The party had then broken up. J.G. sustained his new role of knightly concern by taking Gay home. Parry Percival left in a recrudescence of fury occasioned by the doctor flinging after him a composite Shakespearian epithet (‘Get you gone, you dwarf; your minimus of hind’ring knot-grass made; you bead, you acorn’). She herself had retired into the wings. The stage-staff had already disappeared. The doctor and Ben finding themselves in undisputed possession of the stage had squared up to each with the resolution of all-in wrestlers and she, being desperately tired, had taken the car home and asked their man to return to the theatre for her husband. When she woke late in the morning she was told he had already gone out.

‘I wish,’ a voice cried out in her mind, ‘I wish to God he’d never come back.’

And at that moment she heard him stumble heavily upstairs.

She expected him to go straight to his room and was dismayed when he came to a halt outside her door and, with a clumsy sound that might have been intended for a knock, opened it and came in. The smell of brandy and cigars came in with him and invaded the whole room. It was more than a year since that had happened.

He walked uncertainly to the foot of the bed and leant on it—and she was frightened of him.

‘Hallo,’ he said.

‘What is it, Ben? I’m resting.’

‘I thought you might be interested. There’ll be no more nonsense from John about Gay.’

‘Good,’ she said.

‘He’s calmed down. I got him to see reason.’

‘He’s not so bad, really—old John.’

‘He’s had some good news from abroad. About the play.’

‘Translation rights?’

‘Something like that.’ He was smiling at her, uncertainly. ‘You look comfy,’ he said. ‘All tucked up.’

‘Why don’t you try and get some rest yourself?’ He leant over the foot of the bed and said something under his breath. ‘What?’ she said anxiously. ‘What did you say?’

‘I said it’s a pity Adam didn’t appear a hit sooner, isn’t it? I’m so extraneous.’

Her heart thumped like a fist inside her ribs. ‘Ben, please’ she said.

‘And another thing. Do you both imagine I don’t see through this dresser-cum-understudy racket? Darling, I don’t much enjoy playing the cuckold in your restoration comedy but I’m just bloody well furious when you so grossly underestimate my intelligence. When was it? On his New Zealand tour in 1930?’

‘What is this nonsense!’ she said breathlessly.

‘Sorry. How are you managing tonight? You and Adam?’

‘My dear Ben!’

‘I’ll tell you. You’re making shift with me for once in a blue moon. And I’m not talking about tonight.’