I became very angry. I’ve never been able to forgive women their complete inability to know who their friends are. Me, for example. And this was a pretty gross illustration of that erroneousness. ‘You couldn’t be more wrong, Sharon,’ I assured her. ‘He hated them. In his life and in his art. All his women characters are emanations of either guilt or grievance. He paid them out or he paid them back. The only women he ever cared about were dead ones and you don’t need me to tell you that he only cared about them because he was hooked on the pain of missed opportunity.’

Instead of defending her position Sharon regarded me with unexpected archness. ‘Do you suppose that’s why he has come back?’ she asked.

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Do you think he has come back to pick up a missed opportunity?’

‘Sharon, he hasn’t come back.’

‘And do you think I might be the one he wished he hadn’t missed? Perhaps that’s the reason he chose you – to have me!’

‘Sharon, don’t be preposterous.’

‘I think it’s enormously flattering. And I’m very proud – of both of you. Of course, Barney, I love only you, but I can’t very well say no to one of your previous incarnations, can I?’ Whereupon she rose from the table, filled up the third empty champagne glass, and clinked it with her own.

I was unaccountably irritated. ‘Look, Sharon,’ I said, ‘I can see that you are having fun, and the last thing I want to be is a killjoy, but can we have it absolutely clear between us that there is no sense whatsoever in which I was Thomas Hardy or Thomas Hardy is me? I would like it to be agreed, here and now, that nothing in any way “amazing” has taken place.’

‘So why are you so upset, then?’

‘Who’s upset? Do I look upset?’ I even tossed down champagne to show how upset I wasn’t. ‘I’m simply a trifle disappointed in myself, Sharon, if you want to know, that something in the cellarage of my personality, something over which it appears I have no control, has latched on to Thomas Hardy and said, “This miserable thing of deviousness and darkness I acknowledge mine.” I understand that you are nothing like as appalled for me as I am for myself. I am prepared to accept your completely misplaced enthusiasm; in return for which I would like you to accept my entirely justified repugnance. Now can we let the matter drop?’

‘You won’t hear another word about it from me, Barney,’ said Sharon, ‘if that’s really what you want.’ And she polished off the third glass of champagne, while I put another wet towel over my eyes.