As Diana started the car, she glanced at her watch. It was 5.30 a.m. She had until 5.50 to find Constance. First Diana circled their own block, hoping to catch sight of Constance, rooted like a tree, somewhere nearby. But there was no one out before dawn on this winter morning, no solitary jogger or dog walker Diana might have asked if they had seen a little white-haired woman in night clothes wandering the streets. Diana widened the circle. There was no traffic; so she could hesitate at corners and peer down modestly lit side streets. Here and there a light went on in an upper window. If only she could find her before day broke, before Constance had to be confronted by strangers. But the twenty minutes passed without sight of her, and Diana didn’t give in to the temptation to look further. Any more delay in getting help could be dangerous.

In all the complex dealing with authority Diana had had to do for Constance over the years, she was grateful to have that key which unlocks all doors, her title; for as friend or lover Diana would have a difficult time even reporting that Constance was missing. She certainly wouldn’t get access to her in hospital or in jail.

‘It’s all very well for you,’ Constance had said when she toyed with the idea of joining one of the early gay pride marches, ‘but what would I do if anything ever happened to you?’

‘Our doctor is perfectly reasonable,’ Diana answered. ‘But you have to do what you have to do. For me, it’s out of the question.’

‘If being a lesbian makes you sexually suspect with your patients, the only doctors dealing with them should be gay men or heterosexual women. Are there any heterosexual women doctors?’

‘Of course there are,’ Diana said, and then added, ‘some. Do try to remember that sweet reason has no place in the real world.’

‘That’s why I don’t live in it,’ Constance said.

Constance decided not to go. She was only testing her right to. She had, at bottom, even less faith in changing the world than Diana did.

‘This is Dr Crown,’ Diana said when she reached the police, and ‘This is Dr Crown’ to each hospital switchboard for quick checks of recent admissions and emergency wards. Everyone was very helpful. If Constance turned up, they would notify her at once.

Diana wanted to go right out again, but she was now tied to the phone. It was 6.30. Constance could have been wandering in any direction for more than two hours. She could be miles away. To do nothing but sit was intolerable.

Diana picked up the phone again and dialled Jill’s number. Jill answered on the first ring, a resonance in her voice Diana still recognized, even after all these years, as the tone of an interrupted lover.

‘I’m sorry,’ Diana said, ‘but Constance is missing.’