Pearly was accustomed to dinner parties. He was confident and considered himself socially adroit, but somehow on this evening he didn’t feel completely involved: had a sense of being outside the occasion even as he talked and listened, complimented Alistair on the riesling and Rachel on the salmon main course, asked Adele, seated on his left, for her impressions after a recent holiday in Europe. Maybe it was just the way the day had played out — Rob’s funeral, his tongue and the small rebuff from Helen, Anne’s awareness of Kylie’s loyalty in contrast to his own disregard. There were times like that, when some immediacy of connection with life waned, and a sense of dissociation prevailed.

The salmon dish was accompanied by rosemary-sprinkled roast vegetables and two green salads, different foliage, but both glistening with dressing. Pearly ate sparingly. He had a flashback in which he heard his father’s customary and derisive dismissal of salad as ‘rabbit food’ but said nothing of that, although his father’s voice was welcome enough. His father had eaten meat twice a day and liked roast potatoes, parsnips, Yorkshire pudding.

When the meal was over and they returned to the pale leather sofas and chairs of the large, subtly lit living room, Pearly excused himself. From his earlier tour he knew where the closest bathroom was and made his way there. After a leisurely pee he washed his hands and leant in very close to the large mirror so that he could see his extended tongue. He tried to push his tongue up a bit with a finger to better view it, but in the movement his arm knocked a delicate blue glass vase holding a single white flower. The slender flute fell onto the tiled floor and shattered with a sharp and surprisingly loud noise. Pearly swore, but quietly. They happened in films, embarrassing things in bathrooms and toilets. This reality was minor enough and unconnected with bodily functions, but it was real and in a house belonging to people he didn’t know well.

Pearly picked up the larger pieces of glass and the flower, took them with him back to the living room and interrupted the talk with an explanation and apology. He asked for a brush and tray so he could sweep up the remaining glass shards, but Rachel and Alistair said it was nothing, that they would tidy up later. ‘It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it,’ said Rachel.

‘Just as long as you didn’t cut yourself. That’s all that matters,’ said her husband. Adele, though just a guest, was less willing to see the incident dismissed so easily. She took the small glass base and scrutinised the underside.

‘It’s Venetian,’ she said. ‘What a pity.’ Pearly decided he’d gone off her despite her several trips to the continent and former success as a squash player.