now like so many cans in a factory. But Ben’s had more attention than was good for him. It’s time he learned what matters to him whether he has an audience to play to or not. Mike is a different matter, but he’ll have Ben.’

The gin came. Its warmth in David’s gut was as much a luxurious pleasure as the fire had been. Jack let him enjoy it. They grumbled together about how many years it would take the university and the CBC to recover from the deadly government blood-letting that seemed to go on and on. It was a topic they avoided around the family, not only because its details might not interest the others but because they didn’t like to express their real apprehensions about the future in front of people whose well-being was in their hands.

‘What we need is what Ontario’s just got, a minority Liberal government dependent on the New Democratic Party. But we haven’t a hope in hell of anything like that out here,’ Jack said.

David had nearly finished his lunch and had almost convinced himself that nothing was required of him beyond enjoying the food and Jack’s company when Jack shifted position in his chair, signalling a shift of topic.

‘Have you talked at all with Ted lately?’ Jack asked.

‘I don’t really talk with Ted,’ David admitted. ‘He did say to me before Christmas that he was worried about Mary and losing patience with her, too. But that was before their weekend away. Since then, Mary seems to be on an evener keel.’

‘He’s talking about leaving her,’ Jack said.

David might have been punched in the stomach. When the wave of nausea passed, he found himself shaking with rage.

‘What kind of a silly bastard is he?’ he shouted.

He was only faintly aware and totally indifferent to the stir his voice had caused at nearby tables.

‘I’m sorry, David,’ Jack said and reached over to put a gentling hand on David’s arm.

‘But it’s unthinkable!’ David said, in a stage whisper nearly as audible as his shout had been.