‘Dear love, you’re the sort of person people trust on sight unless you’ve made up your mind to be rude, and even then. …’

Diana didn’t know what random scraps of memory Constance used for such generalizations, for they trailed off, like this one, before she ever offered any evidence. Was she thinking of Jill who had said in anger that she could depend on Diana more than she could on Constance? Constance had replied, ‘Well, of course you can. I’m not Diana.’

‘Come and help me choose a dress,’ Diana said.

Dutifully Constance sat in her bedroom chair, shaking her head as Diana held up one dress after another.

‘Tell me again. What is this for? Are you going to a funeral?’

Diana sighed.

‘They look to me like someone else’s clothes. Are you sure they’re yours?’

‘Yes, I’m sure,’ Diana said. ‘It’s just that I haven’t worn any of them for such a long time.’

‘Maybe you should get something new?’

‘Constance, they’re arriving in an hour.’

Constance got up, moved Diana aside, and began to rummage in the closet herself. Finally she emerged with a dress Diana had bought and never worn, she wasn’t sure why. It was a grey-blue wool, a little unprofessional perhaps, but these were not patients with appointments. She was supposed to look like an aunt, not a doctor.

‘All right,’ Diana said. ‘Now let’s find something for you.’

But Constance had lost interest.

‘I really do want to go to bed,’ she said.

There was no point in arguing with her. If she was doing this to make the evening easier for Diana, Diana wouldn’t be able to convince her how reassuring her presence would be, whatever her state of mind. And perhaps she was simply tired, needing to avoid the difficulty of people.

Diana got out Constance’s nightgown and robe, and Constance undressed while Diana changed from trousers and smock into the dress chosen for her, knowing her only pair of half-decent shoes, which were black, would be uncomfortable without being right. She added her pearls and combed her grey and indifferently cut hair.

‘Oh dear,’ Constance said. ‘What am I doing in my nightgown when you’re dressed like that?’

‘You’re going to bed, and I’m going downstairs to entertain my relatives,’ Diana said.

‘You look like a relative,’ Constance decided. ‘That’s the right colour for your eyes, a bit smoky.’

Diana could tell that David was both surprised and pleased by what he saw, and she was reassured as she hadn’t been since she was a girl on her way to a party with him, knowing that he liked what she had on, that he liked her company.

‘Come in, come in,’ she urged the small knot of people at the door. ‘You’re Laura, and you must be Jack.’