‘I don’t know why you’re making such a fuss,’ she said. ‘Is he game to marry you?’

Nurse Kettle felt dreadful. ‘I wish I hadn’t said anything,’ she muttered. ‘I’m going.’

‘I suppose he might like the idea of being dry-nursed. You’ve nothing to moan about. Suppose I was friends with him in Singapore? What of it? Go right ahead. Mix in with the bloody county and I hope you enjoy yourself.’

‘Don’t talk about them like that,’ Nurse Kettle shouted. ‘Don’t do it! You know nothing about them. You’re ignorant. I always say they’re the salt of the earth.’

‘Do you!’ With methodical care Kitty moved the tea-tray aside as if it prevented her in some way from getting at Nurse Kettle. ‘Listen,’ she continued, holding the edges of the table and leaning forward, ‘listen to me. I asked you to come and sit here because I’ve got to talk and I thought you might be partly human. I didn’t know you were a yes-girl to this gang of fossils. God! You make me sick! What have they got, except money and snob-value, that you haven’t got?’

‘Lots,’ Nurse Kettle declaimed stoutly.

‘Like hell, they have! No, listen. Listen! OK, I lived with your boyfriend in Singapore. He was bloody dull but I was in a bit of a jam, and it suited us both. OK, he introduced me to Maurie. OK, he did it like they do: ‘look what I’ve found,’ and sailed away in his great big boat and got the shock of his life when he came home and found me next door as Mrs Maurice Cartarette. So what does he do? He couldn’t care less what happened to me, of course, but could he be just ordinary-friendly and give me a leg up with these survivals from the Ice Age? Not he! He shies off as if I was a nasty smell and takes to the bottle. Not that he wasn’t pretty expert at that before.’

Nurse Kettle made as if to rise, but Kitty stopped her with a sharp gesture. ‘Stay where you are,’ she said. ‘I’m talking. So here I was. Married to a – I don’t know what – the sort they call a nice chap. Too damn’ nice for me. I’d never have pulled it off with him in Singapore if it hadn’t been he was lonely and missing Rose. He couldn’t bear not to have Rose somewhere about. He was a real baby, though, about other women: more like a mother’s darling than an experienced man. You had to laugh sometimes. He wasn’t my cup of tea, but I was down to it and, anyway, his sort owed me something.’

‘Oh, dear!’ Nurse Kettle lamented under her breath. ‘Oh, dear, dear, dear!’ Kitty glanced at her and went on.