‘I am not the one to deny a child his need when it is made graphically clear to me,’ she responded to what had sounded like an accusation. ‘But that is neither here nor there, Moira. What I’d like is for my grandson no longer to have that need.’

‘Then I’m afraid,’ said Moira, ‘that you’re crying for the moon. For once, Marianne, you’re not being realistic. The real picture, and I may as well give it to you, is that the closer my son draws to his father’s family, the farther he grows away from me.’

‘But that could have been avoided, couldn’t it? And it isn’t too late to right matters now.’

‘Which matters are you referring to, Marianne? The situation between my son and me? The travesty my marriage now is, perhaps? Or the situation that no doubt causes you to lose a lot of sleep? Your daughter-in-law’s keeping her distance from the clan.’

‘All three, Moira, and you’re welcome to know that I lose sleep about this entire, unhappy state of affairs. But it’s what you said finally that’s at the root of it.’

‘Please believe that I tried.’

‘I do.’

‘But after a while I had to retreat.’

‘Our family isn’t your enemy, Moira. I must now ask you to believe something. We care about you.’

‘The caring is part of it, Marianne. Since your memory is so good, you might recall that at several family gatherings I went outside to get some air. On one occasion you followed me and asked if I was feeling ill – I think it was at your grandmother’s ninety-ninth birthday party. Every single member of the family was there and we were all crowded into your mother’s flat. But it wasn’t that. I’d had the same claustrophobic feeling at the last few family gatherings and panic went with it—’

‘Has that happened to you under any other circumstances?’

Moira shook her head.

It was then that Marianne realized that her daughter-in-law required psychiatric help.

But who is going to tell her? Not me.

Martin was that day lunching with his old friend Bill Dryden in the Oxford pub that was the setting for Bill’s introducing him to Moira.

‘When you called me, I almost said Martin who?’ Bill quipped with the dry smile that Martin recalled from their youth.

‘I should’ve reacted similarly if you had called me.’ Martin surveyed Bill’s well-bred face with affection. ‘When we do get together, though, however long the interim it’s as if I’d seen you yesterday.’

‘On this occasion I wouldn’t say that applies visually,’ Bill countered. ‘I’ve had time to acquire a bald patch and I don’t recall your demeanour being the one it is.’

Martin gave his attention to his soup, then put down his spoon. ‘I never could fool you, could I?’